April 10th is my parents wedding anniversary.
It is also the anniversary of the Captain's first brain surgery.
5 years ago today was Good Friday.... and a day that started off very early and in a waiting room.
It started off here, with the tumor.
and then many posts that follow documenting his recovery from what we would, many years later, come to call "his first brain surgery"
Weird and awful that someone would have one... let alone two.
It's interesting. Just this past weekend marked the anniversary of Andy's first seizure... and almost the exact date (give or take a few hours) the Captain had another one. Early Saturday morning the bed shook again and I rushed for the lights... by the time I flipped them on it was over. Andy was disoriented for a long time afterward. It took over forty minutes for him to tell me his name, my name and what year it was. it was a very long forty minutes.
After I monitored him for a while longer, I let him sleep. I, however, did not. I was too amped up. I was trying not to worry, trying not to cry, trying hard to see what God was doing with all this. Because, to be quite frank... sometimes I look at all this cancer and drugs and fatigue and single parenting and I just see a mess.
and not a beautiful mess that is all the rage to call your crazy, hectic yet very fulfilling and enjoyable life...
but a messy-mess that is ugly and hard.
As I sat there in the dark, staring at Andy and letting my mind wander over all these things, I thought of the first seizure...
the one almost 5 years ago to that moment... and how I always, always, inevitably link it to Easter. Because his surgery was on Good Friday, because Easter morning I spent by his hospital bed reading all four gospel recordings of Christ's resurrection... because I remember how I felt in that moment. That realization that sweeps over each Believer as we read about Jesus' death and the conquering of it... complete awe and befuddlement that He did it for me.
I remember that feeling. I remember being swept up in it. I remember looking over at Andy, asleep with his head bandaged up so he looked like a mushroom from Super Mario Bros, and thinking... If God loved me enough to die in my place... I can live this life, this hard uncertain life and future the best I can, to point others to Him.
I meant it in that moment.
Most days I still want to do just that...
many days I fail.
But in the dark, watching Andy's chest rise and fall I remembered.
I remembered Easter and the incredible Hope that it brings.
In the dark that morning I felt the heaviness, weariness and loneliness that comes with this sort of trial. But as God brought to mind the Captain's first seizure and first surgery I was reminded of Hope. The Hope of Heaven that is mine to gain because of Jesus and the cross.
I sat there for awhile after that praying. Thanking God for His faithfulness. Thanking Him for the things He has taught me, the things He graciously teaches me again and again when I forget to remember. I prayed for my perspective and focus, I prayed for God's will to prevail. I thanked God over and over and over again for Andy's salvation, for mine... and for the assurance and peace that it brings to my heart. I asked for rest, not just sleep... but rest, because I am a bit worn thin these days.
But I always returned to thanking Him for the knowledge that whatever happens, with Andy, with me... we are saved.
And after a long while, I felt calmer.
I would be lying if I did not/ am not concerned at all for what our next MRI might show... But remembering God's faithfulness and His work and the Hope He promises gave me courage. And I slept.
For a half hour before Ryder was up with the sun.
It was a loooong day after that.
I think there is a gift in how Andy's first surgery reminds me of Easter and how his second will always remind me of Thanksgiving.
This brain cancer is hard...but I have Hope and I am to give thanks.
Sometimes I look around and I have no clue what God is doing.
But I know who He is.
He is my Savior who Brings the Hope of Heaven.
Happy April 10th.
He is risen!