This past weekend Luke returned home from a Y-Guides outing with Van at Camp Kanata.  Flopping next to me on the sofa, he says, “Mom, I feel just like you.  Tired but happy.” 

My first thought was one of gratitude.  While I’ve had to miss out on many kid events this year, my time with Jack, Luke, and Sarah sure does make me happy.  And tired. So I guess Luke’s observation is pretty spot on. 😊

My second thought was more along the lines of: “Boy, do I have you fooled.”  Tired, yes.  Happy?  Um, not the first emotion I would choose to describe the state of my heart lately.  Battling cancer has served up almost daily platters of hard and sad experiences. 

I find myself attempting to keep the sad stuff of life in a manageable place where life seems more trouble-free(ish).  That doesn’t work for long.  Being told you have cancer certainly destroys the false comfort of the self-protected life.

 Okay, let me pause right here. 

Isn’t it good news that God isn’t like me!?  He dove headlong into my troubles – my sin troubles, hurtling me toward certain death – and overcame them so that He can always be with me in my troubles and rescue me from them. Having a Big Jesus in a broken world sure is better than a dinky Jesus in a self-protected, make-believe world. 

I love what Psalm 56:8 says about the Lord and my sadness, “You have kept count of my tossing; put my tears in your bottle.  Are they not in your book?”  And I love what the end of the story holds for us.  No more tears or sorrow or pain.  Restoration.  All things made new. That’s the promise I need on the days when a platter of sadness is shoved in my face. 

One of my favorite authors, Paul Tripp hits the nail on the head in his book, New Morning Mercies:

“No one is satisfied with things the way they are….You know the world is not stuck and that it hasn’t been abandoned by God.  You know that God is working his eternal plan.  He is moving things toward their final conclusion.  You can’t see it every day, but you know it’s true.  In the middle of your sadness there is celebration, because you’ve read the final chapter and you know how God’s grand story is going to end.”

This Resurrection hope helps me bear my losses. The loss of breasts has been particularly sad. It was a no-brainier decision to exchange a part of my body for 12 inches of scars and better health. Unlike the hair now starting to sprout atop my noggin, this part of my body will never come back. At least not in a natural way.  That’s sad.

But, a trouble-free Kingdom is coming.  As I wait for it, my faithful, good King is with me, giving me all I need to press on.  That’s hope. It makes it possible to grieve honestly, weep with those who weep too, and await the day when Jesus himself really will wipe away my tears. That’s His promise. To that my heart clings. 

Tired, happy, sad, hopeful.  All by God’s grace.

What’s next?  Yesterday I began the 12 week journey of more chemo, a.k.a “the clean up crew.” (We’ve retired the ninja terminology to help the kids)  Navelbine, as this chemo drug is called, is supposed to have less severe side effects.  Fatigue will certainly continue, and other side effects will announce themselves in the next day or so.  Radiation will begin after I complete this 12 week treatment. Sigh. 

Mercies are new each morning.  Just enough, and right on time.