For me to watch a movie like My Sisters Keeper is unheard of.
It’s not a film I would ever pay to go see or rent because anything about cancer always shakes me up a bit.
I struggle with fear which then produces anxiety and worry and I become a ridiculous mess.
But Lifetime network was airing it and the baby was in major teething mode who only stayed calm in my arms. It made perfect sense to see something.
So I nursed and walked and swayed and sat and walked and nursed some more and of course cried on and off as well and pressed pause several times for diaper duty.
And there is one specific scene that got me feeling sick to my stomach.
Where the little girl held tightly onto her daddy, pleading and refusing and screaming as they tried to restrain her on the hospital table for another extremely painful procedure.
I just don’t know if I could do something like this.
To conceive a child and have that child go through countless surgeries and transfusions with the hopes of curing the other sibling from a rare leukemia.
To make that child carry the tremendous weight of their sister’s terminal illness from the moment they are born.
It’s a heart wrenching situation to be in and I honestly don’t know what I would really do.
All I’m sure of is that I hate every stinking disease that exists. I hate the torture it brings.
And watching the film put my mind on overdrive for the remainder of the day.
Sure enough, I was a mess.
. . . . . . . . . .
I know I have mentioned how I haven’t been able to feel much about 2015.
In fact, the first hour into New Year’s Day I rested my head on my husband’s shoulder and told him my heart was void of hope.
In my neck of the woods there are unanswered prayers.
The world at large is spinning out of control.
And I dare to question if there is any point in pressing in for the dreams and needs written in my prayer journal.
Yes I know, it sounds so negative.
But come on! What am I honestly supposed to feel?
21 Egyptian Christians have been slain.
Along with the unmentioned thousands that have already been martyred.
And the Islamic State militants have abducted more from Assyrian Christian villages in northeastern Syria.
This slaying is now spreading to other countries.
The whole thing is starting to feel like the world’s newest holocaust.
Franklin Graham warns a storm is coming.
Many are asking to pray for the persecuted church.
Yet I’m sitting here at the corner of my sofa, wide eyed, feeling like a speck of dust.
I open my mouth to pray and nothing comes out.
. . . . . . . . . .
Hopelessness has been rearing its ugly head. Like with a vengeance.
And the Word clearly describes what that does to you.
Hope deferred makes the heart sick.
It’s true. I can attest to just how sick it can make you feel.
I know that I have hope in the life to come. Our greatest hope is of eternity in heaven.
However, I’ve been having a really hard time with hope in this present life.
I look at the suffering taking place and wonder why I should keep believing.
Should I still believe for a bigger purpose? Should I press in for new opportunities?
People in general are always chasing something. They either want that beach home or that flashy car or that designer dress but a cancer patient – what do they want?
They simply want to live.
They want to breathe in and out and see the rising of the sun.
Right now there is a mom who is watching her baby cry out in serious pain and there is a mom waiting for her death sentence because she is a Christian and there is a family who is preparing a funeral.
Then there is me, currently looking through my children’s closet and seeing they have outgrown all of their clothes once again and trying to figure out how this cost is going to be squeezed into our tight budget.
For a moment I get really frustrated. And then I feel guilty for feeling frustrated.
Because there is so much to be thankful for and there so much I can do just fine without and I know that my needs look trivial compared to someone’s terminal diagnosis, devastating loss, hellish marriage, disability, chronic pain, homelessness, etc.
And so lately I’ve been consumed by all sorts of questions.
With this one always at the forefront:
Should I ask God to meet me where I am at when others are facing much harder issues?
. . . . . . . . . .
This album right here has been wrecking my heart week after week since January.
Their film of the live recording was first released on a Friday evening for everyone to watch.
Thousands upon thousands tuned in. Including me.
As I worshiped, I thought about how there were many, many others who at that very exact second were worshipping as well, in their car, at home, a friends house, on their lunch break.
How every single song was turning them inside out.
The reality blew my mind.
Especially to know that as multitudes sit at Gods feet, He looks at each daughter or son as if they are the ONLY one.
It’s amazing. It’s beautiful. To be known by Him in such a way.
However, I forget this truth.
I forget that I am His daughter.
It sounds crazy and ridiculous to even say such words but aren’t we all guilty of this?
We forget we are His children!!!
We forget how He always has His eyes set on you and me.
And so the answer is a huge yes!
Regardless of how pressing my trouble is, I should always ask.
Countless times, yes, I should always ask.
Because He is my daddy God and I am His child and He cares and He is everywhere.
He is there with those running from persecution, He is there with the wife who feels unloved, with the mom who feels alone, with the woman who is begging for healing, and He’s here with me as I calculate our grocery list.
. . . . . . . . . .
About a year ago, I wrote down Romans 15:13 in my prayer journal.
The analogy behind the words stood out to me. It was an oh my gosh, this is beautiful, I want this, I need this, crying my eyes out kind of thing.
It’s what I do when I study scripture. I get super excited and I write it all down. All the time.
Well, a few days ago, while flipping through the written pages to get to a blank space, my eyes caught sight of this verse once again.
By the power of the Holy Spirit, may you be abounding and bubbling over with hope.
It spoke to me in much higher volumes this time.
I am in a season where I am really desperate for God to move some mountains.
And maybe you are too.
Maybe you know exactly what it feels like to pray and pray over a situation and watch things only get harder and wonder if you have been overlooked.
It’s a really painful place to be in.
It makes you look at Romans 15:13 and weep over the words because you see how much you are hurting and how much of you has chipped away.
You don’t know what it feels like to be bubbling over with hope.
Bubbling over. What is that?!
You don’t know and you can’t even fathom it and you question if it even matters.
All you know is that you want to keep holding on. I know I want to keep holding on.
Yet, I’m also tired.
And depression is right there, ready to swallow me up. If I let it. If I let go.
Thing is, every time I close my eyes, I see the words despair and hope.
These are our two options.
We can choose despair which will keep us where we are at.
Or we can choose hope which will lead us to breakthrough . . . . . .