refuge

I’ve tried to start into this update a few times over the past week, and it just wasn’t coming…
I’m conscious of the balance between being honest and then also holding with wisdom what is for sharing and what is just for me and Jesus. It’s tricky sometimes to know and I want to hold the space well for myself and also for others.
There’s also a balance between an authentic sharing about the hard pieces of this process, while also pointing consistently to the real hope that I feel in the midst of it. I don’t want over dramatize or cheapen either of those very real parts, and I don’t want to take for granted the delicate and sacred space of learning how to hold them well in tandem.

So I waited. Nothing I was trying to say was coming to be, so I let the words wait.

And instead I focussed on the words of others, the words of scripture, and let that be the landing place for a few days; the theme of God as a refuge was coming through loud and clear. And I have been holed up with him there as I waited through this week of treatment again:

The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him. - Nahum 1:7

You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my source of hope. - Psalm 119:114

The Lord is my light and my salvation -
so why should I be afraid?
The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger,
so why should I tremble?
…

For he will conceal me there when troubles come;
he will hide me in his sanctuary.
He will place me out of reach on a high rock.
…
Wait patiently for the Lord.
Be brave and courageous.
Yes, wait patiently for the Lord. - Psalm 27:1, 5, 14

I’m so thankful for these and other reminders that have been rising and persisting this week. They have been needed and I’m grateful.

The second round of treatment seems to have followed a similar pattern to the first. The first couple of days were not much fun, but also manageable, and then it actually gets a bit worse from there before it gets better. As I finish the at-home chemo portion there’s a different kind of yuck that sets in. I think the combination of the chemo working its way through my system, plus coming off of some of the ‘helper’ meds makes for a pretty rough setup both physically and emotionally at the end of the week.

And then, in a way that is oh so fitting, on Sunday life begins to come back.
There’s just a bit of light that returns and the end is in sight again, thank the Lord.

But in the days that feel more like darkness than light, it’s challenging to hold on to the truth of God as a refuge. Truthfully in the days in-between there is very little motivation or inspiration of any kind. It’s hard, it’s lonely, and it feels like it’s going to be like that forever.

It feels more like a cave than a refuge. It feels damp, dingy, dark and undesirable. It feels a bit like being trapped, and the way back to light and life feels far away and unreachable.
Thank goodness for the faithful and consistent reminders of scripture and Spirit that Jesus is close at hand, that I am never alone in that place for a moment. And thank God for the grace to believe, the courage to say yes to trusting in God’s provision and care, even when it doesn’t feel like that at the time.

And as I continue slow and steady towards a settled body and a settled spirit again, I want to do the work of also giving thanks for the lessons and truths of the dark places too.
Because a cave can be a shelter, and there is nothing to despise here.

It does not feel that way in the middle of the space. There are real feelings, and they are definitely not full of light and rainbows.

But in the darkness, I remember still that I am held.
I remember still that I am known. I remember still that I am not alone or forgotten.
I remember and believe that God is good and that he is near.

It’s still hard, team. I do not enjoy these days. I do not want to keep doing this part.
But I’m so thankful that our God is a refuge, a place of shelter, a hole of safety that I can curl up in and be exactly as a I actually find myself.
He is close. And He is good.

And it’s enough to say yes again to trusting in those truths.
To say yes again to the possibility and promise of light, even from within the darkness of the cave.

I think the cave can be a place of comfort, of protection. And even when it’s not feeling that way, it’s for sure a place where love will find us over and over again.

I’m hopeful for some more ‘normal-ish’ days this week now. I’m booked in for my port procedure on Friday, which is good news. The port will make both treatment and life just a bit smoother, and I’ll be happy to be done with the bandages and coverings on my arm.

I’m still feeling pretty worn out today, and the tears are close at hand. But I’m also thankful for the faithful return of light that allows some of these pieces to come more fully.

Today I’m giving thanks for the good gifts of the dark, and the grace of a present Saviour to help me hold them when it’s hard.

Thanks for your prayers friends. Truly, we need them, and we’re so grateful for the ways you’re with us.
L xo