Day 85

I type this upstairs in my brother's house while the rest of my family sleeps. I am listening to a Bon Iver album and friends, I am slowly crying. Not the heavy weep that leads to snotty sniffles or uncontrollable breathing but just a steady pouring of tears, of release. Today has been an emotional roller coaster. But I will begin, as I always do, by giving thanks. I am thankful for hugs from friends, handwritten notes that make you cry and laugh, understanding professors, worship music and family.

Tomorrow, if things go according to plan, my Dad will be having surgery to remove his right upper lobe. As you can imagine, it's kind of an emotional time for my family. There are many unknowns that can still arise and this is where I struggle. I like plans, clear and exact, even if they are difficult. But tomorrow is still in the air....potentially. My Dad feels ready to get things underway and does not want to hear that he needs to wait. He feels, understandably so, that he's been waiting for the last two months. But his doctor threw a curve ball today. If the tumor seems smaller than expected then he may suggest waiting. Waiting entails more scans and tests, but no surgery. But wait? Wouldn't that be a good thing? In some ways yes, but in others ways it would be like allowing a ticking time bomb to sit for a little longer. Talk about anxiety. So many question marks and blank spaces, but I was beautifully reminded of an absolutely incredible fact via a sweet friend's post: Jesus, my Savior, was human.

That's right. That's what I was reminded of. You see, I've been so focused on my great, powerful, all-encompassing God (which He is), that I forgot that He also became flesh. I forgot that Christ suffered. I mean He was CRUCIFIED. He knows fear and anxiety. He even cried out to His father to rescue Him! (Mark 14:36) He knows pain. He knows what it feels like to have your lungs pierced, your bones broken and your hands and feet nailed. He knows how excruciating that last, labored breath can be, BUT He also knows the glory of God and the majesty of resurrection. He trusted His Father, knowing that God's plan would lead to salvation for all, but don't forget that He was human. How incredible is that? What love!

As I stood wrapped in my Dad's arms before bedtime, I began to cry. The tough exterior that I have been attempting to maintain crumbled and there I was, a little girl, clinging to her Daddy. But in that moment my Dad said two beautiful things to me: 1) God has been telling me a lot through all of this and the medical exams have done nothing but prove Him right 2) I have a wedding to plan and I will be there. Of course, I made some comment about how he would have to hang around for another 30 years or so for that last one and he just laughed and hugged me tighter.

We may not understand all of God's reasonings but I know that God is using this situation for His glory. He is drawing my Dad closer to Himself and I have noticed a change in his heart. God is sovereign over all. So tonight, I will cry out to my Abba. I will cling to the cross. And I will rest in the arms of a merciful and understanding Savior. Amen!

He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.” Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:33-36 NIV)