Several years ago, while reflecting on my cancer journey from 1991-92, I wrote a song. When I write, sing, play my guitar, I truly feel God's presence. I believe His Spirit fuels the flame of inspiration. Inspiration is a gift! James 1:17 says, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows."
The beauty and wonder of His divine presence illuminates the holy and supernatural in what may otherwise seem mundane, "normal" or ordinary. To me, nothing is ordinary. It's our vision that imposes limits on the extraordinary.
That song, written in the early 2000's, was sung at cancer walks, cancer survivor events, church functions and even for personal reflection. When I was diagnosed with my second primary cancer in February of this year I turned to that song and could not. recall. a. single. word. I had the tune in my mind, remembered the chords for guitar but could not pull the lyrics for anything.
I frantically rifled through all handwritten songs, notebooks, and journals looking for it. Nothing. I searched all Word documents, folders and files to no avail. That song was gone.
Apparently, I had trusted the song to be so engrained, so much a part of me that it did not need to be written down. It was drawn from such a deep and important time in my life, how could I forget it? I can't explain how upsetting the loss of those words was to me. I was soul sick, and almost physically sick over it.
"Pray about it," my mom instructed when I relayed my frustration and sadness. This being a standard response to questions posed and problems presented, I will admit I did not immediately heed the advice. However, a few weeks later I did pray. I prayed just a few weeks before losing/misplacing an important ring.
I prayed, "God, that song was a gift from You the first time. I'm asking, please, return the gift to me in the perfect time, in the perfect way." Then, I had to let it go. And I did.
Weeks later when I thought I had lost the afore mentioned ring that a family member had given me and again felt that wrench in my stomach. I prayed a similar prayer then, "God, if the ring is meant to be restored to me, please bring it about." It was nearly a week later and the ring was found in a bag that had been unpacked from a recent overnight trip!
The finding of the ring reminded me of the song and I prayed again for it to be returned to me. Then yesterday I received a call, THE call from my surgeons office to schedule my surgery. I'd been humming the tune of my song all day in hopes of shaking loose the memory of it's words.
My surgeons have been waiting for me to decide on a date for surgery. They had put me on their calendar with a question mark for September 14th. This date is not ideal as one of my cousins is getting married in northern Michigan on Saturday the 19th. If I have surgery that Monday I will require support and assistance with all ADL's (activities of daily living) for at least the first couple of weeks. I'll be back and forth to doctor's appointments as well during that time and will need the extra help for the fellas.
While I am most thankful to have Pete, a supportive husband with vacation days and an understanding superior and Cindy, a soul sister with a flexible schedule and the willingness to help whenever it's needed, I am sad that I will be missing the wedding and a virtual mini family reunion. It also puts my family in a pickle-feeling torn between being present for me or being present at the wedding. Just not an ideal time.
When in the conversation with the surgeons office it became apparent that the surgery would need to be on September 14th or else the unforeseeable future, I ripped the proverbial bandaid off and confirmed for the 14th. Emotionally I just need the deed done. The wait is excruciating. Having an actual date is nerve racking, nonetheless: Monday, September 14th.
My boys and I had been playing at the park with friends when the call came. I felt physically weak after making the decision to schedule the surgery and was thankful it was time to go soon after hanging up. I continued to hum my tune as the boys raced back to the van and all piled in, buckled in and yelled their music requests.
I continued to hum, and as if by some miracle words flooded into my mind. I had prayed for the gift to be restored at the perfect time. Some, not all, of the song was returned to me that afternoon. I sung the words of the bridge and the chorus as if they were never lost, they come forward as smoothly and confidently as ever:
And in my darkest hour You came, bringing strength to my weakness
In the midst of all my pain, You held me up within your hand where I sing
Faithful, You are faithful
Loving, You are so loving
Precious, You are precious, Lord, to me
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