Cindy Jolly is the final classmate of mine from Write Brilliant Academy to guest post for our #thankfultoday series. After teaching elementary school for 30 years, her husband begged her to retire – so she did, and is thrilled to no longer be bolting out the door in the dark! She loves to try new recipes, sew when she’s in the mood, and feed her new obsession with Masterpiece Theater. She is married to her best friend. They have 2 beautiful daughters, 2 wonderful sons-in-law, 4 grandchildren, and another on the way. She’s very new to blogging, but what a lot of fun! You can find her at cindyjolly.com! I am confidant her post will encourage your heart.
Today I am thankful for brain cancer. Okay, not the cancer itself – I hate brain cancer, but for the way the Lord has used my husband’s brain cancer to wake me, shake me, and help me step into the picture painted in Romans 12:2 (TLB).
“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world . . .”
We knew something was up. There were all sorts of signs. But an inoperable tumor on the brain stem? Who expects that?
In the face of a scary diagnosis, the world says, “Fall apart, lose hope, look for truth on the internet, and wring your hands as hard as you can.”
By the manner in which the ER doctor closed the door and rolled his stool close to give us the grave news, I got the feeling he assumed this is how we might behave.
“but be a new and different person with a fresh newness in all you do and think . . .”
You know those coin-operated binoculars like the ones at the top of the Empire State Building? Drop a quarter in and see the world up close.
Only it’s not quite that easy. It seems to take a lot of swiveling the darn thing up and down and back and forth just to land on the sight I’m supposed to be seeing. And then there are adjustment issues – lots of dial spinning until the picture is clear.
It felt a little like that as I prayed in the ER and in the days that followed, “Show me what You see, Lord, not what the world sees.”
It was super tough some days. There was a lot of swiveling and dial-spinning. But the sight He wanted me to see began to come into view.
The Bible started reading just a little differently from the perspective of my deep need and fervent prayers for healing. God’s compassionate heart seeped from the pages and flowed into my suffering heart, comforting and assuring my mind and soul that He was meeting me there, no matter how things looked to the world.
Every page began to read, “I’ve got this, Cindy. And you’ve got Me.”
Then you will learn from your own experience how his ways will really satisfy you.
I don’t love brain cancer, but I do love what the Lord has done with it in my life.
I have been rescued from the path of comfortable and easy. The path of deep and difficult has given me the opportunity to begin learning to operate the binoculars like a pro.
Today I am beholding a clear and up-close view of God’s intimate presence in every detail of my life . . . and I am thankful.