Thief

Like a thief in the night, cancer has come and stole from us. It's taken away so much from our entire family. And yet, there is no retribution. No police to capture it. No judge to punish it. 

What has it stolen? 

It's stolen independence.

The very thing we as parents instilled in our child from the very beginning, was to do for yourself so others don't need to do it for you. But no longer. The thief has taken the ability to walk to the bathroom by herself. To feed herself. To color by herself. 

It's stolen her smile.

Once the life of the party, always ready for a good laugh, we now wait to see and hear what was once so freely given. 

It's stolen our bond. 

Maybe not entirely. But it has changed it immensely. Sisters that once played together all day, are now in separate rooms now because the thief came. The times of laying all together on the bed and making up silly songs can no longer be. 

It's stolen days.

No longer do we assume we had a lifetime of memories because the thief has shortened this lifetime to a much shorter period. Graduation. Wedding. First baby. All taken. 

My heart is broken in thinking all that has been taken. But what good would it do to stop here. I can't get back any of these things. I can't. But I can see what the thief can NOT take.

It can't take our love. 

Love lives on through eternity. Love endures all things. Love lasts all things. 

It can't take our hope.

Knowing that pain will be gone. Reunions will happen. A future will be. 

It can't take our memories. 

Perhaps we will not be able to make as many as we once thought, but we will always remember the ones we have. Like the time we built a fort in the living room. Or the 5 times in a row  we rode on the dinosaur roller coaster. Or how every night, when we pray we thank God for one another. 

I am sad. I am weary. But I can not stop there. I know that this is not over. That good is still coming. And to the thief that thinks it took so much, know that the soul is eternal. And that can never be stolen. 

Sorrow and Joy

It's funny how we have expectations for everything in life.

We expect every light to be green as we ride to church on Sunday. We expect our spouses to know exactly what we are thinking, all the time. We expect our children to behave. After all, they were taught  the verse that says, "Children, obey your parents...". 

But many times, we are disappointed because what we imagined would be, is not. 

I thought, many a night, how Molly's last days would play out. I envisioned peace. I envisioned quiet. I envisioned hugs, kisses, and words that needed to be spoken to be spoken freely. Even welcomed. 

But I have been disappointed. As Molly's last days approach, peace seems far from her heart. The house is anything but quiet. Sisters compete for attention. Tempers flair as Molly demands to have more to eat. Visitors continue to come to the door. 

And the words, that I so desperately wish to whisper in her ear, can not be uttered because she rejects my company. 

She's uncomfortable and tired. She's scared and anxious. And she is completely and utterly angry with everyone and everything that comes in the room. 

So this is our good bye? How I wish for something so different. Our hearts break as rejection, anger, demands and disappointment swirl around our living room. 

It would seem that we should faint from all the emotions, tasks, and needs to attend to, that really no other but a parent can take care of. But somehow, we have strength to get to the next minute. The next hour. And even the next day. 

God has given us so many promises, but few bring me comfort at this time. But all I need is one. And He has supplied that for me. 

John 16:20 says, "...and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy."

Sorrowful seems too small a word to really depict our feelings, but it's all I've got right now. Knowing, though, that after this sorrow, joy will come, well, that is something I can cling to. I HAVE to cling to it. To think of being forever sorrowful seems hopeless. 

But that is why Christ came to earth, isn't it? To offer hope. To bring joy and hope to the entire human race? 

Here we stand, on the cusp of tragedy and devastation. And He speaks to our hearts these words. He is not done yet. Joy will follow.