Truth is…

I don’t really have anything profound, inspiring, or spiritual to say this evening. It’s been a very hard few days for me mentally. We have a wonderful DIPG community on Facebook and have gotten to know so many families through this common bond. Although I would never want this for anyone, it’s very comforting to know that other families are going through this with us. But this week has been hard. In one week’s time, 4 children have died due to DIPG. FOUR. It’s so sad to me to think that they suffered as they did and that their family could only sit back and watch… and wait.

And then there is Molly. She still struggles and all signs of cancer are not gone. There are still headaches, dizziness, wobbles, difficulties with stairs, exhaustion, appetite issues, and more. It’s a constant reminder that this still lingers and is not going away anytime soon. It’s exhausting, frustrating, sad, maddening… and I can’t change it.
Sure, I can continue to seek out a miracle, and I do. I can find comfort in Scripture and see what God has in store for us, and I do. But days like the last few, nothing comes to me. I don’t have this great revelation. No big lesson is taught. I don’t even necessarily find a peace. This is not God’s lack of love for me. It is still there. I know it is. It is not that He has lost interest in me. I know He hasn’t because He purchased me with something so precious. It is not His lack of ability to be here for me because He is everywhere. I think at times, it’s that we are in the waiting phase. All is quiet before something big happens. Other times, it’s lack of communication… on my part. I haven’t talked to Him like I should. Listen to Him, like I need to. Gaze upon Him like I know He desires. Instead, I look at what is in front of me and cry.
I don’t think that God is unhappy with me. I know there is a time to laugh and a time to cry. And I know He understands that time is so hard to come by these days. Every ounce of my being is spent on caring for the girls, in particular, Molly. I like to think that He is still pleased with me. And I know He is waiting for me to fall into His arms and cry. Perhaps that is what I need tonight.
It’s all so sad. And even though I don’t know what God’s plan is for Molly and our family, the statistics are against us. No child has ever survived this tumor. Can Molly be the first? I believe she can be for sure. But I don’t know if that is the plan. So am I to put myself out there and fully believe she will be healed and then be crushed if it doesn’t happen? Or am I to live like today is our last day with her and prepare for what is to come?
I don’t think anyone has the right answer to those questions. I think it’s got to be a mixture of both. But my whole being wants it all to disappear. This nightmare. This tragedy. I wish it all away. My entire body aches and my mind is so weary from all this emotion. I love Molly so much. And I love my family. I don’t want it to change. I don’t want to see her suffer…

Written November 17, 2014

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