Today I’m in a huge funk.
I’m not usually one to get in a funk; I get irritated, annoyed, sad if there’s a reason for it, but usually get over it quickly.
Happy is my default. Maybe not deliriously, gloriously joyful, but basically I’m pretty content most of the time.
I’m not one to mope and it takes a LOT for me to get to the point where I wish a bad case of the flu upon myself just so I can go to bed for a week.
That’s just not me.
And yet here I am….wishing I could have the flu, go to bed in a dark room, and pull the covers over my head for a week or so.
I think its because the date of Annie’s next MRI is bearing down upon me; I flipped my calendar to August and there it was: August 13th. 9:00 am. How did 90 days go by so quickly?
I wonder, again, if we’ve made the right decision to wait and pray rather than scheduling surgery?
And then I remember quickly that it wouldn’t matter if we had the surgery or not, “MRIs will be a part of Annie’s life for years to come,” per her brain surgeon.
And I’m sure as the date of each MRI approaches, surgery or not, I would experience this same gut-wrenching anxiety as I torment myself with the same questions over and over again like I’m doing right now: Is the tumor still there? Has it grown? Has it spread? Will it have fingers or tentacles this time? Maybe there are others this time?
And so on.
And I wonder what’s wrong with me?
Why am I doubting?
I have spent the last 80 days praying for God to heal Annie, and I totally believe that HE CAN.
I totally believe that HEALING IS GOD’S WILL.
I totally believe that HEALING IS GOD’S WILL FOR ANNIE.*
*One of these days I’ll post all the Scriptures that have led me to believe that this is true.
And then I wonder if I prayed enough. If I fasted enough. If I had enough faith. If I fed her enough of the good stuff and cut out enough of the bad stuff. Because what if I missed some crucial step along the way….
One thing I know is that life on this earth is hard. But one day we’ll exchange these old flimsy, diseased, decaying tents we call bodies for flawless, permanent ones that don’t break down or wear out.
And I can’t wait for that day.
There won’t be any brain tumors in heaven.
There won’t be any flu in heaven.
But if I could just catch a tiny little case of it right now that would be great…
Click on search label tumor to read all of Annie’s story.