It Takes A Little Time Sometimes

Moral Support

This is it, the last picture I plan on posting that memorializes the hell I just went through. I don't mind posting it, especially because it shows how awesome my dad is.

But I'm also posting it, because it's the closest picture I have to how I feel right now, which is totally and completely broken. Chemo broke me. It broke all the good things inside that keep you from feeling like crap all the time. It broke my spirit and energy and ambition. It broke my belief that cancer is just a chapter for me, and that no matter how long I get to live I'll do it well. It broke my appetite. It broke me.

And that's where I am right now, except that I once wrote this great essay about brokenness, so I know what brokenness means. It means the beginning. Brokenness is the place we are when we get saved. And I'm quite sure my salvation is coming.

I've already imagined how my life might be different once I'm awake again. I wonder what will matter most and how I'll make that count. That seems something like hope, and I'm clinging to it.

I'm a little scared that I just went through something way more awful than it will ever be worth. But I'm not scared of how I feel and that I'm broken. Because being broken, and finding salvation, makes me grateful.

So far I see glimpses of my salvation in the gestures of friends. They've been posting them on my Facebook wall - visions of me a few months from now, healthy and doing what I love most; scripture; song lyrics; and quotes from my favorite books.

I'm clinging to these things. He'll never leave me, nor forsake me. He is for me. He's my salvation and my song. There's a time to heal. And this beautiful passage from my favorite book - thank you again to Judy.

All the Beyond was hers with its possibilities lurking rosily in the oncoming years - each year a rose of promise to be woven into an immortal chaplet.

Anne of Green Gables

Dear God, get me to the roses. It's so hard to see them now.