Praise You In This Storm
I’m not normally one for modern religious music, but…
But, well, I’m not sure if it’s the cancer or the way my church, Mercy Street, rallied around me so, but I popped a pirataed copy of Lifesong by Casting Crowns into the CD player on the way home from work. (Yes, work! I worked a full day today!) The second track on that CD always gets me these days. The song is Praise You In This Storm and the lyric that never fails to jerk a tear from me is “…I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away.”
It’s been a hard lesson for me to learn these past five years, or so, that things pass on. Both good and bad things, but, mainly, I’m thankful that I’ve finally learned God will take the pain away, if I just wait and let Him. All the pain. It’s not just my body He’s healing, but my spirit, too. Surely, if I can learn to endure the pain of the proceedures I’ve been through and the fear of what might be coming next by leaning on His strength and trusting His plan for me, all the other pain that seems to hold on for so much longer will pass, too. All the fear of not being enough to be worthwhile. All the worry that I’m not spiritual enough, or good enough, or enough of a friend. All those things that pull at me and weigh me down He can take away if I just let them go. I just need to trust Him and believe that God will continue to do those things for me that he’s already done. All those things I can’t seem to do without His help become possible, when I just let go and let Him be in charge.
Today, in the car, the thought that I never was able to pass that lesson along to my former step-daughter pulled more tears than usual from me. As hard and tough as I like to think I am, the thought that I failed that little girl in any way still pulls at my heart. It’s the hardest thing for me to let go of, but, today, I realize the most important. I don’t know if she even knows that I was diagnosed with cancer, or how she would feel about that if she did, but I wonder. I hope that she’s not afraid for me, if she knows. I hope someone has made it clear to her that I won’t let this kill me, if she ever wants to know who I’ve become since she saw me last. I suspect that she doesn’t even know, or think about it. Perhaps she will one day, but I don’t think so today.
I just hope she learns from someone, somewhere, somehow, that any pain she feels now will eventually pass away and need not overwhelm her. Somehow, I think that’s an important thing for her to know and it pains me that I never had the opportunity to teach that to her.
I suppose the blessing is that my pain over that shortcoming will pass, too.
So, as God sustains me and heals me through this process, He teaches me lessons, too. How blessed am I?
Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music."
--George Carlin
