And He said unto me, "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."
2 Corinthians 12:9

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

From Connor's Mommy

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

JOySaturday, May 15, 2010 was the 5 year Anniversary of Connor's original diagnosis of Stage IV Neuroblastoma. It was the beginning of our metamorphosis, the changing of all our lives forever. I can't say that I feel like a beautiful butterfly now, but I definitely feel like I have gone through the painful transformation.

This roaring train that began 5 years ago still has its effect on Tait, my children and myself. I thought that when Connor's struggles ended on earth, that the effects of this war would somehow ease on my family. Not so. I see how Mason has anger issues. Wouldn't you be angry, if you were born into this life of cancer chaos? Carson deals with being "bored" every day since Connor's been gone. That's what he told Tait. I believe he's starting to accept this new life without Connor and trying to embrace new friendships and these new circumstances. Kenzie is mature beyond her years. She's had to grow up and be so independent, because Tait and I were not there for her emotionally and physically. Tait and I struggle to help ease our children's pain.

I thought days of watching my children suffer were over. Wrong again. It's just a different kind of suffering. Not physical like Connors, but still suffering. I've had many conversations with God.

"Enough, already! We've gone through four years of pain. Why, more pain? Isn't our punch card full yet? What is your plan in all this?" I thought that at this 5 year mark, I would be shouting praises to God. I could tell all the doctors who doubted my God and Connor's healing, that my God is powerful, awesome and a miraculous God. It wasn't supposed to be this way. "Couldn't God's plan be served better if Connor were healed on earth? Isn't that a better plan, God?" I start doubting his Sovereignty; his willingness to heal in this day and time.

As soon as these cries of doubt leave my mouth, I feel guilty. Should I really say these things to God? Is it disrespectful? Then, I think of my daughter, MacKenzie. If she had a problem, or especially a problem with me, I would want her to come straight to me, not to anyone else. Bring her cares and worries to me, so I can help her. How much more does our Loving Father in Heaven feel about our worries? "Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you." I Peter 5:7

The prophets, Job and King David give us many examples in the old testament of crying out to God, throwing our doubts, complaints and worries His way. Job said, "Though I cry, 'I've been wronged!' I get no response; though I call for help, there is no justice. He has blocked my way so I cannot pass; he has shrouded my paths in darkness. He has stripped me of my honor and removed the crown from my head. He tears me down on every side till I am gone; he uproots my hope like a tree. His anger burns against me; he counts me among his enemies. His troops advance in force; they build a siege ramp against me and encamp around my tent." These honest complaints from Job (some I can relate to) give me confidence to share my innermost worries, without fear or restraint.

I love this new song by Amy Grant, "Better than a Hallelujah". I think she gets it, too. God wants to hear EVERYTHING, good and bad. He wants all of our hearts, not just the good and pretty pieces, but also the hurting, ugly and angry pieces.

God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves the drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.

Always believing,

Joy Cruse

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