Like Birds On A Wire

This Thanksgiving started out like any other normal Thanksgiving for me:

-Bonding over teaching stories with my Grandma, who used to be a teacher.

-Coming up with another creative way to answer "no" to my Grandpa's favorite question: "Any guys hanging out around your doorstep these days?" I've tried to mix it up throughout the years...keeps it interesting.

However, this has been no ordinary Thanksgiving.

My world was shaken on Tuesday afternoon as news came to me that my dad's brain tumor had returned. Once more, I think, bracing myself for all of those familiar fears and emotions. This is the third time my dad has faced cancer. Each time the same questions arise and the same emotions swell.

Surgery to remove the tumor happened on Wednesday morning. All went well, however facing my dad in the ICU afterwards proved to be a difficult task. Still drugged up and bandaged up, my big strong dad appeared before my eyes as a small, vulnerable child. In this situation, I found that I was the one needing to be strong. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stepped up quickly into that role. Soaking up his new surroundings, his eyes were wide and his brow furrowed.

I winked to break the tension...he winked back.

"You're so beautiful," he said weakly.

Swallowing hard and laughing a little, "So are you" I replied.

Keeping things light seemed to be my saving grace.

I left after a few intense interactions and made my way back to be with my grandparents.

Thursday: Thanksgiving Day
Friends and neighbors have brought baskets, bags and boxes of food over for us. My dad is out of ICU, and now into his own hospital room. We spent the afternoon in his room, muddling through conversations. His tumor had grown on the outside of the speech lobe. The swelling in this area after surgery has made language production extremely difficult (Ex. toothbrush=truck driver). He found success in spelling out words or using weak motions to gesture at what he meant. We leave and find Thanksgiving food to eat at home. Food made by other's hands. Food that is familiar and comforting on such an unfamiliar Thanksgiving day.

In all of this, my heart has been full. When the wire that this little bird perched on was shaken, I watched as my dear friends were shaken right along with me. They rode this wave out with me, praying and fasting with me, checking in on me, strengthening my inner-self. In every morning that I awoke I sensed a new strength rising up in me. New eyes to see beyond physical realities. Thank you, my sisters, for standing with me.

I am young in years (no matter how old 25 feels to me...) and have maybe faced the idea of death more so than others my own age. In facing death, I have come to hold Life in my heart with more weight. I am learning that life and death do not compare to Life and Death. In this trial, I have tasted a little bit of Paul's joy in his chains, Mother Theresa's hope in heartache, Christ's obedience in suffering. Pain sucks...but it is simply incomparable to the gift of Life. I sense now more than ever that I am held in his gaze, utterly loved, and can never be left Fatherless.

In His stronghold, we are simply unconquerable.