Holding your hand

I think I've been asking all the wrong questions.  I don't suppose there's any reason to expect that I would understand why things are happening as they are, really, is there? From experience you don't announce something, then wait for questions and explain yourself before proceeding. If understanding comes, which it often doesn't, then it evolves over time and doesn't dawn on me like a light going on.

So I should stop wasting your time and mine in trying to work it all out. Katy has a lump on her neck and surgery seems likely. I have a lump in my breast and I don't know what it is or if anything needs doing about it. So today, as I wait for Katy's appointment time to arrive, and mine in a few hours, I am going to concentrate on not dwelling on the 'why?' and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.  I don't think you want me to do anything more than that. 

I spent yesterday evening with two of the loveliest friends a person could have. Another wise and kind and perceptive person came round to drop off a meal for tonight because she thought that when I got in from the two hour breast clinic appointment I probably wouldn't fancy cooking.  Bryan arrived home late last night having caught a train from London to be with me and Katy today. Mum has been quietly helping out and doing what needs to be done to keep things running smoothly. This morning already I have had a host of text messages from friends who are remembering what today holds for me. I feel blessed indeed to be surrounded by such wonderful warm, kind people. Thankyou Lord. Your family is an amazing thing. I feel as if I have loving people all round me and if my legs go wobbly they'll help to hold me up. 

I'm holding your hand today. I'm holding it tight and letting you lead me just as I hold onto Katy and steer her across a road. I'm not going to let go because I don't want to lose you, and I know that you have no intention of letting go of me. I won't slip out of your grasp. I know that sometimes just like Katy, I lean back and dig my heels in and you can feel me resist as you pull me along, complaining and whining. Even at those times I don't want to let go. 

I don't feel like a grown up today. I know that when I have Katy on my knee and the doctor is telling me what needs to be done to make her better I will be in parent mode, and I know I will look after her and be calm and reassuring and everything she needs me to be, but today, underneath, I feel as if I want to sit on your lap and just be held and have you stroke my hair and whisper that it's alright, there's no need to be afraid, because you will look after me. You'll make it alright.

My feelings are all over the place. One minute I am resolute and strong, the next crumbling with fear of the unknown. To be honest it's not fear of the unknown at all, it's fear of what I perceive to be the worst case scenario this afternoon or whenever I get the results of whatever tests they do. Fear that I'm going to have to learn to live with the shadow of something hanging over me, forever wondering if some day soon it's all going to be over for me in a few months of misery and illness.

That was a little wallow, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I'm sitting here looking out of the window at the sun on newly cut grass, and sparrows and blackbirds on the bird table, some beautiful poppies just opening out. From here I can't quite see all the weeding that needs doing or the annoying bird poo on the new bench. In a bowl in front of me are the pebbles I brought home from our exquisite weekend at the beach, including all the smiley ones.  We found so many, and I didn't have the heart to discard any. I've got a cup of coffee; another couple of encouraging texts have arrived since I have been writing this.  I have so much to be thankful for. 

I have you. I have a God who loves me. I have a God who has defeated the worst that this world can do to me, so that no matter what, I will not be crushed. I am afraid, but you are not, and a tiny part of me hears you when you tell me that I don't need to be afraid either. I can hold onto you and shelter behind you and you will take care of me. I don't know what form that will take, and though I keep trying to persuade you to do it my way, I know in my heart that you know best, and I have chosen your way.  In my small, weak, faulty way, I know that it is the only true way.

Here's today, Lord. Thankyou that I'm not alone.