The Color Fade

If you look closely in our little town, you can find a few trees with lingering bright shades of yellow and red.  Their vibrancy refuses to believe December is here in full force.  As I stare hard at the leaves, I can't help but almost be deceived that they probably only have weeks of life left before they fall to the ground in a swirl of decayed brittleness.

It all points me back to a year ago, with Herb's stage four cancer diagnosis that was trying to latch onto fall only to dive headlong into a harsh winter.  I know it is stating the obvious, but the last month was the hardest, both physically and emotionally.  What still grips me to this day is that his soul was full of vibrant shades of color even though his body had turned a pasty white. He was alive on the inside and that's why it was so hard to watch his body fall to the ground, threatening decay. He was still our beloved and wise father, Papa, friend, husband, and teacher.  We just couldn't get that healing to come on earth as we had hoped.

To state that I miss him is also rather obvious.  Words elude me at just how much he meant to me, and probably to you, too.  I knew there would be a huge hole left.  I guess I had hoped the hole would have been stitched up by now.  It hasn't been.  It's our new normal. Sometimes, you can be whole and still have holes.  The only thing I can offer is that I am truly content with God being God.  If Herb's cancer diagnosis and death is what brings the Good Father the most glory, then my heart is resting in that.  If there is anything I have learned over the years, it is that I don't have to understand God in order to praise Him. And oh, how He must be so delighted in that purest and most raw form of surrender-worship.

I see you in your cancer-walk.  I see you, who just got diagnosed and is doing everything in your power to just catch your breath.  The shock is about to knock you over sideways. If I can tell you anything, it's that God is going to walk every step of this with you.

I see you, the one who is bravely smack dab in the middle of this cancer journey.  You had no idea God would ever take you down this path, but you've surrendered yourself and asked God to glorify Himself.  The treatment plans may or may not be working.  Things may either be hopeful or bleak.  But, I see the smile etched on your face as Christmas approaches. Wrap your loved ones up, and cherish each word, each dimple, each laugh.

I see you, the one who has entered the last season.  You have lost over fifty pounds.  Nothing tastes good.  The doctor has bravely looked you in the eyes and said he simply doesn't know what else to do.  Your loved ones are huddled around, their eyes crying out for you to stay, but their words offering you the freedom to go home.  You need to know that you will be missed.  You are irreplaceable.  Holes will be made that may never quite stitch up.  But, if you are in Christ, then your approaching death is every bit for His Glory as your life.  Go rest on the Beloved.