It’s not a day we celebrate.
But it’s a day we never ever forget.
Cancerversary.
How can this day still knock me out year after year? I cannot express how much I hate that I am still FLATTENED every July 23. There is such a huge part of me that sneers, “Get over it! He’s here! He’s fine! It’s in the past! Thank God for his healing and move on!”
We have SO MUCH that we praise God for! They said he wouldn’t survive the day. BUT GOD! We have our beautiful boy, and 9 years later he is still here living his best life!
But on July 23, I just stay stuck. Stuck reliving every shell-shocked moment of that day. It’s like re-watching a movie when the worst part is about to happen. I want to shout at the unsuspecting characters what I know is coming, “Watch out! You’re about to be hit by a train!”
That is always what I go back to. We never saw it coming. We had no idea that life as we knew it was about to end and would never ever be the same. July 23, 2014 BC. Before Cancer. The steel toe kick to the stomach and the concrete truck sitting on my chest.
The emotions of cancerversary remind me to give thanks and to love big because you never what what’s around the corner.
They remind me that I’m not who I was 9 years ago, and I never will be. Cancer changed my DNA and that’s ok.
They remind me that even though I will never ever understand why this happened to my baby, God is big enough for my questions, my hurt, my anger, and even my unbelief.
They remind me that out of the worst and darkest season of our life were birthed some of the deepest, most genuine and priceless relationships we could never have expected and that would never have developed any other way. And that Sawyer and his story have touched more hearts and opened more doors for the Gospel to go forth than we will ever know.
I didn’t remind Sawyer the significance of this date today. As he has gotten a little older, his emotions have gotten bigger, and I can tell he’s starting to wrestle through some feelings he can’t fully understand. He asks more questions about cancer. About death. I don’t want to stir anything up unnecessarily. He didn’t even notice that I stared at him a little more today, hugged him a little tighter and a little longer, or that I left my sunglasses on even when it wasn’t bright.
I am thankful and I am broken. I am strong. And I am so, so tired of being strong.
Today at church, I wrapped my arms around Sawyer (probably a little too tight) as he stood in front of me during worship. I could feel his little chest rise and fall, and the vibration of each word as he sang from a pure and innocent heart, “I love You Lord for Your mercy never fails me. All my days, I’ve been held in Your hands. From the moment that I wake up, until I lay my head, I will sing of the goodness of God.”
And I know he really means it. And so do I. God really is good, all the time. Even when we don’t understand.
I pray I will one day be free of all fear and dread. That one day I will stop holding my breath. That I will allow myself to imagine Sawyer growing up to be a man. And I pray that I will not transfer any of my burdens onto my beautiful son; that my hangups will never hold him back from all the Lord has for his life.
I look forward to the day when Jesus will wipe away every tear, and no child will ever again be diagnosed with or lost to cancer.
Thanks for giving thanks with me.
“Immediately the father of the child cried out and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”” (Mark 9:24)
“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”” (Psalms 77:11-12)
“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” And he worshiped the Lord there.” (1 Samuel 1:27-28)
Sundaygratitude 