Sometimes I feel like a nut. Sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I feel a little crazy. I’m not sure if it’s the weather, hormones or if maybe this is the new normal for right now. Last Friday, we met with the oncologist and as he walked in the room he exclaimed, “You look fantastic!” Matt puffed out his chest a bit, perhaps feeling a bit threatened but all in all, it was an encouraging appointment. I had another MRI on my right leg to make sure that the infection was gone. It looked totally normal, although my actual leg is still sore and swells sometimes. The doctor said it’s probably just some left over inflamation. My blood tests came back fairly normal, I’m still anemic and my protiens have gone up a hair, but the doctor said it’s nothing to be worried about.

And this is where the “I feel crazy” starts...My first thought is, “Ok, no big deal, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Next comes the, “Why the hell am I taking all these supplements, they must not be doing anything!”

Here enters dispair, “I’m gonna die!”

Then hypervigillance and control, “Ok, let’s start this vaccine as soon as possible!! This will save me.”

And then I realize that this is nothing new. I realize again that this is my want for a guarentee of a long, happy, pain-free life. My ugly little idol rears it’s head again. The truth is that the only “guarentee” I have is salvation in Jesus. He has promised me that He will not leave me or forsake me. Even in the midst of pain. Even in the midst of suffering. And I can be strong and courageous as I’m walking it out. (Acts 4:12, Deuteronomy 31:6, Psalm 91:14-16, Psalm 18:28, 35-36)

The last voice in the chorus is a calm hope. The gentle sigh of, “I’m gonna be ok.” While surfing the web I noticed a bunch of clinical trials and articles on drugs that had words like, “survival” and “success rate” attached. I didn’t read any of the articles but from that few minutes I again came back to a place of hope. I realized that although I have these cycles of feeling somewhat crazy, I don’t know the future. I could live a long time. Matt and I could have lots of wild little kids. I could have many years of pain and yucky drugs giving me weird side effects (cause “I’m special” and usually get the real weird ones). I could be miraculously healed. Or I could die tomorrow. I don’t get to know. I get to walk each day that I’m given out in love, trusting Jesus.