In front of me are two stacks of papers. One is the itinerary for Abby's trip to France with her French club. Pairs, Loire, the Riviera--she is going to Provence! She'll see the Louvre, stand on the top of the Eiffel Tower, try to find that organic bakery that kel told us about--she will be where I have only dreamed to go. Never in my life did I believe that France would be so ---accessible.
The other stack is all the notes I have taken while talking to my mother. She really doesn't want to know exactly this cancer is about, and no one else does either. The doctor said chemo, so that's what she's doing. Because of the privacy issue, the doctor's staff can't share information with me--not a thing. NOT ANYTHING. And I want to know. EVERYTHING. That's how I deal with issues--get as much info as possible. And now I'm hitting a brick wall because no one in my family has asked any questions. This is the way they deal with crisis--not dealing with it at all.
Just a little history (without the boring details): no, I am not close with my family. At all. I talk with my brother, which is frustrating, as he is a traditional complementarian--he talks to me like I'm simple and he has all the answers because he is a man, made in God's image, and I am a woman, made to glorify man. My insights are met with correction and doubt. He has a good heart, which keeps me from biting his head off...there is no communication with my two sisters or my father--the level of bitterness and hatred from them is unreal and my father--well, he just isn't safe.
What I do know is that my mother has a recurrence cancer in her spine and internal organs. The doctor did advise that my nephew, Justin, come home sooner than later to see his granma--like right now. This was met with puzzlement from my brother: "Why is he coming right now? Why not wait until later when she is better?" Is this faith or denial?
I had a dream/vision at 2:50 exactly on Monday morning. I saw the clock, I was awake--but I was speaking to the cancer in my mother's body. We were in the same place, that cancer and me. "I don't believe you," I said to it. "You are not bigger than my faith. I am in Christ, Christ is in me, and you have no power."
And it spoke back: "But we have permission."
When I think I'm going under
Part the waters Lord.
When I feel the waves around me
Calm the sea.
When I cry for help
O here me Lord
and hold out Your hand.
Touch my life
Still the raging storm in me.
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