Victory shouts are hard to make in the thick of the battle. But sometimes they’re hard to make at the end. Once you’ve exhausted yourself from the battle. But He is worthy. Always. Even in the battle.
A little over a year ago, a dear friend of mine, began a battle she never wanted. One she would have never voluntarily asked for. As she heard the words Rhabdomyosarcoma Stage 4 with a mass that stretches from her heart to her kidney. And the worst part was, this was a diagnosis given for her 12 year old granddaughter who was “healthy” yesterday.
I have no desire to put words in her mouth or push feelings on her that may or may not have existed. But here is a glimpse of the journey I witnessed.
Hurt. It hurt to breathe. Many days. Paralyzed with anxiety, fear, deep deep hurt, and a myriad of every other emotion that exists. We’ve had many conversations where I’ve simply reminded her to breathe in and breathe out for this moment. Because that was the only thing she had control over. Literally, the only thing. But God. He had control over the rest. Still scary.
Anger. I mean who wouldn’t have a little, well, maybe a lot of anger. Why. Why this little girl. This dreadful battle that could cost her a life. Why something that has to be treated on the other side of the state. Where I don’t live. And don’t work. And, why my baby. But God. He made a way at every turn. Housing. Job. People around her to connect with and cherish.
Fear. What if. We’ve claimed victory together from the first day. The first day she called me headed across the state not knowing what it all would even mean. We’ve prayed and boldly claimed that God had her healing already lined up. With shaky voices and knees. Sometimes nothing more than tears. And other times there weren’t even tears available. Because they had been cried out. Some days all she could muster was a whisper of his sweet name, Jesus. But God had her victory. Even when everything around her said it wasn’t to be.
And I can only begin to share with you her experience. I have graciously been such a small part of the journey.
Hope.
Really, that’s our share with you today. Hope. In the middle of what is seemingly the most hopeless dreadful situation for the last year. Hope has risen. Straight out of ashes. There have been very few days that I would have seen hope if I were standing in her place. Very few good days along this journey. Oh, but God has so graciously and mercifully given it.
The journey has been hard. Trips in and out of ICU. Moments when everyone thought the suffering was so much that she might lose her. So much of life has been made different. The simple things in life. Walking. Eating and enjoying a meal. Laughing without hurt. The journey continues. But God has given a refresher. A big one.
I can only imagine the shear joy in her heart. The overwhelming release of emotions when the words came a year later.
The 4X6 tumor in her chest is gone.
Almost surreal. I had spoken with my friend the night before. We reminisced about breathing in and breathing out. How somedays that is all that is within our control and it is what we will do. The rest of it we will give to God. Because he is the one who has it.
Little did either know in that conversation that such news would come the following day. When she texted me I cried. Sitting in my office chair I cried. Cried for joy. Cried for every person who didn’t believe our bold proclamation of healing and restoration. Cried for their joy. Their miracle.
And selfishly, I cried because God showed me again that in the middle of whatever we are facing that is more than us – He is there. Working for our good. Even when nobody around us believes He is. He is.
I asked my friend could I share just a brief synopsis of her story and she kindly obliged. Thank you.
Friends, I want you to know there is hope today. Hope for your situation. Hope that lies outside of the ability of anything that makes sense to us. A hope that doesn’t come from this world. I know we face battles that aren’t fair. That hurt more than we have words to describe. Battles that are bigger than we are. Seem dreadful and hopeless. Get worse before our very eyes when we just can’t imagine it even could.
But hear my words this morning. In the most exhausting moment of your battle; breathe in, breathe out, and give the rest to your God that is bigger than your battle. There is hope. He is our hope!
And, please, take a moment in the middle of your day today to rejoice with my friend for her victory. Pray for her too as the journey isn’t over yet. But rejoice in the victory and awesomeness of God even if your victory hasn’t hit the horizon yet. Praise Him. He is worthy. Always.
Bobbie