It is a struggle, as I sit down to write this evening, to form all of my thoughts into a cohesive format. This day...oh, my.
It started as a regular day with regular cinnamon toast. Then Nurse came. Ten minutes into her visit, I knew I was going to throw up, and promptly did so. Maybe I have not made it clear here before, so I will do it now: I hate vomiting. It's for sure in my top 3 things I despise. Right after I returned from brushing my teeth, Nurse re-introduced the prospects of "assistance equipment," including an oxygen tank and a wheelchair. She first introduced the ideas during her visits last week, when I quickly and distinctly turned her down.
I lost the battle today. I am now the horrified owner of a WHEELCHAIR, which you will NEVER see me in.
She left, and then I threw up twice more.
THEN, my sweet Goliath came to me to confess that he "accidentally" read something on my iPad that was hurtful to me, so it was also hurtful to him. He was full of questions and a little bit angry. That caused me to ask more questions and be
a little a lot angry all over again.
What I really want to do here, though, is tell you about last night. This conversation happened:
Goliath: So Mom, you know how you have that cancer?
Me: Yes. Yes, I do.
G: Well, I need to talk to you about something. I'm not sure if it's wrong or not, though.
Me: You can tell me anything, buddy.
G: You know I would do anything for you, right?
G: Every night when I go to bed and I say my bedtime prayers, I pray for you to not have to have cancer anymore. And a lot of nights, I pray that God would just give me your cancer instead. You know, so I could be sick instead of you.
Me: (Solid, streaming tears)
G: Is it wrong for me to pray that, Mom?
I think at that very moment I understood for the first time how sad my parents must be. Because the very thought of my baby having to go through this horrible, wretched disease made my head spin and my heart nearly split in two. At the very thought.
I somehow managed to keep my head on and I dried up my tears. I told my precious baby boy how God doesn't want bad things to happen to us, but they do because we do not live in a perfect world. I reminded him how God wanted perfection for us (remember the Garden of Eden?), but sin messed that all up. I said to him that God has a good plan and great ideas for all of us, and as Christ-followers, one of the hardest things we have to do sometimes is to BELIEVE that is true and TRUST Him to see it through. Yes, even if our mom has cancer. Yes, even if it turns our lives upside down. Yes, even if it sucks. (I allow this boy 'o mine to say the word "sucks" only when it is used in combination with the word "cancer." True mom story.)
Then I said to Goliath that while I don't think he's necessarily wrong to pray this particular prayer, that I wish he wouldn't do it anymore. Simply because I can't stand the thought that God could choose to answer his prayer.
No more than I can believe that I gave birth to a person who would do anything for me. He's only twelve--and I totally believe he would do it if he could. Grace is getting something you totally don't deserve...and if being this kid's mom isn't grace, I don't know what is.