Bone Tired Weary

The mold in the shower is thick.  1500 images have been edited and handed out in time for people to mail their Christmas cards.  Building blocks are scattered and the dishwasher is screaming under the bulk. I can't find my closet floor due to the unwrapped gifts.  My daily chant is "there is not enough of me to go around." I force myself to whisper to all those around because if I raise my voice even once, I will break out into a primal scream that can't be turned off.

So, this is cancer.

We are bone tired weary and all I have done is cry for a week straight.

I looked at them, last Saturday night, sitting on opposite sides of the hospital bed, still deeply in love.  As if there was no place they would rather be, than right there in each other's presence, toes kicking each other in the ribs.

It will forever be one of my favorite memories of my in-laws.  Cuddled up in a hospital bed where love conquered all the ache, disease, what-ifs, sleepless nights, fears, and body cells gone terribly awry.

Love won in that moment.

Herb told me about his grandkids and how much joy they have brought him.  He told me how he would love for Zach to find his future bride so he could know her.  He told me things I tucked away to treasure at a later date.

Even now I am sobbing.  Even now I am begging God to intervene.

Tonight, she fell.  Eric's grandmother was alone because Barbara has to be at the hospital so much and I wonder if Barbara's chant is, "there is not enough of me to go around." Eric and the boys rushed over to get her into a chair and checked her over for bumps and bruises.  I later went over to offer her an icepack.  She told me about her brother that had been buried a week ago.

I had no idea.  I lay on her bed and cried with her.  Out of eleven children, she is the only one left.  I have lost one sibling.  It changed me forever.  I can't imagine losing every single one. Grandmother has lost her parents, her brothers, her sisters, her husband, and now her oldest son is laying in the hospital fighting for his life and she isn't even well enough to go see him.  I entered her ache and sobbed alongside of her.

Why is it just so hard?

My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.
	On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; All other ground is sinking sand,   All other ground is sinking sand.
	When darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace; In every high and stormy gale, My anchor holds within the veil.
	His oath, His covenant, His blood, Support me in the whelming flood; When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.
	When He shall come with trumpet sound, Oh, may I then in Him be found; In Him, my righteousness, alone, Faultless to stand before the throne.     {I don't have any fancy words.  I can't even get the above words to line up correctly. My eyelids are about to shut on me.  Pray we can swim freely in the ever present grace instead of thrashing about as if He isn't holding us tightly.}