I'm not really sure when I fell back into this rut of worry and anxiety but it hit me like a ton of bricks. And, suddenly, it's all I can think about. There was a part of me that thought as time went on with my little Chunk being stable and healthy, I would become more confident in her miracle. But to be completely and perfectly honest, that is the opposite of what has happened. The more time that passes, the more I find myself grasping at just the air to breathe. The happier we are, the more scared I become. And as she blossoms into a beautiful little girl, I find myself pressed for time, scared that our time is running out.
The outright conviction I feel for even typing these words is unbelievable. I should have more faith than this, right? I should be more confident in Jesus Christ, it should be so much easier for me to believe....or at least I feel like it should be. And yet, I struggle.
It comes at the most random moments. We'll be sitting in the floor playing and I'll look at Talks and Chunks playing with each other, loving each other and my heart breaks. Tears well up into my eyes and I have to choke back the emotions that are rushing through me. I mean, they may fight and bicker but those two children love each other so fully and completely that it brings me to my knees. He loves her, as a sister, as a playmate and as a best friend. It's just precious.
So I find myself constantly sitting here overwhelmed by the love I feel for my family. And the more time that passes, the more I fall in love with my children. I never knew how blessed I would feel as a mother. It's indescribable. And from this perspective, Chunks' cancer makes me fall to pieces. I think her illness hits me at different moments and at different degrees as this journey continues. And while I'm not filled with the hopeless despair that once plagued me in the beginning, I now find myself overwhelmed by a sadness that I cannot even put into words.
It doesn't help that, lately, I have gotten email after email alerting me to the fact that one of our precious St. Jude's friends has relapsed, is nearing the end of their journey or has already passed. And constantly hearing this news sometimes makes me feel like I must be living in a fantasy world. The human part of me thinks, "Who am I kidding?!". Medically, statistically and humanly speaking, our daughter should not survive. There is only a 5% chance that she will even live to celebrate her 5th birthday. As a mom, what am I supposed to do with that?
I started off this blog in tears, feeling exhausted from the pain I feel within my soul. I feel like I am walking through each day with a backpack full of pain lugging behind me. And somehow just putting all of this down on "paper" makes me able to breathe a little easier. At the end of the day, there is no good answer, there is no simple solution but there's always Jesus Christ. And I know He has allowed this so He must know we are able to survive this, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I guess I've just been really human lately. It must just come with the territory of actually being human....
So I suppose there's just going to be days where my heart is broken and my world is ripped apart but that's just apart of it. And I guess I might have days where my faith isn't as strong, my will to believe is weak and my fears just get the best of me. After all, following Jesus doesn't make life easy, it just makes it bearable. And at the end of the day, all I can really do is turn from my fears and come to Jesus...