Out of hiding~3 months is summary

"For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, "Surely I will bless you and multiply you." And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure steadfast anchor for the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek." Hebrews 6:12-20

As much as I would like to blame this poor blog's neglect the last few months on twin potty training, I can't. It directly relates to complete overwhelm.

Christmas, New Years, brain surgery anniversaries, dating anniversaries, birthdays, and another family funeral...many things have come and gone that mark the start of me and Ryan's life together and the beginning of new life stages moving forward. Some of these dates have passed so quickly. I feel like I'm months behind in full absorption of it all. I'm frozen while every thing else keeps moving. It seems I should have a lot to say, but words are elusive and can't hardly outline the numerous layers of what has gone on these last few months outwardly and inwardly.

Here is the thing...we ceaselessly collide into chaos when I most desire to refocus. I think we've all been there! Well, this is when I check out. When I'm given the short time to refocus, it all hits at once and feels entirely too big to face. This is when I do everything but slow down to keep the grief at bay. I equate this to my house being immaculately clean. To ask the Lord why we are having to face what we are is an easy question when the plate was already full. That little nagging thought, "This is not what I needed today, God." Little do I know about my needs. I'm being schooled in lessons of His grace and faithfulness in the midst of massive loss. The better question to ask myself is, how do I enter and draw deeper into His presence? I would like to say this is easier said than done, but that's not entirely true. I'm given 100%, 24/7 access to my Maker. The veil was torn quite a while ago. The struggle to keep functioning doesn't have to be the struggle that it is. Darnit...

I'm going to back track here. I grew up in Arizona and, because of the extreme temperatures and desert conditions, almost every home had a swimming pool. We didn't have a pool ourselves, but most our friends did. The only thing attractive about playing in 115 degree weather each summer was a swimming pool to cool us off. Thus, it was necessary that we learned to swim at an early age. Two of the first things you learn are to tread water and float on your back, simple but vital survival skills. As I became more skilled, I learned that when I let the air out of my lungs, I sank like a weight to the pool floor. This was one of my favorite things to do, to sit at the deep end. I sat completely submerged in the stillness while I looked up to see the current at the surface kick and slosh. I sank deep enough to almost completely drown out the noise of my peer's screaming and roughhousing. I went deep enough to be lulled by the sound of my heart beat in my ears. Thrashing increased the need for air so, to avoid a dash for the surface, I held as still as possible. Although I couldn't hold my breath for much over a minute, I usually met the chaos and noise of the surface feeling altered. Those short moments of quiet were just enough. To this day, I equate ultimate peace with this scene.

Something I've found is that it's incredibly easy to fall into a mindset that, when we're suffering, our feelings as they relate to our circumstances, should be catered to. As real as those thoughts feel at times, it has never been and never will be reality. Sometimes I dare to project that on God. When is enough truly enough? Like somehow He doesn't know... Despite feeling robbed of dreams, like promise in life on earth has somehow vanished, that everything I touch crumbles, life still moves forward at a blistering pace. Today still beckons tomorrow. And God still meets me there, in all the places I doubt, big and small. It's easy for me to wrap my head around the fact that the Lord is intertwined in the grand scheme, but it's more challenging to seek Him in those smaller moments where mind and heart changes have to occur. Changes that rearrange life itself. This has been my latest lesson and His follow through has been incredibly reassuring. All I have to do is ask. How can I seek Him to intercede for me here in this minute? How can I seek Him to replace my snap human reactions with His grace instead? Inwardly, I go back to that pool immersing myself in His stillness, tuning my heart to His voice.

In terms of Ryan...He is on his second to last chemo treatment. He looked at me last night and told me that he doesn't remember what it was like to wake up and not to feel utterly exhausted and utterly sick. Ugh. About halfway through Ryan's treatments, there was a significant concern that blood flow appeared on three of his MRI's. The concern was that the tumor would begin to change due to the added circulation. Thankfully, on the last two MRI's there has been less blood flow. We were concerned that, if tumor growth did occur, the need for continuing chemo treatments would be obsolete. We are thankful (but also unthankful) that Ryan has been able to continue his treatments almost to completion.

I must say we are so, incredibly burnt out of it all...the cancer...the constant emotional toll it takes...the hour and a half drive both ways for a half hour visit...the blood work and the hour long wait that follows...the 6 a.m. scans. It's safe to say we will not miss this phase. Two to three month MRI follow ups, post treatment, are completely tolerable in comparison.

