My first memory of my dad’s mighty hand is his vice-grip holding fast to my toddler fingers as we traversed a parking lot. In between here, around a puddle there, all I could do was follow. I wasn’t tall enough to see clear of the myriad chrome bumpers. My vision was pretty well limited to the gravelly asphalt at my feet. I was old enough to desire to be willful, but not so blockheaded as to attempt escape. I trudged along, one arm raised in surrender.
When I think of the last phrase of Micah 6:8, I think of that chubby little boy. He was incapable of comprehending the immanence of danger, He was unable to see far ahead or to keep track of what was behind. He had his own will, a will to do what he wished, unencumbered by a ‘higher power’s’ decisions. He wanted both hands to be available to touch, poke, scratch, explore and most of all to be his own boss. He wasn’t the boss of anything, though; he was being held.
Every week without a lesser miracle is a week of increasing difficulty for Michelle. Cancer’s impact on a body is somewhat different for everyone who suffers under its ravages. Although Michelle’s specific subtype of cancer is extraordinarily rare, the degradations of its unencumbered presence are familiar enough to those who have likewise suffered or, as I am now, who stand witness. Michelle’s suffering is awful and it will get worse.
I mentioned last week that Michelle lost the ability to use her right arm. In addition to being fairly useless, the arm is almost continually painful. For the first time since this ordeal came to light, she was downcast. She prayed. I prayed. We asked over and again that this added pain and this expanded limitation would be removed from Michelle.
It was not. It remains.
Michelle’s ‘quality of life’ is being smashed bit by bit.
My Dad’s mighty hand still holds tight and firm. I still desire to be ‘boss’ but know all the more that being ‘in control’ is a mirage. I am not helpless, nor am I resigned to accept or even entertain the common pseudo-aphorism, ‘It is what it is.’ I am walking next to my life’s love through the valley of the shadow of death. I am watching her slip away even as she is now, by necessity, constantly near.
I could pout or strike out in anger or go limp or exert all my energy trying to pull away. I will daily choose not to be a blockhead. I will be grateful. I will be hopeful for a lesser miracle. I will continue to be a passionate advocate for the Greater Miracle and long to see its fulfillment.
Yes, I will use my ‘free hand’ to wave to you in love as we see other but I will keep my arm raised in surrender as I learn to walk humbly with our God. After all, I am still held.
*In the 1970s and early 1980s Scripture-to-song was quite popular. I learned Micah 6:8 through the work of Maranatha Music. The words given to God’s prophet thousands of years ago commanded my attention as a young man through this simple melody. The song is ‘dated,’ but I still find it lovely after all these decades and sing it regularly with pleasure.
Thank you Robert. You continue to lead your flock. Your words of grief are an encouragement to finish well. I’m sorry brother.
Their is grief. This is true. There is even more steadfast assurance and deeper understanding of how much we are loved by God and others.
Your hand being held by your earthly father is a beautiful illustration of how we are lovingly cared for by our Abba, Daddy. He sees, He knows, He cares, He guides. He understands, He feels, He weeps with us. I pray you and Michelle will experience unimaginable peace and comfort in your souls in being held by Father.
I hadn’t heard that song for ages. It’s beautiful. Thank you. When I went away to college, God led me to group of students on campus who loved the Lord. One of the most amazing new experiences for me was to hear Scripture sung. I couldn’t get enough of it. And it continues to be life-giving.
Life giving indeed! That is one trend I’d love to see repeated in the modern church. Peace is one thing we do have. Michelle is a peaceful personality and built our home on peace. I’m by nature a bit of a rabble-rouser. One of the many positive impacts of our 41 years is the ability to be at peace. Thanks be to God.
Robert and Michelle,
Our hearts are hurting for you and your whole family. As difficult as it is, we know that God is in control, and He is guiding through all of this. I know your faith is strong, but that does not mean you are free from challenges.
I know you have favorite scriptures, but one that has given me extra strength is Psalm 121. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and words with us. They are strong and uplifting.
Sandy and I will continue to pray for you all and for the Lord to enclose you in His everlasting love. We love you.
Earl Wayne and Sandy
Where my help comes from indeed. Thank you dear friends.
Thank you for your updates weekly about sweet Michelle & this sad journey you & your family are on. We are sorry you are traveling this grief filled road. You are right on with your explanation of grief & the feelings that come with it. Continuing to ask Jesus for a lesser miracle for your precious love. We love you.
There is plenty of grief, that is for sure. I am grateful that the grief bears joy in the end. Thanks be to God in Christ Jesus.
Praying.
Thank you.
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