Friday, Sophia had her scans. At this point, I really should just say scan....no plural. She is far enough out from treatment we've dropped the chest x-ray and a host of other tests.
Praise God.
Of course, she was getting an MRI of her brain and orbits (i.e. eyes for you non-medical folks out there) so there were still lots of pictures to be taken. Plus an MRI is like a thousand scans rolled into one, so I suppose I could leave in the plural if I wanted.
But I won't.
We will get the results I've been expecting for months on Tuesday at the visit with her oncologist. After today's sermon, even as my faith in what God has promised began to shake a bit, I'm back believing full force in what my gut is telling me.
Any remaining scar/spot is gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.
If you want to walk on water, get out of the boat. Go towards Jesus. If you sink, call for help. Give Him something to work with, then walk back to the boat with Him on the water. Once you climb back in with everyone else, the storm of doubt and fear will cease but you will be with Christ so it won't matter. (Thanks to our Pastor, Christian Washington, for the booster shot against fear I will never forget.)
As a prelude to Tuesday, I wanted to share the experience of being with Sophia in the MRI room. I've never been in there before because she's always been sedated, so a team attended her to make sure she kept breathing, etc. This was clearly different from the get-go, especially when the anesthesiologist suggested we try it without sedation. My eyebrows shot up then, knowing at that instant, God was there. He'd prepped it all up, just like the Master Physician He is.
It started because the anesthesiologist and I couldn't agree how to sedate her (we've been through this close to twenty times, I know what I'm talking about now). He busts out with trying it awake and basically talks himself out of a fee. I was stunned but went with it. Worst that could happen was we'd have to sedate her and do it all over again.
We were in there about 45 minutes and right when the machine cranked up, I knew we were in the Holy of Holies. If you looked at us, there was nothing unusual, but if you've ever had a burning-bush-moment, you know what I mean. We could not have been on more sacred ground. I wanted to take our shoes off, but it would have disturbed Sophia if I moved around, and she had to stay absolutely still to get clear shots.
Which she did for 25 minutes. Another miracle - a 7 year old laying there (without moving) for that length of time. Can you do that? I could not, let me say that out loud. But for the kid who was the youngest ever to receive proton therapy radiation without sedation at 4 years old, 25 minutes with no movement was totally do-able.
The noises the machine made were so odd, loud and overwhelming. Sophia did think they were scary (she told me later).
It was so strange - I could hear music in them. I could hear all the different tones and notes in the mechanical cacophony. It was remarkable, as my mind thought through what my spirit was experiencing.
To me, those noises were the voice of God, speaking into every fiber, telling me what was happening was so much bigger, so much larger, so much more eternal than I could even begin to understand.
Call me crazy, but I know God was speaking in the noises of that machine.
He told me I was in a sacred space, like the high priests of old. He told me they would get what they would need, even if Sophia moved. He told me He already answered my prayers and the prayers of so many.
He told me cancer has no place in our lives.
I wish every mother who has "scan-xiety" could experience this. How different would their experience be if they could embrace the Holy Spirit in His chosen instruments? Oh, I doubt many would chose an MRI machine, but that's the wonder of the Lord. He uses stuff that doesn't make sense.
While I was in there - this verse from Isaiah 64:4 came up:
Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. (Isaiah 64:4)
It was such a gift to be given: to perceive and hear the voice of God in "the doughnut," (the machine's nickname) as I waited. It goes against logic, I realize.
This faith in Christ defies logic. It flies in the face of fear, doubt and everything else I've ever heard about what Sophia's life could be like. I know too much not to believe God. That doesn't mean I'm not walking around with an urge to cross my fingers, but like my pastor said, I've got to give Jesus something to work with.
So I am. I am trusting in I AM. He's all I got and He's all I need. I heard it from His mouth, or rather in the scary noises of the doughnut. I know He is acting on behalf me, because I've waited.
Tuesday morning, 9:45 am. Keep praying, we will all witness a(nother) miracle.
