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Jan 26, 2013

Recent events in my life have reminded me how therapeutic writing can be. And I feel like I can't ignore that need to write anymore. I've come back to my long abandoned blog to write because it seems so appropriate. On January 3, my oldest son was diagnosed with cancer. His diagnoses has taken my faith in and dependency on God to a whole new level. The need for me to put myself aside and let God be God is far greater than it ever was before. So the caringbridge site will continue to be a place for updates, but my view of our journey will be chronicled here. 

I'm sitting here watching Jacob get a massage, and over and over again my heart cries out "God, heal my boy!" The atmosphere here is so serene and peaceful...it seems so contrary to life as we know it right now.  That's not to say that there is no peace in my heart, because there is. The day he was diagnosed, before we knew exactly what was going on, I said to Jacob, "No matter how good or bad it is, God is still God, and he's still in control." And three weeks later, looking cancer in the eye, I still stand by that statement. 

But serenity has been nearly nonexistent. I feel like I am constantly being pulled in a million different directions. There are doctor appointments, visiting nurses, case workers, meds to manage, more doctor appointments, tutors, visitors, phone calls, and on and on it goes. And then there are 5 kids who need me. Each in there own way, and on there own schedule. And I'm supposed to somehow maintain my marriage (I fear that's not getting enough attention these days). At the end of the day, my heart is longing for communion with God, but my body is too tired to pick up my Bible most days. 

I am confident that He rescues and He saves, but I fear for the heart of boy. Will he be able to rest in God's faithfulness in the same way I do? Are the roots of his faith deep enough to weather this storm? And, oh that he could be spared the pain and the sickness! So while I rest in shelter of the Almighty my heart cries out, "God, heal my boy!" I recently came across this quote while learning more about goju-ryu, the style of karate I study:


 "At all times accept life as the willow tree accepts the wind. Rather that fight the inevitable by being immovable as the oak tree, the willow will bend not suffering any hardships, whereas the oak will fight and fight and in the end will be destroyed by its own stubbornness . Tomorrow after the wind has calmed the willow will bounce back to its original straightness, whereas the oak will bear the unhealable scars of the day before. 
Meet hardness with softness and softness with hardness." 


As I contemplate our current circumstances, I pray that I will be like a willow tree not just in my karate training, but in my life. And, God, make my boy a mighty willow.

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