Dear God,
On Monday You surprised me.
For the first time in a long time it felt like the light of the sun
shone into my soul. At that moment I realized how dark and overcast life had
become.
God, I’m just now recognizing the challenges of living with
a spouse with cancer. Overall Shannon and I did well, living our lives and not
allowing cancer to define things. We had
spent time together, went on walks together, talked together, had fun together.
I felt like life was just fine (and in
many ways it was), but cancer cast a shadow over my whole being. We spent so much time obsessing about pain, bowel
function, and exhaustion. Mayo Clinic consumed countless hours with treatments,
tests, and doctor appointments dominating the schedule. We feared for what might come next, that the
treatments might not work. At home I
spent so much time alone, cooking and cleaning while Shannon rested. I had
little time to get out and do fun things with friends (even though Shannon constantly
badgered me to do it). We enjoyed life
as best we could but we struggled to find much joy in the midst of all that.
Then came the utter darkness of hospice and death. There’s no other way to describe it. I intellectually knew that You walked with
me through that valley but I sure didn’t feel it.
God, you surprised me with how quickly a new day dawned in
my life. I expected the darkness to
overwhelm me for a long time (months or years), but before long I found myself getting
together with friends and doing things I enjoyed. I got to travel, to plan, to relax and have
free time. Life moved to a new normal and things seemed just fine. It’s only now, after experiencing the bright
sunshine of Monday, that I realize how overcast life remained. Emotions remained blunted. Little things frustrated me. I lacked my usual passion for life.
On Monday You provided me a glimpse of Your sunshine. An
overwhelming love for my son Ben, an excitement for the work that I do for the
Synod, a sense of love and support that I have from those around me, it all
flooded over me. In that moment I felt truly alive for the first time in a very,
very long time. It led me, strangely, to bust out an epic air guitar solo in
the midst of supper (much to Ben’s chagrin). I’d forgotten what it felt like to
live in joy. I became giddy with
excitement for life.
God, You have walked with me, not only through the valley of
the shadow of death, but also through the gloom and dreariness that surrounded
that valley. I know that cloudy days lay ahead.
I will not get to bask in the glow of Your light at all times, but
thank You for allowing me that moment. It brought me great hope!
