Not My Will But Yours, And How I Acted Like A Toddler

My first treatment of chemotherapy was yesterday and this whole cancer thing is starting to feel normal in my head. We walked out of the office after a very long and draining day and Mark said, "You just got chemo." Then we fist bumped. We find ourselves talking about it and it no longer seems like this surreal thing. It's real, we are going through it, and although we are early in the process, our feet are moving in a direction and I feel like we are right where we are supposed to be. This didn't happen overnight. I went through (and still am going through) a lot of emotions to get me to this place of action and of peace.

Fear and Anxiety were so overwhelming the first week of my diagnosis that I could hardly function. I didn't sleep. I laid in bed at night imagining that the cancer had spread all over my entire body and that there was nothing we could do about it. I cried a lot. I'm a crier anyway....so add a cancer diagnosis to an already emotional mom and I was pretty much an endless faucet. But I felt your prayers, and slowly the anxiety lessened. I still have moments of fear, like getting my port placed, and my first day of chemo, but I'm no longer living in a state of constant fear.

After I moved past the fear and anxiety, I began to feel a lot of Anger. Not necessarily anger at God, but just anger at the sickness and unfairness of this world. Angry that it was me. Sitting in the waiting room of my oncologist surrounded by people at least 30 years older than me. Driving in the car as an older woman in a car next to us smokes a cigarette with her windows rolled up. Really? Why me? I'm healthy, I don't smoke, I eat well, I exercise, and I have four young children. Why am I the one to get cancer? I'm not saying I would wish this disease on anyone, but when you think about the face of cancer, you probably wouldn't picture mine.

Then I started to dig my heels in the ground and act like a toddler. This phase didn't last long, but I'm still not proud of it. I thought, ok God, I got cancer, but ya know what? I don't wanna do it. I think  I'll just sit here and live my life and eat better and exercise more and wish it away.....that'll work right? I even ran this notion by my husband, who immediately demanded that I sign over Power of Attorney to him since clearly I'm no longer capable of making decisions for myself. As my friend Carolyn put it, "maybe if we just pitch a big enough tantrum you won't have to do it?" That's exactly how I felt. I pitched a big hissy fit and stubbornly decided, nope. Not gonna do it. No chemo for me! You can't make me. And I'll sit here and bang my fists on the ground and cry until it's over. And let's just go ahead and get this port removed because I won't be needing that anymore.

Ahhh......but then, Jesus. Remember when Jesus prayed to our Heavenly Father in Luke 22, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Right as I started to pray this, to pray to my Heavenly Father who loves me, take this cup God. I don't want it. Give me something else. As soon as I started to pray that, I started getting messages and texts and talking to people telling me that they already see the Lord moving in a mighty way. That their friend who is far from Christ is praying again. That someone who doesn't know our God personally read my blog and is following my story. That in a staff meeting, 30 people prayed for me by name. And I remembered the end of the prayer, not my will, but yours. THIS is why He has not taken this cup from me. Because He is doing a great work, and it's only just begun. I want His power to be displayed through me in this process.

First day of chemo....lotta good that temper tantrum did me

Yes, there are stories of people healing themselves of cancer through food and nutrition and holistic measures. And I'm not discounting those. All I know is that I've talked with my Heavenly Father, and  I feel like He is telling me I need to walk through the chemo. Not because He can't heal me without it, but because the chemo is what I'm most afraid of, and I know He is going to teach me something through it. This is the story He has chosen for me, so I'm going to walk it. There are still ugly, emotional, fearful moments. I still act like a toddler. But every day we are choosing trust and choosing obedience. One step at a time.

I'm still praying for healing, but not until He has completed the work He has set out to do through this. This Cancer Mountain WILL be cast out into the sea. I know it will. But not yet. In His timing. Not my will, but yours. There is work to be done.