to abide

It’s been mostly quiet days around here. I’ve actually almost missed two different appointments because each day and hour kind of just blends in the waiting. Thank goodness for calendar reminders when my head is full and distracted in so many directions.

I was thinking this morning about the difference between ‘biding your time’ and ‘abiding’: they’re pretty much the same word, but it seems to me that there is a remarkable distinction between these two ways of waiting, these two versions of being in the in-between.

Some of the days/hours/moments in these past few weeks have just felt like biding time… waiting around for what’s going to come next, often with thoughts rushing ahead. The space of just waiting gets swamped with unanswered questions and so many unwanted possibilities in the weeks and months ahead.
It quickly overwhelms and oppresses. I like to be prepared and ready for what’s coming and there’s not much about this situation that allows for that in a meaningful way.

A few different times I’ve woken up suddenly, either in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning, and it feels like all of this must have just been a dream; it flutters on the edge of my consciousness as something that couldn’t actually be real… but of course, it is, and for that moment of re-realizing it’s all pretty crushing again.

As panic tries to surface in that moment, I have been practicing simple breath prayers. I replace the spinning, alarmist thoughts with deep breaths grounded in truth, rooting my spirit, my mind, my body in the real that surpasses all other circumstances. I breathe in and out the promises of God that “I am still with you,” “There is nothing to fear,” And “I am your refuge and strength.”
I can physically feel the shift that this recalibration creates.

I can feel the difference between waiting and abiding. I can feel the shift in the whole of my being when I consciously move my attention to God’s presence in this moment, in this day, instead of the many unknowns beyond it.
It’s an old lesson really, one of daily provision that they Israelites learned with manna, one that I have learned in a parallel season not so very long ago. I am certain that I’ll keep on learning it day by day, breath by breath.

And the beauty is, this is the work and invitation of this season, of this waiting.
There’s nothing to do, there’s nothing that is changing right now about what’s happening, the waiting is an illusion. Instead, these days are very much making up my life.

So in these funny, lovely, hard, beauty-filled in-between days, I’m trying to remember to abide.

And maybe it’s just words… after all, to abide is still to wait… still to stay in the unknown, the incomplete, and most often the ‘not as we would want it to be’. To abide is to wait, but because of who we’re waiting with and waiting in, it can be a restful, released state of being, instead of one full of anxiety and trepedation.

There are other pieces that my mind rushes to as we go - what else can I do to prepare? what else is needed?
And there are a few things to gather and get ready, but mostly, mostly, I know that these days are for soaking up, staying in, strengthening and surrendering. They are for staying true, for breathing prayers, for fixing my gaze on the wonder of who God is and praising him with all that I’ve got; they are for grounding my whole self in the presence and peace of Jesus, and for listening to the call of his purposes and his ways in the midst of these very real life days.

In addition to all this wordy reflective processing :) there have also been some health prep steps happening. We went yesterday to have the PICC line inserted; it’s like an IV that stays there and will be used for the chemotherapy infusions. The last time I had a port instead, which is preferred and hopefully still coming again; but, for now this is the needed prep for treatment starting next week.
The procedure for the PICC was quick and straightforward; I did definitely come home smelling like the hospital though - yucker :s

In terms of a treatment rhythm, I will be starting chemo in Toronto on Tuesday. The infusion will begin in the hospital, and then I’ll have a pump that comes home with me and continues to deliver the treatment over the next couple of days. The rhythm will be biweekly and will include both chemo and immunotherapy as we go forward. While we’re going to start at Princess Margaret, we did decide with the doctors to transfer my care and treatment to Credit Valley. It will be the same treatment, but quite a bit closer to home, and less traffic-y by a lot.
We’re so thankful for good doctors and good care.
The current plan is to have twelve rounds of treatment, with scans and checks as we go to see how it’s going.
It’s a lot more than last time, and doesn’t have a definitive end in the same way. But we’re taking it one step at a time, trusting that we will continue to have what we need as we go.

So many of you have been asking how you can support us and come alongside, which is a huge gift in itself. We are so thankful for your prayers and love. The prayer is really the biggest thing; we will take it all.

We will also put together a meal train plan in the coming weeks once we get a feel for how the chemo affects me, and what the rhythm looks like for our family. We’ll share the details here as they’re ready.

The words of the hymn Abide with Me were coming to mind as I worked some of this through today; some of the hymns lyrics are taken from 1 Corinthians 15.
Listen to this gorgeous invitation to abide with the resurrected Jesus in the midst of whatever comes:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.
 O death, where is your victory?
    O death, where is your sting?”

…Thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.
So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.
- 1 Cor 15:55-58

Amen and amen. Soaking in this truth today.
L xo