Line in the SandThere are times I want to draw a line in the sand, as if to say "Here, and no further." As if I can expect the Lord Almighty to say, "Oh, okay" and respect that I can't handle anything beyond that line. I wonder if it's with an amused smile or a sad shake of His head that He wonders at the smallness of my faith. And I can't help but wonder if that's the point. He knows the line as well as I do, where faith in my own coping skills end and full trust in Him begins. 2012 has been lesson after lesson in learning to trust God. Even now I find myself at a crossroads. How long must God repeat Himself before this lesson is learned and my trust is completely placed in Him, no matter where the line is drawn? Heck, at what point do I erase the line altogether because it no longer matters?
Two months ago I posted about our cancer scare with Dad. Two months ago I arrogantly said that since doctors weren't worried, I was voiding my own fear. (There's that whole trusting science over God bit again.) Two months of delayed biopsies and rescheduled biopsy results appointments. Two months of constant run around, further proving to me the lack of worry or urgency. And yet no matter my gut feeling to the news that a lump had been found in September, I was still shocked to hear, "Munchkin, it's cancer."
It appears that bad news and birthdays go hand-in-hand in 2012. (I hereby request that we forego anymore birthdays until 2013. I don't care that December is full of them.) And seeing that it was Devyn's birthday, I went into autopilot. No time to react, no time to dwell; choosing instead to celebrate her. There was a concert to watch and McDonald's dinner to enjoy, no time to process the fact that Dad has cancer. I still haven't cried, perhaps I'm afraid if I start, I won't stop. Yet I've been up since 2:00am, a sure sign that the news is sinking in.
Dad has an appointment with an oncologist next week. I wonder if the doctor is prepared to meet my parents, surrounded by the army of four, strong-willed daughters who are determined their dad will beat this thing. Its been said that there's nothing like a woman scorned, but I beg to differ. There's nothing like a daughter whose not willing to face a life without a parent. But in all seriousness, I can rest my soul in this. My God has this. Not me, not my dad, not even his doctors. My God will fight for us, we need only be still. For there is no one like my God. No one.