As I reflect on the last year, the great fear and anxiety of a sudden, traumatic loss doesn't eat at me the way it did. That's a miracle in itself. The latest hurdle has been to face that there could be over a decade more of this deterioration. This could very likely translate to long term suffering. Facing that possibility has brought forth new and selfish fears. What if there comes a day when I don't have to change the boys soiled undergarments, but rather have to change my husband's? What if there comes a day when I lose my husband to the Kingdom and my children to college all at once? What if there comes a day when I'm all used up, collateral damage? How will our Savior keep us from ruin? I may not know the answer to any of these questions, but I do know the Lord has already met me in these fears. He has become my husband in day to day ways that Ryan can't any longer. He gives me the moment by moment guidance to parent our children as individuals unique unto themselves. What helped them yesterday may not help today, and He so gently leads me through those struggles. There is a formula and that is Jesus Christ and Jesus Christ only. He is the best partner and He has filled many voids with Himself. Today is the only day that I need His strength to face. He is a comfort in ways human words can't touch.

My fear isn't as much solitude anymore as it is change. This fear really surfaced as extended family arrived home this last year for Christmas. There is a sense of longing and missing that occurs when observing the bustle of everyone simply living their own separate lives. We long for the simplicity and the flexibility to move about so freely. You know, that stage in life when what is ahead excites you, when fear and cancer don't obstruct your view. What is ahead of Ryan and I absolutely holds hope. There are horizons we aren't yet aware of. But at the moment, I can only see the one angle. Even small changes unravel me. I've taken on so much that collapsing isn't an option. Once my insides fall apart, so does my body. That moment when emotional pain makes itself known in outward ways, and those physical injuries force you to sit down and face the elephant in the room. It doesn't seem so challenging until I realize that I can meet and encourage someone else in their pain, but I lack the courage to face my own. All those self-protective red flags go up. As a result, my ability to remain mentally present is a difficult and constant inward battle. The withdrawal is complex. I've forged a very intricate inner world for myself. Ever since I was a little girl I have retreated to the many different rooms of my mind. I recall numerous phases when my fictitious universe was more pacifying than my reality.

The more I retreat in this manner as an adult, the more damage it does. I often make the mistake of seeing this dark walk as my final destination in life. It's traumatic really, fearing that this constant pain and shifting is all life holds. I've let go of those plans. I've let go of those dreams I wasted time chasing, and the kingdoms I built on sand. I've let go of hope stored up in "second things." At times, this drives me even deeper into the counterfeit of my imagination. It's lonely. It's fickle. It's exhausting. It's a crooked way of dealing with the trauma of loss.

What I'm trying to remind myself of is that the Lord is wiping the slate clean. All the kingdoms I built are down, except the one in my mind. Since the root problem and all its branches have been made clear, I'm aware this will not be a quick fix. I'm approaching a complete rebuild, but there are going to be some delays. Delays that involve learning how to center my innermost refuge around Jesus. Learning that my mind possesses the potential to reflect my deepest desires for the kingdom, while still remaining in pursuit of all the fullness that God intended life to be.

When will I learn to get back up when I'm bruised, not run and hide? I'm not sure, but I remain encouraged and deeply pursued. The Lord continues to gently break down my reluctance. This gives me a sense of joy and purpose. This road we are on continues to narrow and curve and, I think for the first time in a while, I have no idea what is next. I have bits and pieces of the picture, but I'm blind to the rest. All the work God has done these last months has been and continues to be completely outside my little box of expectations. He continues to grow bigger than what my mind can predict. Haha! And to think I used to like surprises...

In honor of recently celebrating seven years together, I took a trip back that I thought I would share. My...how things change.

Faith Day at the Rockies game, summer of '08.

Fishing at Red Feather Lakes, summer of '08.

For our one year dating anniversary, Ryan surprised me with flowers and a show to see Phantom of the Opera, winter of '09.

I surprised him with a photo shoot.

The day I said "yes." October of '09.

The day we said "I do." July 9, 2010.

Marriage freshman. Fall of '10.

The day we welcomed our surprise twins into the world. March 1, 2012

Their first Easter, '12

Look at those rolls!

When the dramas of work melted away.

They looked too cute to stay in the house. Fall of '12.

Our first vacation to California, February of '13.

...Where I also got to be in my friend's wedding.

A walk around Bear Lake, RMNP, summer of '13.

My brother's wedding, January of '14.

The day he made it to the other side, January 17, 2014.

The boys second birthday at the aquarium, March of '14.

A weekend in Frisco, summer of '14.

A day feeding giraffes and hugging wallabies, summer of '14.

A day in RMNP, fall of '14.

Copyright 2015 ->Renee Sunberg