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:
"Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses."
--Alphonse Karr
You have spoken to me tonight with your entry in ways that you cannot possibly fathom. Not only are you blessed, you are in fact a blessing.
Comment by Ethel — 4/19/2007 @ 8:19 pm
I had tried to give the coolest comment, but my computer crashed before I could submit it. Maybe that was a God thing. I can’t remember how I wrote it so let me just say, Yes, you are blessed! And so is everyone else you have touched. Maybe you can look at cletus as a physical manifestation of the fear and pain you have felt in your life. God will show you the path, and show you your courage, to give this pain back to Him. It sounds strange, but maybe you could love cletus to death.
There are so many people who are pulling for you now. Maybe this lesson is about learning what we already know! You are worthwhile, your spirituality is strong, you are a great friend, and you ARE good enough! I’ve never had privelage of meeting you in person, I live several states away, and you have touched my life in so many special and positive ways. I can’t imagine how lucky the people around you now are. Believe in yourself, Jim, everyone else does.
As for your step daughter: You have left the door open for her to step through any time she might wish. You have not put conditions on your love for her. You always did what you thought was best for her. Take it from someone who knows, it was the people who loved me unconditionally that saved me. With them, I could be me, and that is what kept me alive, because through them, I could see me — that there even was a me. Don’t doubt that you were one of those people for her. Even if she never realizes it, someone loved her unconditionally. And that gives courage enough to get through the darkest moments.
Take care of yourself. Live Man! Live!
Comment by Cheri — 4/19/2007 @ 10:27 pm