I seem to be writing mostly poems at the moment and today is no exception as I've been inspired by an old blog post about spying my first snowdrop. I miss the snowdrops from the old garden, there are some bulbs planted here but as I put them in quite late in the year I'm still waiting and hoping they will appear at just the right time when I'm feeling low and in need of some cheer. This time of year is bittersweet, in many ways winter is only just beginning, January and February can be so cold and relentless. However we've also just turned over a calendar for a new year, full of fresh possibilities. Happy New Chapter... Winter Snowdrop
How can I forget? Today a year ago I was “officially”
diagnosed with bowel cancer.
I say “officially” because one of my GPs had already spilled
the beans when I wasn’t feeling well as he could see the scan results and knew
exactly what was causing my intermittent stomach upsets.
But the fifth of November was the day it all became REAL.
“We need to operate as soon as possible.” Said the consultant.
Petrified of any kind of operation I blurted out, “But I’m
moving later this month.”
“What’s more important, moving or your health?”
Well I could have swung for him then.
He took me to another room and showed me the scan photo as
proof that an operation was imperative, not that I have any sort of training to
interpret the grey and black blobs of my internal organs. I gave up biology in
third year preferring chemistry, much more maths involved and pretty coloured reactions
to play with!
The image was bad, on so many levels, and at that point I totally
lost if and got hysterical. My boys had already lost their dad it was
inconceivable that they should lose me too.
The prospect was bleak and I couldn’t compute how I could
both move and have an operation at the same time. I’ve double booked myself
on many occasions and I knew this wasn’t going to work.
Fortunately, I had a friend with me, she took me to a nearby
café, I had a cup of tea and slice of cherry pie while she calmly worked out possible
scenarios for me.
She is very much the planner and as I sat savouring the pie,
squishing whole cherries between my tongue and roof of my mouth, drying my eyes
at the same time, she sorted out how I could rally around my local friends from
church to help out. There must be someone I could stay with in this situation?
Mentally I went through a list of everyone I knew nearby,
very dear friends, with spare rooms who might accommodate me while I recuperated
and regained my strength after a lifesaving operation.
I discounted every one!
Moving nearer my parents was the best thing for my health –
the consultant didn’t have a clue about my personal history, why moving was the
important for my mental well-being and it finally sunk into my friend that
family was the most important part of the equation.
My dad was, and still is, having regular chemo. There was no
way him and mum could keep coming up to see me. They’d already made two trips
in the past month.
On my way home I called in to see a friend who is a retired
GP and told him what the consultant had actually said. He talked things over with
me and agreed I should put the medical stuff on hold until I moved.
When I got home, I rang my own GP surgery. I wanted to speak, not to
the doctor who had originally sent me for tests who was a fairly new addition to
the practice but the one who knew me and the boys and had known Andrew and all
we had been through.
He rang me back and was very honest with me about my chances.
He even came around that evening to see me and give me the strongest hug I have
ever experienced! Subsequently he wrote an amazing letter to my new GP practice,
which the receptionist told me had her in tears!
And so my path was set before me. November was filled with
things to do, excursions and visits to friends that were already planned and a
moving date fixed in stone.
Somehow, I managed every single one before the trauma of having
to be diagnosed all over again before finally ending up with emergency surgery.
I have to thank God for the way things worked out. On paper
it all seemed unlikely and impossible and yet I’m still here a year on to tell
the tale. But I’m crying as I type this, amazed by the miracle of my journey,
from North to South, through cancer diagnosis, lifesaving surgery and beyond.
I’ll always remember that fifth of November, the fireworks,
family and friends.
Pansies in my garden for thoughts and remembrance.
They are also sometimes called heartsease.
Last week I spent a few days away on a New Wine Christian
conference for Women and Leadership. The accommodation was excellent, food
superb; the speakers were challenging and the worship was amazing.
On Friday morning we began our worship time by singing
Give Thanks to the Lord,
our God and King,
His love endures forever…
with the chorus
…Forever God is faithful
forever God is strong,
forever God is with us,
FOREVER
Immediately I was transported back to another moment in time
when I sang those words with gusto.
