Seeking to trust in the storm...

(This is a new account. I messed the other one up with the wrong e-mail address)

Right now, Mom's condition has stabilized, as one nurse described it.That puts us in the calm days/weeks between the traumatic beginning and the last days of her journey...sort of "the eye of the hurricane" in some ways. She is eating solid food, but in small amounts. Her stomach is distended greatly due to the cancer of the liver causing excess build up of fluid in the abdominal cavity, and this puts pressure on her stomach, so she cannot hold much food or water at one time. She vomits readily, so we are vigilant in our watch over the amount of fluid she drinks at one time. She has vomited many times simply from "overdosing" on water--drinking a full glass at once. She only eats food to please us, she told her friend Sally. However, the fact that she is still eating solid food at all is somewhat miraculous to me considering how we were almost to the point of putting her on a liquid diet just a few weeks ago. Still, when I give her a bath, I see that her back looks like a skeleton.

My mother has told people that God has healed her. Perhaps to a degree, He has done so because we cannot explain the improvement in her health from what it was at the hospital. She has had many people pray that she would get well, and some came and annointed her with oil, so she is now believing that she was going to live. We do not talk to her about death anymore because she believes she will be healed and we don't want to pour water on her faith.

I'm all for a positive attitude,but what do I do with these doubts? I do believe that God has the power to do anything. He certainly hung the galaxies in place, so I believe making tumors disappear would be effortless to Him. I have prayed, sincerely, and with tears and intercession, for my Mother to be healed. I have offered my mustard seed faith and requested, like in the Bible, "Help my unbelief." However, when I can still feel the masses in her abdomen without any effort, and I see her belly swelling up like it does with liver cancer, and I observe her diminishing energy levels, it makes it hard for me to believe she will overcome this.So I feel like a doubting Thomas, as much as I want Mom to be healed.

I will hold fast to Christ even if the Lord does not heal Mom. I will cling to Him, and trust His plans, even if they are not ones I want.

Does anyone understand this battle? Faith? YES! Clinging to Jesus? ABSOLUTELY! Yet I'm living without any blindness or denial of her actual physical conditions that I can see and touch.

Most of the time I'm a pretty calm person inwardly and outwardly. My children consider me a cheerful person by nature. I like to laugh and have fun.I don't want people to think that the encouraging words I've given in person or in writing on Caringbridge have been an effort to hide behind a mask. That's far from the truth. My words come from my heart. I value authenticity and dislike pretense. I am creating this blog because I do not want to share my more vulnerable emotions with everyone, as in Caringbridge. Those of you who really know me already know that when I struggle emotionally with sadness or fear, I become quiet because I'm thinking deeply. Then I write to get the feelings out. This gives me a place to do that safely.

It feels like a roller coaster to be feeling "normal" and then have these "episodes" of emotions falling apart.It is not typical for me to be in emotional upheaval. But I have these "attacks" of sorrow that just hit me, sometimes like a gentle rain, and other times like a hurricane. I will think about how much I will miss some aspect of my relationship with Mom, or a future family celebration like having her at my daughter's graduation or their weddings someday,of not sharing some future milestone in my children's lives with her, and then I lose it a while, tearing up or even sobbing very hard. Sometimes when a loss occurs to me in the middle of the night,I just sob into my pillow for a while and then go back to sleep. I guess this is normal for me though some women hardly shed tears. (I wish I could be more like that).

Perhaps this deep pain is because of the depth of my relationship with Mom all these years. Nurturer. Encourager. Counselor. Prayer warrior. Companion. Devoted friend. Those titles are describe who my mother has been all my 42 years. Our bond is strong and the roots of our friendship go deep.No one can replace a Mother like that. No human being can fill the voids she will leave behind.

My mother became my best friend and confidante when I was a teenager and found that I could tell her all the darkest emotions and failures and doubts in my mind, and she would love me and pray for me and believe in me anyway. She would listen to me and pray for me with understanding and genuine concern. She is also the one who taught me, not by words, but by our lengthy times in prayer together in my teen years, how to intercede and weep before God on someone else's behalf. No one has ever prayed with me on the behalf my friends and children the way that my mother has prayed with me and for me! I recall a time in my teens, and a few times since, that she and I have taken turns praying aloud and lost all sense of time. I don't know how long we prayed like that, but it was wonderful! How can I replace that loss of a prayer partner like that? No friend or sister has known me to the depth that she does. No one has loved me more unconditionally.

When I feel overwhelmed by thoughts of her death, I want to tell someone how I feel, yet I feel afraid of criticism from those who do not understand me. Some may misinterpret my "negative" feelings. Plus, I recognize that the average person does not need to or desire to know. That's just a reality of life and I expect that since it's normal.

The reality is,what I am facing is the fact that the one person on this earth who has understood me and listened to me better than any other person who have lived (other than Jesus) is leaving me, and there is inexpressible pain in my heart over that loss as I watch her flicker out gradually like a candle before it extinguishes. Yes, I have so much to be thankful for, and I am giving thanks repeatedly, from my heart, every single day many times. No,I'm not having a huge pity party. Yet I still have sadness that I cannot even describe here as I realize the graveness of her condition and the personal ramifications of separation from her and a cut in our line of communication. The cut in the line of communication is what I fear the most. I could bounce my thoughts off of Mom without fear of her being down my throat or thinking I was being stupid for thinking that way. Losing that quality in her is a huge loss in my life.

I'm already my own critic today. I wonder to myself, and now I write those thoughts to others whom I do trust. Is becoming a weeping mess,like today, the opposite of "abiding in Christ"? Are the spiritually mature the ones who experience never-ending calm and the absence of the aching weepiness even while facing such a loss as this? Is it somehow abnormal, immature, or a sign of my spiritual weakness to have negative emotions jump on me like an ambush me at times, clinging to my mind with fears or sorrows.Then I have to fight off those thoughts with Bible verses that remind me of the truth of God's hope and love.

I do not cry at Mom's because I just focus on the task of taking care of her. I also do not want her to see my tears because I don't want her to feel pain for leaving us. However, when I return home after days and nights with Mom, I am hit the worst. My emotions have opposing inclines of joy and then twists and dips of sorrow when I am alone at home, especially at night. My family would say that I'm normally a cheerful person, and even these days I am so, yet I now have this quick trigger to tears on days like today. I can go for days without tears, but then today, at home on my day off, I have "fallen apart" over and over. Losing Mom is the biggest loss I have ever faced, and it is more painful than losing my Dad 5 years ago, and far more painful that losing my grandparents, even though I loved them.

I write here because I am a "writer," (not professionally by any means!) but more than a writer than a speaker. I am a quiet, reflective person at times. It helps me to write out my thoughts as I work through losses, questions, and contemplations about life. I have invited you to this blog because I trust you. You are family, a true friend, someone who has told me that you have been encouraged by what I have written on Caringbridge, or a combination of those. Thanks for helping me get through this because you care.

If you want to respond to me here, or in the e-mail or Facebook, please do! Share your burdens with me so I can pray for you in your struggles. I care about what is going on in YOUR life, too, and I want to know how to pray for you.It is not "all about me." I care about the hurts in your life and how God is helping you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this all the way to here! Your time is valuable to me. It means a lot to have you "listen." Blessings!
Cyndi