Rabbit Trails

I seem to have a difficult time deciding exactly what I want this blog to be.  Then I realize that I seriously have a problem with over-thinking and over-analyzing everything.  I think there are times when I just need to let it be. Sometimes I write, and then read back over what I've written and delete the whole post.  I want to be honest and sincere in my writing, but I don't want to be discouraging or depressing (to others or myself), but sometimes that is just what needs to come out.  Most of all, I have a desire to sort out and organize my constantly swirling thoughts.  Trying to write, talk with people, and even pray, often feels unproductive because I feel like I keep going in circles.  I have some down time this  morning, and decided I want to try to lay out some thoughts, without caring if I end up taking a few rabbit trails. 

First of all, I have to tell you about an excellent book.  It is nothing deep, spiritual, or inspirational, but after reading the first three pages, I am in love with it. Heidi recommended it to me when we were at an amazing second-hand book store in Phoenix on Tuesday.  It is a children's book called "The Willoughbys" by Lois Lowry.  It is about four children who decide they want to become orphans.  I realize that sounds like an odd theme for a children's book, but it is hilarious. . . .totally random humor and fabulous vocabulary words like "expostulation", "irascible", "nefarious", and "obfuscate".  I would quote you a passage, but I'd have a hard time deciding which one to use. . . . and then I realize that many of you would not consider it as funny as Heidi and I do.

I think I understand why it is so hard to look forward to 2012.  So much of every day involves looking back.  We are constantly thinking and remembering "this time last year", or "this time two years ago", and then getting out pictures or remembering events from long before that.  Even though I am sincerely thankful that Sara no longer has the discomfort, limitations, pain, or fear of cancer. . . and that she is at peace and joyful in the presence of her Lord and Savior. . . . I still have a hard time accepting the fact that she is gone from our presence and that our lives have to continue here on earth without her.  Many, many others have experienced pain and loss like this, and I honestly don't think I am angry at God for taking Sara before what WE thought should be her time. . . . there is no reason our family should be exempt from that loss.  But in my spirit I still fight it. . . . I don't want to accept it. . . . I don't want to believe it. . . . I don't want it to be this way.  When my dad died, it was hard. . . . we all miss him.  But somehow it was easier to think about moving forward. . . . because moving forward seemed like moving toward where he was. . . having lived out his life, and then going on before us to heaven.  With Sara. . . I don't want to think about moving forward, because it just doesn't seem right to move on to a life without her.  It is unbelieveably hard, harder than I ever realized.

I'm praying for surrender and acceptance.  This is God's way, this is what He has for us, so I know in my head that fighting it, denying it, or refusing to accept it is beyond pointless.  I feel like the little kid that just turns her face away. . . . you know when kids refuse to look at you. . . like maybe that makes the whole situation go away.  I need to come to the place where I can just gaze at God's face, acknowledge His love, His sovereignty, His presence and character in whole, and allow Him to assure me that all will be well.   It is also a trust issue.  This life is so full of heartache.  I feel  like I am always waiting for the next blow to hit.  Trust, faith, hope, peace. . . .all tied together.

This morning I watched the video of Sara giving a speech at the Relay for Life event here in Fallon (June 2010).  She spoke of how two weeks after her diagnosis the doctor told Woody and I that she had a 25% chance of surviving more than two years.  (We didn't even tell  Sara that until that summer after all her treatments were done.) She then said that obviously God had other plans because there she stood, having completed her year of surgeries and chemo, and all was well.  In June of 2011 she was gone.  Sara ended her speech with her verse, Philippians 4:13.  "I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me." She said that God was with her and gave her strength to get through that year, and that she was confident that He would give her strength for whatever He had for her in the years to come. 

A year ago today Sara was in Oregon, getting ready for her final semester of college, starting to feel more weak and crummy, and developing a bad cough.  Woody and I were home, praying that the doctors were wrong and that God would do a miracle in Sara's body.  A year ago this weekend was when she went to the Salem hospital and they had to drain her lungs, and ultimately care-flight her back to San Francisco.  It was the beginning of the end.  Even then Sara constantly claimed that verse in Philippians.  In order to move forward, I have to keep facing those "this time last year"s, claiming that verse, and turning my face to the only One who can give that strength.