The Irish Day + My Heart
March 19, 2019
I don’t even know where to begin with this one. I’m so overwhelmed right now. I feel like I’m 500 lbs of heaviness. I have a knot in my stomach and I want to cry. I feel inadequate and incompetent. Fortunately, I also know that I’m doing that to myself. I’m choosing to believe those things. I need to get calm and be still so that I can, at the very least, attempt to write this all down. There lies another problem. It makes me anxious that I won’t find the words to adequately describe my day so that when I re-read this, it will help me remember what I saw and how I felt. I’m praying for all these things right now. I know God will guide my thoughts and fingers to comfort me with ability.
Okay. . . this is my first chemo day that I was physically not able to write anything down while I was at the hospital. I was very conscious of the fact that I needed to keep my thoughts pure and untouched until I got home. I talked to no one on my way out to the car, which was really hard for me. I was very focused on getting home. No music or audiobooks on the ride. No answering the phone. I have to say, I did cry on and off all the way home.
I teetered from thoughts of being inept to thoughts of being everything, or at least more of me than my brain could process. There lies my second problem. It all happens so very fast and so BIG, that I can’t process fast enough to feel at peace about anything! So frankly, at this moment, I just want to cry out loud. But here’s the thing. . . I know better. Crying and yelling out doesn’t help in any way. It just wastes time. I’m tougher than this.
Even as I’m writing, I feel God calming me, as I affirm my trust in Him to guide and comfort me, as I process. Take note of how He loves this lovely child. Truly, I feel like a baby right now. I’m in tears but I’m wallowing in His love and mercy. He knows I’m struggling with this. Today was just so unclear. I want answers and understanding. I want them right now! That’s not how God works. It’s the journey, I get it. But right now, I’m but a frail, weak, impatient human. I want to know what it all means. I want peace and I want sleep!
My day started off really sweet, even funny. I just got my Ancestry results back yesterday, which basically stated I am who I thought I was, genetically, (Irish, Welsh, Scottish, a little Scandinavian and Polish). No surprise siblings.
Unexpectedly, two new nurses were assigned to me today, Wynefrid O’Doud and Kathleen O’(something). . . both very Irish surnames. Turns out Kathleen is from my hometown. After chatting for awhile, we learned that her uncle took my wedding photos and we also shopped at the same stores as children. Her dad was a civil engineer. The list of things in common seemed endless.
Wynefrid, on the other hand, immigrated. She had beautiful language and tone. We had much to talk about. She has military children also. I’ve never been to Ireland, but I know some Irish history and the possibility exists that I’ll have an opportunity to go someday. Wynefrid was lovely. She was about my age. She had a great face. We had a lot in common with our children.
I’m going to jump ahead a bit because I think God put these “coincidences” in place for a reason. I just can’t pinpoint what that reason is. That same day, I stopped off to get a prescription filled after chemo. I was given back my change and dropped a penny. A woman dressed like a walking St. Patrick’s Day card picked up the penny for me and spouted out a quick Irish blessing. Well, by that time it wasn’t going to take much. I teared up like crazy and she took both my hands. She looked at me and said, “Darlin, whatever brought those tears is of no real concern for ya, it’s ALL in God’s hands. Just remindin ya.” And of course she had an Irish accent. Just beautiful. Oh, and her little husband was wearing one of those Irish caps that Steven often wore. He started that after watching, The Quiet Man. Yeah, so that was cool too! I know all of that will process out to be quite a life lesson for me. Right now, I have no clue and my brain is too tired to think about it.
Okay… so let me try to explain what happened once chemo started. I was aware that I was telling myself all the negative things my body was feeling, as though it was something I could control (I don’t know, maybe I could). I noted that I was really hungry. I had pain in my neck and my right mid-back. My feet were really in a bad way from the chemo burning them and were feeling particularly sore. I had a slight headache and I had constant pain in my lower abdomen. Sounds like a lot but actually, I was managing just fine and my spirits were pretty great.
