Every Possible Good Thing

There is no way, no collection of words, or any way to order the paltry lexicon I have, to say how huge is my relief and joy to be told today that the tiny cyst in my pancreas amounts to nothing serious, that such a thing is seen more often now because imaging is so much better. I have no other bodily issues and will not need to see my oncologist until May. I will sleep easily tonight, free of worry, content that I have done all that is available to do, and have succeeded at all the effort offered me. I remain hugely impressed with my whole Cleveland Clinic team, whether at main campus or Moll Center or wherever. Mine has been exemplary care, always guided by the Heavenly Hand on which I rely. At every point the way was made clear and my role in it was clearly defined. I regret that I doubt my own intelligence, forget the many things I have learned, or I would have recalled that simple fact of improved imagery showing us things we couldn't see before. Scripture instructs me not to lean on my own understanding, but that doesn't mean to shut my brain down. If I felt less threatened, I'd think more clearly. And worry less. The God in Whom I so heartily believe is and has been so constant, so present and so in charge of my life and I am happy to witness that testimony to His greatness and His ever present love for me. That's right. That same God who holds the universe in place, who is the Author of everything, that God in Holy Spirit form, sat in the chemo chair with me, extended His arm along with mine, to bare a vein for the toxin that would kill to heal. I did none of it alone, but knew and felt His presence, just as today He came with me to hear what I was so afraid would be bad. And when I felt shame for lack of faith, He comforted me like a two year old child, and did not admonish, but encouraged me. He does not hold my little human failures against me. He has always held me close on His lap, rocked me in His arms, whispered in my ear of His loving care for me.