Safely In the Palm of His Hands

A somewhat random thought before sharing my heart:

 

The boys have been talking a lot about heaven. Much more than normal. I'm not entirely sure why - it hasn't come from us - but our bedtime conversations have been full of it. Some of their thoughts are truly mind-boggling.

 

That God is big enough to hold the Earth in His hand... and yet small enough to live in our hearts.

 

That God is able to be with each of us - no matter where we are - all at the same time.

 

That God and Jesus are actually the same person. But that Jesus was God's son. And He never did anything wrong.

 

That God isn't afraid of any bad guys. But they still won't be allowed in heaven.

 

And Jack said, "Ben, did you know that we're going to be able to FLY in heaven?!?" Ben dismissed it as if it were no big deal. "I already knew that, Jack," he answered as-a-matter-of-factly. I'm not exactly sure that one is true. But I won't be the one to correct them. That thought is super exciting for two four-year-olds.

 

- - - - - -

 

I can't even explain the peace I feel today. It doesn't make any sense. Except if you knew a fraction of the people that are praying for us. All around the world. All around the clock. Then, it makes perfect sense.

 

A week ago, I felt so angry. Violated. Abandoned. Tricked. I had invested everything into my faith, my God, and this was How he was rewarding me? The chances of my four-year-old getting a tumor that is usually harbored by men in their fifties? About 0.00002%. Wow. It's like I won the lottery (sarcastically speaking.) All of this for living a life that I thought God would be proud of.

 

I can't believe the transformation God has done in my heart.

 

Andy told me last night, that yesterday was the first day in a few weeks that he didn't cry. It was the same for me. Our circumstances didn't change. If anything, we've gotten a much better picture of what the doctors tell us the next few weeks and months may look like for us. And trust me, it's frightening. The thought of losing our son - who is such an integral part of our little family - is just horrible. But the only thing that has changed is our perspective.

 

We are not alone.

 

God never left us. We get scared when we take our eyes off of Him. Our God has never been able to obey medical statistics. He refuses to be confined. He is constantly defying the odds. I get lost in the medical jargon, talk of how much time we have left, hearing about doctors trying to preserve as much of Ben's quality of life and how long the journey is. But when I keep my eyes forward, focusing on God and His bountiful grace... I have peace.

 

This is so much bigger than us. God is using our story to heal wounds that have been open for months, years. People are beginning to feel Hope. And as much as it surprises me to say, I feel humbled that God chose us to be used in such a big way. We're just a little family in Clarence. Stay at a home mom. With a great husband. Who loves being home with our kids. The fact that God chose us to be used for so much purpose... is just overwhelming.

 

I have absolutely no idea what will happen. As I said, circumstances have not changed. But my heart has. Because I know that I am not the one in control. God is. He's calling the shots. And I just have to rest, knowing He's got everything under control. He's got Ben resting in the palm of His capable hands. And I couldn't feel more comfortable with that.

 

Tomorrow morning, we head to Roswell for our first simulation of treatment. Ben will go under anesthesia to test out the mediport and make sure we know what to expect. On Tuesday, it will be the same thing except he will receive the fifteen minutes of radiation while he's under. We will administer the chemo (in crushed pill-form) at home the same day.

 

I told Ben he wouldn't be able to eat until lunchtime tomorrow. And for a kid that's been eating twice as much as I do during a full day, just for breakfast... I knew that would be difficult. We don't go in until 8:45am and he probably won't come out of anesthesia until maybe 11am? Poor kid. I was dreading telling him. He can't eat after midnight before every day of treatment. But do you know what he said? "That's okay, Mom. I don't usually like to eat until daytime anyway."

 

Oh, this boy.

 

He was chosen to walk this journey. And God will continue to hold him in the palm of His hands, just as He always has.