And yet there is peace…
A few days ago I knew exactly what I was going to blog about for this entry; took the picture and everything. But I think that is going to have to wait until next time because today there is something else running through my mind. But before you read about, rest assured that I am not in a morose mood, I’ve just been doing some “new” deep thinking on an old subject.
Sometimes my mind doesn’t know where to stop when I think about the road I’ve walked with my husband. It has been so unexpected and frightening and exilirating and tiring and calm and hard and great (though not all at the same time). Today was another infusion day for Tim. As I was setting everything up and counting my syringes, warming up the meds to room temperature, wrestling with the IV pole….I remember thinking: “Jill, when did you become so comfortable with all of this? This is crazy, wives don’t do this.”
But they do. I do. Somehow when we say that, “I do”, we don’t realize what we’re agreeing to. I remember standing there, looking at Tim and repeating all the words and meaning each one of them. But I had no idea. I had no idea what lay ahead and no idea how it would challenge me. I think I still process it bit by bit as my psyche allows me to. Because seriously, when you’ve been married two years, have an infant son and your husband is diagnosed with luekemia which you go onto fight for 6 1/2 years….it kind of leaves you with a lot to deal with mentally. Like mourning the loss of all that “should” have been i.e., husbands who can help out around the house, enjoying your babies without thinking about if their daddy will be there to raise them with you, living a normal young adult life.
And yet there is peace. I have worked through so much of what needed to be worked through. I have seen God deliver my husband from certain death. I have seen my marriage flourish and grow into something it never could have been without the devastation of cancer. I have walked out my faith, taught it to my children and allowed it to change me. I think now the “new deep thought” on this old subject is that I’m really proud of us. I’m proud that we’ve walked through so much and we’ve made it out together; genuinely loving one another. I like the unspoken knowledge we have of one another that no one else in the world will ever know; I feel like we’ve seen each other through God’s eyes and the picture is so pure and so true and so accepting that there is no need for words.
(sigh) I could choose to focus on the fact that Tim still needs infusions every 6-8 weeks for some unknown condition his body seems to have as a result of all his chemotherapy….yet there is peace. It doesn’t leave me, it’s a gift I’ve been given; it’s mine. I don’t believe that the God I serve and adore delivered Tim from leukemia so he could continue to suffer. I fully expect Him to deliver us from this as well and I fully expect to find more treasures once this chapter ends. But until then, I will hold onto my peace because it allows me to take on the challenge and hook up that IV and do what I need to do to take care of my husband better than I ever thought I could.
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