So I'm just going to jump in here. I'm not trying to be insensitive or rude by not getting into more detail, but the fact of the matter is that I'm still processing everything.
I have thyroid cancer. I'm told that if I have to have cancer, this is the kind I want. Yesterday I found out that the cancer has spread to some of my lymph nodes. I'll be having surgery to remove my thyroid, the lymph nodes under my thyroid and the lymph nodes in another section of my neck that all have cancer, as well.
To be blatantly honest, today I'm feeling a little weepy and basically just randomly crying here or there. During one of these water works productions, I was talking to God. And I bet you can pretty much guess what happened...
He comforted me.
I know, I know - at this point, that's kind of a repetitive story in blogs. Nonetheless, I want to share this particular story of comfort.
Let's travel back to the good ol' days. The year was 2007 and little high school senior version of me was starting to understand that CF can really, pardon my french, suck. My CF started progressing and I needed to get a port placed so I could do an aggressive IV treatment from home.
I won't lie guys, I was vain, and still am to a degree. I was so, so, so upset. Not because I was getting sicker, or because I'd be on ivs, or whatever else. I was upset because I really liked my neck. (Bear with me here) I just thought it was so beautiful. Tall and smooth. Imagine if the evil queen from Snow White was just jealous of necks. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall - who has the fairest neck of all?" -- It would have been me. It was the perfect neck. And I was upset about the port because the catheter would make a vein in my neck stick out, and ruin the beauty.
As most of you know, I got the port, and to me, the beauty was ruined.
Fast forward to 2013. I have ECMO in one side of my neck, a tracheostomy in the middle and an IV with so many ports on the left side, it literally looked like a Christmas tree. Needless to say, my neck went from "fairest of them all" to Grand Central Station of Scars.
Soon, it'll undergo yet another surgery, and bear yet another scar.
And the thing is... it's even more beautiful this way. I've said before that my scars show the markings of my Maker and give a visual of how He has rescued me time, and time again. But to be honest, I don't know if I ever actually viewed them as a thing of beauty.
This morning, Jesus opened my eyes to this. The physicality that I mourned over being ruined was actually being made into an extravagant work of art by God. His mural of testimonies.
And although this whole cancer thing is pretty scary and unknown, I love that my favorite artist still isn't finished with his piece yet.
"Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end." Ecclesiastes 3:11
Jesus has shown me what beauty is because God is love.