I’m not sure why I proceeded to list those incidentals to myself. I quickly transitioned into what I can only describe as an intense depth and pressure. . . but yet, complete fluidity. It made me feel a bit insecure, for I don’t know how long, because I had no control. I was being taken right into my heart.
I was floating inside my heart. It was comforting. I had no fear. God was encouraging me to notice certain things. I was being told things. I was receiving impressions. I felt pressure but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I wondered if things would be “normal” soon. I wondered how long and how far I could go inside my heart. I started to become very aware of the metaphors, the life lessons, the utter simplicity and beauty of this very complicated experience. I wanted to cry, but there just wasn’t time for that. Really there wasn’t time for anything wasteful or unnecessary. There is no time to waste! That much I knew. Being intentional is key. My mind and body are being wasted ever thinking of myself as anything but beautiful, giving, and loving. It takes a lot for my fleshly, earthly self to say these things.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking! But bare with me here. I have to say it all, if I’m going to be honest. Seriously, I have nothing to lose. I really don’t care what anyone thinks. This was reality for me, for however long God let this happen. Furthermore, if there’s a doubt in your mind, ask yourself why you doubt what God is capable of. You might want to consider not questioning the validity of what I experience, just because it hasn’t been your experience.
Okay, here’s my last problem. The words I and me. There was a lot going on in my thoughts. My body was on the recliner. I was also floating inside my heart. I was watching, listening, and taking mental notes.
I’m having a really hard time singling out “me”. Was I also my heart, my soul, my brain? Where was I? Who was I? Am I? I feel challenged by the words I and me. Who are they? Where did I fit into all of this. Which one of me gets to reap the lesson? I feel like I’m all of it. But, I feel like I’m none of it until I define “it.” Why though? Is that necessary? Do I have to really “get it”? What if I don’t?
This is really more than I can deal with. Right now, I feel I’m failing at this precious gift God has chosen to give me. I'm an Enneagram two. This means that my personality longs to help and love on people, right next to or from afar. I’m that person who says, “I know we just met, but can I make you a pie?” If God’s giving me something and I don’t know how to use it or understand it or if I should share it, then I fell I’m disappointing Him (but only in my own mind).
I’ve come to know God well enough that I know He loves me beyond what I can ever, in my earthly life, imagine. So here’s what I’m going to do with this. . . I’m going to CHOOSE to put my faith in whatever and however, God will allow me to understand what I saw and how I felt and what I heard. I know I will know when, and if, I need to know. I know It will be slow going and I feel really sick to my stomach about this, honestly, but I’m choosing to look for the beauty in this mysterious gift, and to be patient with myself and have compassion for myself through it.
The reason I was unable to write down everything as it was happening, as I had done every other chemo day is because, as soon as chemo started, I couldn’t feel my hands, from my wrists to my fingertips. Very interesting. . .don’t you think? Coincidence? Unlikely.
Seriously, if you could pray over advice, guidance, support or comfort for me, I’d really appreciate it. This was a tough one for me. I’m really challenged, struggling, and a bit anxious. I am choosing, but there’s a battle going on and I feel it.
I love you all very much. I share this, what seems to be or maybe should be very personal, private moments with God, because I feel like He is telling me that they are YOUR moments too. You may want to consider embracing the possibility that my experiences belong to you as well. LOVE.
Processing it all. . .
I really don't see it as a bad day. This was a special gift. How many people get these kinds of life lessons on such a personal level. I was just exhausted and felt I should have understood more, faster. Pride got in the way. It's a human thing. I’m grateful for all of it and I feel joy. I’m blessed and thankful.
I should clarify some things for those of you who don’t know me well. Any frustration or anxiety I showed, in no way came from my cancer, chemo, or pain. Those things are never even on my radar. God allowed cancer to save my life! My concern came from not feeling capable of processing, quickly enough, and the enormousness of what God was giving to me in my brain. I felt such a sense of urgency about getting it. I felt totally inadequate with an entrusted gift. Today is a new day. I am now at peace about trusting God’s timing over my own. I will be patient and love myself well. Thank you all so much for your consistent love and support.