It’s cancer. Malignant. Stage 4. Angry and aggressive. Rare. Incurable.
The oncologist is speaking, and she is saying words that surely I must have heard before. But never have I realized what ugly, vile words they are. These words? Describing me? Unbelievable!
The oncologist goes on, almost apologetically, explaining that medical science doesn’t know what could have caused this terrible disease, especially since I do not have any of the usual risk factors. I am young-ish, not overweight, non-smoker, no family history. Not even any genetic mutations or elevated tumor markers. Well, medical science may not have clinical evidence to prove it, but secretly, I suspect the real cause. In fact, I have suspected it for years.
I mean, the human body can only endure so much anxiety and trauma and grief and heartache, before something has got to give. Honestly, during our 20+ years of caring for some of our community’s most broken and most fragile and most needy children in our home, I have given my finite body an Olympic-worthy workout. I have demanded of my little adrenal glands, day after day, year after year that they keep producing an almost constant stream of adrenaline and cortisol, those hormones that the body needs during times of extreme stress. How can that not eventually have an adverse effect?
Those thousands of nights when I should have been sleeping, that vital time when the body’s cells restore and rejuvenate, but instead I was keeping vigil at a child’s bedside, wondering if he or she would survive until morning. The thousands of nights when I cried into my pillow, wondered if I would survive until morning. Managing countless moments of destructive behaviors, calming violent outbursts and tantrums, trying desperately to understand the hidden fears and hurts behind the rage. Grabbing a quick granola bar or skipping meals altogether on my way out the door to yet another appointment or meeting or visit or court hearing. The frequent worry and desperate prayers for a child’s uncertain and precarious future. The dozens and dozens of times that I was overcome by grief, weeping for days when a flawed court system suddenly decided that a precious child who had been a part of my heart and a beloved member of our family for months or years, would not be able to stay, and I knew that life would never again be the same.
How could many years of, quite literally, laying down my life (John 15:13) for the least of these (Matthew 25:45) not eventually have an impact? How could a lifetime of “being poured out as a drink offering” (2 Timothy 4:6) not eventually take its toll?
On the drive home from the appointment with the oncologist, my husband and I are both stunned, and we are both thinking of our own uncertain and precarious future. He asks me, in all sincerity, Do you have a bucket list? It’s the “list” that people make, when they write down everything they want to accomplish or experience in their limited time left on earth. My husband is most likely thinking of something along the lines of sky diving, or mountain climbing, or learning to speak Italian, or traveling one last time to a beautiful, exotic location.
As I ponder his question over the next few days, I realize that I do not, in fact, have a bucket list. Or do I? It’s true that I do not have a shelf full of trophies or travel photos or advanced degrees. I never wrote a book or gave an inspiring speech or posted a video that went viral. I never went sky diving.
However, I can look back at my life and honestly say that God has already allowed me the great privilege of accomplishing every single item on the bucket list that I didn’t even know I had. In fact, my Bucket, the life which I have lived, has been filled with love and joy and purpose. Overflowing with gratitude that God would choose me, inadequate and unqualified as I am, to care for the forgotten ones. So often I prayed that God would bring into our home the ones that no one else wanted. The ones that no one else was brave enough to love. And so often, He faithfully answered that prayer. What an incredible honor it has been to serve Him in that way!!
All the loving and serving and giving.
All the comforting and soothing and connecting.
All the training and redirecting and disciplining.
All the feeding and bathing and dressing.
All the holding and rocking and singing.
All the encouraging and nurturing and inspiring.
All of those moments of sacrifice were invisible. And yet, not one of those invisible moments of sacrifice were wasted. So what if most of the 8 billion people in the world will never know my name? I know, with absolute certainty, that the 72 children who lived in my home now know the name of Jesus. They were prayed over. They were loved, fully and passionately and deeply. And doesn’t that make all the other stuff, the sleepless nights and the missed meals and the distress and the hardships, yes, even the compromised health, absolutely worth it? How could I regret loving even one of them?
There is the little boy who is alive today because, when he was in the hospital and the doctors’ goal was to make him as comfortable as possible until the end, I said yes to caring for him and protecting him. I am profoundly grateful that God allowed me to witness, up close and personally, the miracle that is this child’s life!
There was another little boy who came to us broken - severely traumatized, physically scarred, unable to do anything except sit on the floor and rock himself back and forth or bang his head against the wall. He never slept for more than 30 minutes at a time. After months of patiently waiting, gently nurturing, and intentionally connecting, I was amazed and thrilled the day that he picked up a toy. And played with it. When I heard his beautiful laughter breaking through the brokenness, my heart almost exploded. My Bucket overflowed!
There were the two boys who lived with us many years ago. Their father recently contacted us and said, “I am forever indebted to you. I returned to the church after years away. When you took care of my boys, that was the beginning of my becoming a Christ follower.” Just, wow! To think that my husband and I get to spend all of eternity with this man, worshipping Jesus together!! What could possibly be added to my Bucket List that would be more amazing than that?!
There are the five little ones who came into our home as strangers, wards of the state, belonging to no one. One of them did not even have a name, just the words “Baby Boy” typed on his birth certificate. Well, trust me, he has a name now . . . our name. These five now belong, permanently and irrevocably, to a family. They are, each one of them, our beloved sons and daughters! Would I have preferred a simpler, easier, more comfortable life in exchange for never having met them? For never having the great privilege of being their mom? For losing even one moment of loving them? Never! With these five treasures in my life, my Bucket List is 100% complete.
So what happens now? Now, that I face such a frightening and unknown future? Well, now I do the same things that I have always done. The same energy which I poured into all those precious children, giving them hope for their future, I am now pouring into my health, giving myself hope for my future. The same faith that I held onto tenaciously, trusting, believing with every breath that God has good plans for each one of them, is the same faith that I hold onto now, trusting, believing with every breath that God has good plans for me. The same fervent prayers I used to pray for God’s hand of healing upon them, I am now praying for God’s hand of healing upon myself.
Throughout the years, there have been many times when God answered my desperate prayers, in incredible and unexpected ways, more than I ever could have imagined. I have stood in awe at the amazing events that He was able to bring about! At the impossible circumstances He was able to overcome. At the miracles that were so extraordinary, so awesome, I was left breathless!
And there were many other times when the unthinkable happened. I have stood in shock when my most heartfelt prayers remained unanswered. When things did not turn out as I had hoped. When I was left with nothing but loss and heartache and emptiness.
And the same is true now. I may live only a few more months, or I may, miraculously, live many more years. But either way, if the miracle happens or if the unthinkable happens, I know that God is perfectly able to accomplish His purposes (Isaiah 46:10-11). Either way, I know that not one of His promises will fail (Joshua 21:45). The future may be uncertain, but of this I am convinced . . . not death or life, not the present or the future, not joy or sorrow, not anything will be able to separate me from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39). My life, my “bucket” if you will, belongs entirely to Him.
I am truly, truly thankful that God has loved me and that He has chosen me and that He called me to this amazing journey. I have no regrets. Yes, choosing a life of selfless living may have finally caught up with me. But guess what? I may not live a long life, but I lived!! I lived fully. I loved well. I fought hard. I ran strong. I gave my all. And despite the many times I faltered and thought for sure I wasn’t going to make it, by God’s amazing love and faithfulness and grace, my faith held on.
My Bucket List has overflowed. It has been poured out. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For I am already being poured out as a drink offering,
and the time of my departure has come.
I have fought the good fight,
I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
2 Timothy 4:6-7
No comments:
Post a Comment