Learning to reside in the mundane

I love the Lord! He heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. He turned his ear to me, I’ll call on him as long as I live. (Psalm 116:1-2 NIV, adapted)

I wish everyone with cancer heard what my breast cancer specialist said at my last appointment. I asked if I’m a candidate for any experimental trial therapies and he replied, “You’re way too healthy for that!”

He said they have patients who’ve been on my daily chemo for as long as two years.

“And then what?” Jim asked, because we both overthink everything.

“We have lots of options!”

I left McGee’s Cancer Center feeling like I could breathe again.

Our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the unwary; when I was brought low, he saved me. (116:5b-6)

There’s also good news about my white cell count, which fights germs. Although it has dropped into the hazardous zone, white cells called neutrophils are only mildly low. One doctor told me my “super white cells must be strong.” I didn’t ask what that means but told her prayer has a lot to do with my doing so well.

Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For you, Lord, have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before you in the land of the living. (116:8-9 adapted)

L. R. Knost was abused as a girl, lost a son, battles cancer and authors Gentle Parenting books. She writes out of her own anguish and abiding peace: “Life is amazing…and then it’s awful. And then it’s amazing again…and in between the amazing and the awful it is ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing…hold on through the awful…and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living. Heartbreaking…soul-healing…amazing…awful…ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful!” (goodreads.com)

Amazing. Awful. Ordinary. Beautiful. To express what it means to find beauty in the mundane, consider the liturgical church calendar. Along with holy seasons, most of the year is comprised of Ordinary Time that holds a sense of the Divine simply because all time is a gift from God.

Mary Ann, a writing friend, posted: “Right after I retired, I was hit by sciatica in my left leg. It was only . . . when I first got up. By mid morning, I almost forgot about it and I could still go to the gym, take a long walk, garden. In the big scheme of medical problems, sciatica is not at the top of the list. Still, there was much pain in that first hour of the day. For reasons I’m not sure of, the problem disappeared about two weeks ago. And so yesterday I got up at 7 a.m., went downstairs, fed two hungry cats, made coffee, fried eggs, all without any pain. No big deal maybe but I say now that each day is a gift.”

I know what it’s like to wake up with pain. People with serious issues would give anything for ordinary days that are no big deal. Days when their souls find rest, as the psalmist says. Fatigue is one of my biggest challenges. Some days require extra energy but create memories worth the effort.

Last weekend we invited our grandboys for Nature Palooza at Blue Spruce Park. Josiah caught four blue gill, thanks to Grandpa’s assistance, and two more when we returned Sunday afternoon. Who knew cicada make good bait! Horseback riding, snakes, petting a crocodile – what more could a boy ask?

“It was a blast!” Eli said. My sentiments, exactly.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m the one with abundant hope right now. Many people who suffer have others who pray. Dan, a friend who died from cancer this week, reminds me that easy answers fade in the face of the eternal.

Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. (116:15)

Living with hope while living with cancer doesn’t mean I’m never afraid –it stretches my faith to trust deeply. I messaged a former co-worker who was having a biopsy that it’s normal to feel scared. Step by step, prayer by prayer, we stumble into ways to live today and place tomorrow in God’s hands. Even so, by nightfall I feel like a drooping peony, still fragrant but with a few less petals.

Paul Tripp is credited with saying, “If God doesn’t rule your mundane, then he doesn’t rule you. Because that’s where you live.” (pinterest.com)

I respond with an overflowing heart, like the psalmist, What shall I return to the Lord for all his goodness to me? I’ll lift up the cup of salvation and call on his name.” (116:12-13, adapted)

Sweet Jesus, be near to all who call to You, this ordinary day.

All will be well.

Texting Thru Recovery/Indiana Gazette

Thanks to Anthony Frazier for the use of two of his photos.