I’ve found myself this week in a bit of a holding pattern. As everyone has been declaring their 2023 New Year’s words and resolutions, I’ve felt quiet. Not quick or sure what to say. In fact, not eager to declare or proclaim anything much at all.
After contemplating my strange hesitation all day today I’m pretty sure the reason is that, without even realizing it, I’m waiting for tomorrow. Tomorrow I have another set of scans scheduled. Tomorrow we will measure changes against my previous PET scan last fall. This is definitely not my favorite kind of week.
And it is this worry-ridden pattern that I’m finding myself all tangled up in—Declare nothing until I have some updated information. No resolutions without first some results. Zero January commitments without a concrete picture of what is currently happening inside my body.
As soon as this bit of self-understanding began to unveil itself today, I knew it was time to give my own shoulders a good shaking. This is not how it is supposed to work. I don’t want to be living in 3 month increments from scan to scan. I have never lived like this, why do I believe I should be doing so now? Everything dependent on the next scan’s results. No. No. No.
It’s true, I don’t know the future. I don’t know what these results will be and I don’t know what this year will bring. That is definitely a more pronounced way of thinking these days. But did I really have any guarantees in all of the other Januarys of my 54 years? No. I just thought I did.
But this year has been different. If I’m honest I’ll tell you that it was kind of a rough weekend and I really wasn’t prepared for it to be so. I didn’t see the attack coming. I’ve always loved the New Year. Always loved to celebrate and anticipate and participate. I’ve always welcomed it with wide open arms and heartfelt expectation. Always. Except this year the New Year’s Eve party felt painful.
The new year didn’t feel happy, it felt scary. I'm sure that’s true not just for me, but for others out there as well--your own diagnoses, broken relationships, shattered lives, rebellious children, lost jobs, missed loved ones, dashed dreams, and failed plans.
When you’re not feeling whole, holidays can feel pretty lousy. I’m learning a little more about that these days. All weekend I was seeing and hearing those little New Year’s slogans like, “Cheers to the New Year!” and “The best is yet to come!” And though I tried to rally, I found myself only wanting to run fast from the phrases.
Because what if it’s not? What if my best years are already behind me? What if. What if. What if. I know what my diagnosis says these years ahead can be, and so why would I ever want to usher them in? Why welcome something so unwanted? What exactly is the future when you are feeling unbelievably fragile?
Now, I realize that last paragraph is fraught with some pretty miserable stuff. Maybe I should have started this post with some kind of disclaimer. But I think it’s possibly important to be aware that not everyone feels like champagne bubbles and fireworks when occasions call for them. I had a little taste of that this year. It was hard to swallow.
But, you know what’s amazing? Even in these really raw feelings and vulnerable moments, God continues to show up. He continues to show Himself in a myriad of ways. He continues to use others to speak to me. He continues to remind me of His faithfulness and His power and His mercy and, mostly, of His great love.
Just yesterday when I was sharing some of my feelings with my oldest daughter, Emily, she ministered to me. I told her how hard that phrase “the best is yet to come” has been for me to hear. She stopped me and said, “Mom, but YOU KNOW the best IS yet to come. We will someday be with Jesus in heaven and THAT is the best to come.” And she is so right. So right. So wise. So spot on. It was like a switch flipped and my darkness literally lifted. What inexpressible joy to have your child remind you that the best years will be our years with Jesus. Honestly, does anything else even matter in the context of eternity?
I know some of you, on occasion, find little scraps of encouragement in my words. I’m so glad you tell me that. But I want you to know, it’s hard. I’m in the hard. I’m in a fight. A battle. Every day. Every single day. So much of it right now is mental and fear related. And though God keeps showing Himself to me, I still have some really weak and scary days. I won’t ever lie to you about that. I won’t ever pretend it’s all easy just because I’m a Christ follower. Being a Christian means I have great hope in life, but it doesn’t mean life will be easy. I am learning every day what it means to trust Jesus with the good and with the hard.
And so tonight as I prepare to think about yet another PET Scan tomorrow, I want to boldly share with you my resolution for 2023 —
To trust Jesus more.
That’s it. Nothing fancy. Nothing elaborate. Just more trust. I’m not asking to better understand his plan for me. I’m not asking for more clarity. I’m not asking for more certainty. I’m just asking for more TRUST.
Trust. Yes, I guess that’s also going to settle the question of my word for 2023 --- Trust.
“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him.” Psalm 28:7
“And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you.” Psalm 9:10
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make straight your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6