Praise God.
Of course, she was getting an MRI of her brain and orbits (i.e. eyes for you non-medical folks out there) so there were still lots of pictures to be taken. Plus an MRI is like a thousand scans rolled into one, so I suppose I could leave in the plural if I wanted.
But I won't.
We will get the results I've been expecting for months on Tuesday at the visit with her oncologist. After today's sermon, even as my faith in what God has promised began to shake a bit, I'm back believing full force in what my gut is telling me.
Any remaining scar/spot is gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.gone.
If you want to walk on water, get out of the boat. Go towards Jesus. If you sink, call for help. Give Him something to work with, then walk back to the boat with Him on the water. Once you climb back in with everyone else, the storm of doubt and fear will cease but you will be with Christ so it won't matter. (Thanks to our Pastor, Christian Washington, for the booster shot against fear I will never forget.)
As a prelude to Tuesday, I wanted to share the experience of being with Sophia in the MRI room. I've never been in there before because she's always been sedated, so a team attended her to make sure she kept breathing, etc. This was clearly different from the get-go, especially when the anesthesiologist suggested we try it without sedation. My eyebrows shot up then, knowing at that instant, God was there. He'd prepped it all up, just like the Master Physician He is.
It started because the anesthesiologist and I couldn't agree how to sedate her (we've been through this close to twenty times, I know what I'm talking about now). He busts out with trying it awake and basically talks himself out of a fee. I was stunned but went with it. Worst that could happen was we'd have to sedate her and do it all over again.
We were in there about 45 minutes and right when the machine cranked up, I knew we were in the Holy of Holies. If you looked at us, there was nothing unusual, but if you've ever had a burning-bush-moment, you know what I mean. We could not have been on more sacred ground. I wanted to take our shoes off, but it would have disturbed Sophia if I moved around, and she had to stay absolutely still to get clear shots.
Which she did for 25 minutes. Another miracle - a 7 year old laying there (without moving) for that length of time. Can you do that? I could not, let me say that out loud. But for the kid who was the youngest ever to receive proton therapy radiation without sedation at 4 years old, 25 minutes with no movement was totally do-able.
The noises the machine made were so odd, loud and overwhelming. Sophia did think they were scary (she told me later).
It was so strange - I could hear music in them. I could hear all the different tones and notes in the mechanical cacophony. It was remarkable, as my mind thought through what my spirit was experiencing.
To me, those noises were the voice of God, speaking into every fiber, telling me what was happening was so much bigger, so much larger, so much more eternal than I could even begin to understand.
Call me crazy, but I know God was speaking in the noises of that machine.
He told me I was in a sacred space, like the high priests of old. He told me they would get what they would need, even if Sophia moved. He told me He already answered my prayers and the prayers of so many.
He told me cancer has no place in our lives.
I wish every mother who has "scan-xiety" could experience this. How different would their experience be if they could embrace the Holy Spirit in His chosen instruments? Oh, I doubt many would chose an MRI machine, but that's the wonder of the Lord. He uses stuff that doesn't make sense.
While I was in there - this verse from Isaiah 64:4 came up:
Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. (Isaiah 64:4)
It was such a gift to be given: to perceive and hear the voice of God in "the doughnut," (the machine's nickname) as I waited. It goes against logic, I realize.
This faith in Christ defies logic. It flies in the face of fear, doubt and everything else I've ever heard about what Sophia's life could be like. I know too much not to believe God. That doesn't mean I'm not walking around with an urge to cross my fingers, but like my pastor said, I've got to give Jesus something to work with.
So I am. I am trusting in I AM. He's all I got and He's all I need. I heard it from His mouth, or rather in the scary noises of the doughnut. I know He is acting on behalf me, because I've waited.
Tuesday morning, 9:45 am. Keep praying, we will all witness a(nother) miracle.
1 comment:
Praising God! He is faithful!!! "In Christ Alone my HOPE is found."
Love you all to pieces and clinging to His promises!!!
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