Walking by faith...and failing miserably

"...for we walk by faith, not by sight." 2 Corinthians 5:7

That is a short and simple verse with a real challenge. Life continues to feel like a constant uprooting of our plans. I'm going to be real here. At times, I find myself inwardly attempting to foresee what God might have waiting. This becomes a constant game of accounting for all possibilities. It's quite the hindrance. It keeps me from doing things I should and making choices that may not necessarily benefit us in the long run. The knowledge and presence of Ryan's cancer has increased this stumbling block in many ways. But inevitably, what I thought was stable, shifts dramatically. Something unpredictable comes into the picture. It could be something as small as changing the boys bed time routine as Ryan is losing his sense of spacial awareness. It could be an unexpected expense, like recently hearing that we need to replace our furnace. It could be continuing to argue with our insurance company to fully pay out for all the hail damage to our house...LAST YEAR. All the stupid little tragedies take place of where Christ should be, and I lose my balance. He lifts me back up. He clears the air and we start over. This cycle repeats constantly. I'm so fallen, so human, and yet, He is so gracious.

When I lose something that gives me security, it puts me on the sideline for a while. There are things that I've lost or am losing that I didn't even know were safety blankets. For example, when we first purchased our home, one of my favorite things was the mature landscape in our backyard. Almost every home I lived in growing up was a blank slate. Me and my family either had to start from scratch, or we had to rip things out and go back to the drawing board. The thing that bothered me most was that we rarely got to enjoy the fruits of our labor before we moved again. When we planted something, I naturally wanted to see it grow to its full maturity. Similar to having the privilege of seeing a story all the way through to the end. On our lot we have four 30 year old trees that shade us beautifully. I finally had a yard with deep roots and a history. I take comfort in spending time in our yard and I feel sheltered there. Last week I noticed an orange fungus growing in the veins of the bark on both our willow trees. I called a surgeon and was told that the largest tree in our yard has to be torn down. Awesome. Another thing being ripped from my life. I was heartbroken. Just as quickly as I realized how much I had emotionally invested in that silly tree, I will be financially investing in its upheaval. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. This was a possibility I couldn't have accounted for and the stress instantly heightened. A new furnace, tearing down a beautiful tree that I laid under, fighting an insurance company...what's next, God? How will you provide in this situation?

Needless to say, I've been emotional and melancholy since this news. The boys have fed off that stress and have demanded every shred of patience and grace that I no longer possessed. I feel as though I've failed as a homeowner, failed as a wife, and failed as a mother to these boys. I don't usually cry for help, but my children were unusually destructive, so my mom came over to help me on a bad day last week. I sat and wiped chocolate syrup smears off my walls and children, while she cleaned the whole bottle of chocolate syrup dumped on my kitchen floor. At the end of my rope, I looked at her in tears and said, "I don't think I'm going to be able to do this on my own. I need to know it's going to be okay." At the height of an emotionally charged day, I lost sight of God's heart and love for me. I forgot His body the bread and His blood the wine. The first statement was fear and doubt taking its hold. The second statement was the realization that I needed a voice of reason to draw me back into the truth of His Gospel and the truth that He is good. I've never had so many financial caveats and three people that demand so much of me. And I hate it when it all hits the fan at once. Giving this much as a mom and a caretaker is the hardest thing I've ever done. Sometimes I'm afraid I will have nothing left to give. My dreams and desires will dry up to simply survive.

On Thursday my dad happened to send me a link to the christian music artist Jeremy Camp telling the story of how he lost his first wife Melissa. I had heard the story briefly before, but he made a very interesting statement that really resonated with me. His wife died of ovarian cancer shortly after they married. At some point during their engagement, her doctor wanted to perform a hysterectomy. They obviously hoped that she might beat this cancer, and that eventually they would be able to build a long term future and a family together. They both prayed that there would be no tumor, making the surgery unnecessary. God answered their prayers. Surely this meant that God intended for them to have children in the future, right? Well, not long after they married and this miracle occurred, her cancer aggressively returned and claimed her life within the year. He mentioned his confusion as to why God would give them this hope of children together when it never became a reality. But he also stated that God knew that hope was needed to sustain them, their marriage, and to quench the thirst of their hearts. 

Hearing this made me realize that most the time, when walking the valley of the shadow, when we witness the BIG things that God does to sustain us, we look for equally big implications of what that miracle could mean. Like somehow His first move makes His intentions more predictable. We want the long term answer that reveals a path different than the one we're on. This is another way of inwardly seeking an escape. God's does not torment, but there is an element to Him that we may never grasp (until the Kingdom) because we do not possess His foresight (Ecc. 11:5). Sometimes the hope He gives us is simply to remind us that He is always good, even in those breathless moments of the journey. He ceaselessly gives us what our hearts need to encourage us to take the next step forward in faith, despite being unable to see the finish line.

Today when I picked our sons up from Sunday school class. They were so excited! They kept telling me that they got keys like mommy's and were pointing at their belt loops. They showed me their belt loops and the carabiners attached to them. I didn't think much of it until we walked out to the car,and I saw a card with a verse attached to the carabiner. It read 2 Corinthians 9:8. "And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." As cool as that new gadget was for the boys, that verse was meant for me to read and take hope in today. God is everywhere. Our names are written on the palm of His hand. He will see our story through to completion. And our needs are abundantly supplied before I even know what they are.

"But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me." Psalm 13:5-6

The shortest and one of the most powerful Psalms in my humble opinion...

Please continue to pray for encouraging moments, such as these, for both Ryan and I. Please pray that the Lord would steady the boys hearts. Please pray that in the complete lack of emotional energy, that we would pour ourselves out in service to others. We're excited with such a possibility as Ryan is officially finished with chemo, and we're hoping to embark on some family adventures this summer...weather allowing. We're praying that during these adventures, there would be unexpected fellowship moments and meaningful conversations. We're excited to make some more memories and seek some sort of family normalcy during this chemo-free period, whatever that ends up looking like.

Copyright 2015 ->Renee Sunberg