During Month Five, I traded in my dirty World Race clothes for big girl pants and dressed the part.
Although I did get to see Japan… for about three hours in the Tokyo airport, my month five will look slightly… okay, drastically different from the rest of the squad.
After a significant decline in my Dad’s cancer condition, I made the decision to return home to the United States to help him and my sister. My Dad is no longer able to receive any treatments and hospice care has begun. At this point, I am unsure when or if I will return to the race.
As most people do not plan to have cancer take over their lives, my Dad didn’t plan for it either. Since my Dad is not married, my sister and I have been tending to my Dad’s physical and financial needs as best as we can. Attorneys’ offices, banks, and the courthouse are where I have spent a great deal of time over the past few weeks. My sister has been providing a vast amount of assistance to my Dad in regards to his treatments, medications, and activities of daily living. Through out his illness, and for her entire life really, she has always been by my Dad’s side. Like I told her, Dad has always been her hero and now she has most definitely become his.
But as cancer is killing my father, anger and pain are ripping apart the rest of us. While everyone is justifiably focused on taking the very best care of my Dad and expressing their own overwhelming emotions, no attention remains for anything or anyone else. While most are solely concerned about the dying, I, however, can’t seem to ignore the living. I can’t seem to put a smile on my face and act pleasant while we are at each others’ throats in frustration and fear.
With that being said, personally, I have had a crazy amount of peace through all of this, because I believe that God is working this out for our good and for His glory. The enemy hasn’t been able to touch my joy that I express while strumming my guitar alone in my room or while sitting by friends on a church pew. My second Sunday home, the first day I mustered up the strength enough to face the questions and walk into church, was the day our pastor began the series entitle, “The Walking Dead”. And I can’t help but wonder, “What is God doing here? How can I best join Him in what He is orchestrating?”
My teammate, Stephanie, wrote in her blog January 2014 about the seasons of ‘January.’ January is a time when holiday cheer begins to fade and the realities of past failed New Year’s resolutions come to mind. She shared that her January, much like mine, has been a season filled with sadness. She asked the question, “How do you lift yourself out from under the ‘January’?” And my response was,
I don’t.
I don’t even try to “lift myself out of the ‘January'”.
If this ‘January’ is a season of sadness or mourning, especially if I am without total understanding as to why, what good would come from me trying to lift myself out of a season that God obviously has planned for me?
Nothing.
Instead, I allow myself to temporarily feel it, however that may look like. Then, I begin my questions with, “God, what are you doing? How can I join you in what you are doing by having me walk through, or wade in, this seemingly miserable season?” Finally, I actually consider it, and awkwardly embrace pure joy in it. Awkwardly, because when you embrace joy in a season like sadness it feels weird, like you shouldn’t actually be able to access joy, or that you must be being disrespectful for not letting the sadness overtake you. I am able to embrace the joy because I cling to the promise that this season ends and a season of dancing and laughter is just around the corner. And by going through this process, the enemy doesn’t get to win, and even through sadness, I get joy!
Everything, even pain, sickness, and especially death, are about Christ. Everything is about His glory, the eternal weight of that glory, and not about what’s seen, but about what is unseen.
