Parallels

“Baby Steps.”

“Take it one day at a time.”

“Tomorrow is a new day.”

Those are phrases that I remember being said often in early treatment a couple years ago. At the time, it seemed trivial almost demeaning. As I look back into those early days of treatment, those phrases would be the building blocks for where I am at today in recovery. Without them, I wouldn’t be experiencing freedom, life, and relationships the way that I can today. When someone would tell me to take ‘baby steps’ they were letting me know that I needed to not expect everything to happen all at once. They were letting me know that it would take tremendous patience to get to where I wanted and needed to be. They were communicating the tremendous value of steps that someone has to take early in recovery so that they can make great strides further down the line. “Take it one day at a time” was the mantra early in recovery, and remains my daily thought whenever I get impatient, upset, or frustrated over something within my day. I cannot live tomorrow’s day until tomorrow. I can only live today. I cannot control anything or anyone around me, only me. “One day at a time” is a simple phrase that allows me to fight for freedom all day long. At the end of hard days, I can always have hope, because tomorrow is a new day.

Leukemia and God

Recently my middle child was diagnosed with a disease that is difficult for me to grasp on several different levels. Leukemia is cancer of the blood and one of my kids has been diagnosed postive. Grasping the medical diagnoses has taken me several days and maybe even weeks to understand, mostly because I am not a medical professional and these things can be difficult for someone else to explain to me. Far harder to understand, however, is that my 10 year old has cancer. Spiritually, this has shaken me to the core. Sure, I have experienced some difficult times in the past several years but none of them seem all that difficult as this has been. Questions have re-awakened in me such as “Okay God. Why?” and “Really? A 10 year old?” and “A good God?” Spiritually, I have found it difficult to synthesize this very human and seemingly inhumane diagnoses with the God that I seek to understand. I have to go back to the simple phrases above sometimes, just to get through the moments of difficult complexity so that I can get through each day. The essential building blocks of treatment have once again helped me trek forward. I have tons of questions, but I know that very few of them will be answered, in line with my previous experiences with God.

I still have faith that God is a good God. He clearly knows far more than I could ever begin to understand or comprehend. And to lack the faith that he is a good God would absolutely shatter an already fragile spirit, partial to pessimism. So, I believe that he is good. I don’t know that he will ever ‘prove’ that to me, but I guess he doesn’t have to choose to do that, after all, he’s God. I’m reminded of a song that my best friend posted on her facebook page, recently as we walk through this together.

Big Daddy Weave – I Know

You don’t answer all my questions
But you hear me when I speak
You don’t keep my heart from breakin’
But when it does, you weep with me
You’re so close that I can feel you
When I’ve lost the words to pray
And though my eyes have never seen you
I’ve seen enough to say
I know that you are good
I know that you are kind
I know that you are so much more
Than what I leave behind
I know that I am loved
I know that I am safe
Cause even in the fire to live is Christ, to die again
I know that you are good
I don’t understand the sorrow
But you’re calm within the storm
Sometimes this weight is overwhelming
But I don’t carry it alone
You’re still close when I can’t feel you
I don’t have to be afraid
And though my eyes have never seen you
I’ve seen enough to say
I know that you are good
I know that you are kind
I know that you are so much more
Than what I leave behind
I know that I am loved
I know that I am safe
Cause even in the fire to live is Christ, to die again
I know that you are good
You are good
I know
On my darkest day
From my deepest pain
Through it all, my heart, will choose to sing your praise
On my darkest day
From my deepest pain
Through it all, my heart, will choose to sing your praise
On my darkest day
From my deepest pain
Through it all, my heart, will choose to sing your praise
I know that you are good
I know that you are kind
I know that you are so much more
Than what I leave behind
I know that I am loved
I know that I am safe
Cause even in the fire to live is Christ, to die again
I know that you are good
You are good
I know

So, I’ll keep believing. Keep fighting, and keep my pessimistic mind clear and free from negativity, and walk through whatever a good God has planned.

Treatment Parallels

Beyond the pain and heartache that we have experienced through the past few weeks, the observations of my child’s treatment plan have been amazing to watch. There are so many parallels in medical recovery and treatment. My 10 year is in medical recovery and is regularly saying things like “I’m kicking cancer’s butt.” or “Tomorrow will be a better day.” or “I’m taking baby steps.” (Literally, because she can hardly walk). The parallels are uncanny between the two treatments. I remember going to several meetings where people would talk about how my disease is not so very different then someone with cancer, but what I am experiencing in the recovery process with a child with cancer confirms that the disease itself may be very different, but the steps and process of recovery is not. While there are clear choices that I made that led me to a place of necessary recovery, my 10 year old didn’t make any choice to experience what they have to go through. In both cases, however, the medical field is resolute in offering a treatment plan that builds to a better future. It has offered hope, help, and life in the midst of recovery.

 

I’ll keep taking baby steps. Stay Patient.

One day at a time. I don’t need to live tomorrow today, just live today, today.

And tomorrow is a NEW day. One full of hope. Life. And newness.

One thought

  1. Right on brother, one day at a time. For me it’s hope for tomorrow. Next week it’s an epidural shot for my back, next week it’s a tele-conference with my Dr in Nebraska city to qualify for treatment for my essential tremors. Each thought brings me hope for tomorrow, One day at a time.

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