11 weeks and 6 years

This week makes 11 that Susan’s been home on hospice and six years since we found out about her brain tumor. It’s an odd conflict of trends since one suggests demise and the other survival. I suppose “conflict” rightly describes a lot of things for us.

The kids and I are conflicted in that we don’t want to lose Mom, but we don’t want her to linger in her diminished state. Susan seems conflicted since she’s at peace with things overall but clearly struggling with being bedridden for so long, unable to speak much and able to move only her left arm due to painful muscle loss. Six years have widened the divide between our former life and our brain tumor one. We’ve adjusted as much as we can to the new normal, but we’re all naturally conflicted about having lost the vibrancy of those days even though we know God is sustaining us in all of it.

I’m conflicted too, in all the ways I’ve mentioned, having borne them all to some extent just to identify them. What may have changed for me over the past week or so is a greater impatience for our circumstances. I don’t like seeing Susan in pain, lingering like she is. Lately she’s awake and cheerful once for every five or six times she’s awake in discomfort. Things have shifted. That’s hard.

What hasn’t changed is the goodness of the Lord, the surety of our heavenly home, the good plans he yet has for us, and our gratitude for all God has done for us. He’s secured our lives eternally and has kept us in his care. Our friend Letty Wunderley brought a delicious meal tonight and reminded me that God orders our steps. That means he knows the end from the beginning, from our birth to our death, and he has our lives wrapped up in his grace. There’s a great peace in knowing that. It prevents us from trying to control things we can’t and to just accept. And trust.

We’re not the first ones to cry out. David says in Psalm 13:1, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” That’s a good question. It’s honest. I like how it doesn’t bother God when we ask it of him. He knows our hearts.

So after 11 weeks and six years, we’re conflicted, but thankful. We’re torn, but peaceful. We don’t understand so many things, but we know and trust the one who does. We trust his plans and his timing. We trust the Lord. Whatever may have changed for me over the past week, our God never changes. Our help is in his name, the one who made heaven and earth. He’s just as worthy of our thanks and praise today as he was on June 25, 2007. 

June 26 will be six years of Susan’s brain tumor journey. That’s 2,190 days. Tomorrow is just one more, so we’ll keep taking them one at a time.