Faithfulness

I love weddings! My own wedding day was one of my favourite days of all time and, like many others, I tear up every time I watch a bride walk down the aisle. This past weekend, we had the privilege of attending the wedding of Brian’s oldest nephew. It was a lovely day! It is a little hard to believe that our nieces and nephews are actually old enough to do grown up things like get married, though. ;)

The most significant part of the day for me, however, was listening to the vows. Given the recent downturn in my mom’s condition, it was extremely difficult for me to drive away from Calgary to attend the wedding. I felt quite anxious about leaving, even for just a few days. Then, as I was listening to the vows, especially the ‘in sickness and in health’ part, all I could think about was how my parents are actually living this out right now. It was a heart-wrenching juxtaposition – in front of me, a youthful, fresh-faced couple, glowing with love, joy and eager anticipation of their life together, and in my mind’s eye, images from recent days of Dad helping Mom with the most basic tasks, like walking and getting dressed.

It got me thinking about faithfulness. Usually when we think about faithfulness in the context of marriage we equate it with not cheating on our spouses. I think it goes much deeper than that, though. It is choosing day after day, moment by moment, to love and cherish and respect each other. And when hard times come, it is choosing to love each other well no matter how difficult it is.

I have a tendency to put on a prickly shell whenever I’m dealing with tough emotional stuff. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been the easiest person to love this past week! But Brian has loved me faithfully by responding to my prickliness with gentleness and compassion. And it has been absolutely breathtaking watching my dad faithfully love my mom. He shows up in countless ways, day after day, meeting her needs with tenderness, never complaining. He told me today that he is so glad he made those vows nearly 45 years ago. Then he looked at my mom and said, with tears in his eyes, "And it's not even hard. It's not hard at all." Faithfulness is a beautiful thing!

One of my favourite lines from the wedding this past weekend went something like this: “No one gets to the mic at their 50^th wedding anniversary and says, ‘Well, that was easy.’” I’m only 11 years in to this marriage thing, yet I’ve lived this truth. Marriage is hard work. Those vows roll off our tongues almost effortlessly on our wedding day. Faithfulness, however, is not effortless. It means choosing to love in the middle of the really hard stuff, like cancer, but it also means choosing to love in the everyday hard stuff, like disagreeing on how best to discipline our kids, or manage our money. It means choosing to love and respect our spouses when we feel annoyed by their tastes and opinions, or even how they eat their cereal!

I am so grateful for the people in my life who are showing me what faithful love looks like. I am most grateful for my Heavenly Father who has loved me faithfully since before I was even born, and who shows up for me every day, in countless ways big and small.

Drowning/Rescued

It was the morning of Friday, June 19^th, and I was drowning in fear. Later that day, my mom would undergo surgery to partially remove a tumour from her brain, and I could not free myself from the overwhelming fear that I might never see her again. We had learned about the tumour just a few weeks earlier, and it felt like life was spinning out of control. Like many of us, I had always seen my parents as somewhat invincible. My dad has survived polio, heart disease, and cancer, and my mom has always been strong and healthy. Even before the diagnosis of cancer, I had felt an oppressive sense that something bad was about to happen. Sadness and fear had draped themselves over me, and I couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom. On the morning of her surgery I cried out to God, desperate for rescue. I prayed that He would help me to see Him.  Immediately, the image of a face filled my mind. I knew instantly that the Holy Spirit had broken through, because the fear was gone! I felt only peace, and the story of Peter walking on water with Jesus came to mind. I had been terrified and sinking, but Jesus had reached out and rescued me! In the middle of the storm, Jesus spoke to his disciples, saying, “Don’t be afraid. Take courage. I am here!” (Matthew 14:27 NLT) Throughout that day and the days that followed, I felt the Lord’s presence wrapping around me. A supernatural peace stayed with me as I hugged my mom at the hospital, and I was able to recognize that my fear that I would never see her again was based on a lie. I was reminded that even if she died, this was not the end because we share an eternal destiny in heaven.

We are very grateful for the good health Mom enjoyed after her surgery and during her treatments. One of her doctors even called her a ‘poster child’ for cancer treatment! She experienced only minimal side effects, and her MRI in October showed that the tumour was stable (not growing). When Mom and Dad left for Phoenix at the beginning of November, I assumed it would be a time of rest and rejuvenation for them. Shortly after arriving, however, Mom was diagnosed with shingles. The medication worked fairly quickly, and the shingles were clearing up, but Mom was weak and exhausted. We thought she was simply recovering from the shingles, but her condition worsened. By the time they arrived home at the end of November, she was having difficulty walking. On Tuesday of last week, Dad took her in to the hospital. After much testing, it was confirmed that the tumour is growing and she has been experiencing mild seizures. Thankfully, she was able to go home on Friday and has been resting more comfortably there than in the hospital. We are hoping the adjustments they’ve made to her medications will counteract her symptoms, and she has appointments in the coming days to discuss next steps in terms of further treatment.

Receiving this news has been extremely difficult, and I can feel the fear threatening to take over again. We do not know what the future holds, and the “what ifs” can be overwhelming… What if this is our last Christmas together? How do I even find joy this Christmas season? The thought of losing her is unbearable. All I can do when the waves of fear wash over me is reach for my Saviour’s hand. And every time I am reminded that He is with me. No matter what the future holds, He is with me. There is no room for fear in the presence of such perfect love, and I am deeply grateful!

(taken Mother's Day, 2015, weeks before Mom's diagnosis)