It was exactly 6 years earlier as I drove to church for one
of our regular community breakfasts. It had been raining a bit but the sun was
trying to shine and as I drove and sang the most beautiful rainbow appeared
directly over the church where I was headed. And I thanked God for all his
promises, his goodness and faithfulness to me. God indeed is VERY GOOD.
Little did I know that 2 days later my husband would die
unexpectedly from a heart attack.
The song we sang next was Everlasting God
Strength will rise as we WAIT upon the Lord…
…You are the Everlasting God
You do not faint
You don’t grow weary
You’re the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like
eagles
I couldn’t believe the song choice, although why should I
have been surprised by God? This was a song we had played at Andrew’s funeral
but it’s been a long while since I have stood and sobbed rather than join in
with the singing. Instead I listened once more to the words of promise, those
comforting words that God is with me all along. That rainbow was a foretaste
of God’s amazing faithfulness as he has provided for my needs and never left me
through these years.
However faithful God is, it is WAIT that has been my word
for this season and it has lasted soooooo long.
While the boys have grown, moved schools, taken exams and in
the case of oldest son even gone off to university I have remained STUCK, still
in the same house, which hasn’t sold. I’ve been frustrated, resigned,
motivated, let down, energised, demoralised and through all the ups and downs I
WAIT for a new season to begin.
A few years ago I was at the New Wine summer gathering and
God gave me a glorious reminder that he was still with me and had many
blessings in store.
I thought my life was about to turn around from that moment
but years later still I WAIT.
So often I have felt that I am on God’s pending pile,
someone He will deal with tomorrow because there are so many other situations
in the world that hold His attention.
Of course God’s not really like that and He has made me
promises that there are blessings to come and so I hold on to them and WAIT a
little longer.
At this conference I shared a room with someone I’d never
met before. When I checked in my room-mate hadn’t arrived but by chance or
God-incidence we happened to be sitting at the same table for dinner.
“Do you need a miracle?” She asked.
“Ummm, I don’t know!” I was hesitant. We all dream of having
our prayers answered but was a “miracle” a bit excessive for my needs.
“Oh well I got this sense earlier in the week that I should
buy a bottle of perfume called MIRACLE for whoever I was sharing a room with.
But if you’re not sure perhaps it is for someone else after all.”
And so we left that conversation there and turned our
attention back to the delicious meal before us.
Later that evening we shared a few stories but I knew I held
back. There was a time when I would have startedby saying I was a widow but I’ve come to a place
where I don’t want my loss to define me, I still wear my wedding ring, although
I went through a phase when I didn’t.I
am learning to tell less of my backstory as new chapters are being written. In
lots of ways I am moving on.
Besides saying “I am a widow” is a real conversation killer
as people struggle to find the words to say back.
However the next day, sometime after our most meaningful
worship time, I found the opportunity to share.
The words and tears came tumbling out. And the real issue at
the moment is not the grief or singleness but our mini mansion of a 7 bedroom
house, in its own grounds set in just the wrong location, an area in the North
East where houses, particularly of this magnitude are just not selling.
This year I have had 2 serious offers on it, I even instructed a solicitor to get the paperwork started and I
dreamed of finally moving and starting a new life somewhere more manageable,
closer to church and my friends.
Both buyers pulled out and I am faced with the prospect of a
future here on my own. One son is already at university, the other has started
A levels, these next two years will fly by and then what do I do?
“You do need a MIRACLE!” Said my room-mate. “I should have
trusted my conviction.”
She produced a beautiful bottle of sweet smelling pink
perfume in a shiny box full of promise.
There was a story to her purchase; running late, she only
just made it to the shops in time with 2 minutes to spare but there was the
perfume on display in front of her.
MIRACLES are meant to be, divinely ordained to happen at
just the right time.
And I know for sure my MIRACLE is on its way, too many
things are pointing in the same direction and some things I can’t share here
and now but one day I will…there is so much more to this story and that's just the bits I know about, God's overview of proceedings is like a rainbow encircling the whole.
And just to make sure I don’t forget, guess which song is
currently getting a lot of airplay on the radio with a brand new version by
Simple Minds and KT Tunstall…
Yes God I am listening, still waiting for now, but I have a
lot more hope in my heart that this season is almost over and the fragrance of
MIRACLE will one day fill the air.
( I have scattered old blog posts throughout this and here is one final thought on fragrance - a short story called The Musings of Martha.)
