Yesterday, in between my morning concoctions and cancer protocol, I was reading about Abraham.
How he offered up Isaac, his only begotten son. God asked for the very thing He had promised to Abraham, and Abraham did not hold him back. God asked for the dearest thing Abraham had, and Abraham did not hesitate.
What about me?
I wondered what my Isaac was today.
Some days my Isaac might be my dear husband; other days it might be one or more of my children and my dreams for them; other times it might be one of my own dreams.
But today?
Suddenly, I was quite sure what my Isaac was that day.
I had to get up off my chair and go to a quiet place.
With fighting this cancer, there is a part of me that I want to keep.
I do not want to give it away to some cancer laboratory to study while I return home bandaged up and facing weeks or months of healing and rehab and side effects and reconstruction (or no construction).
I want to keep all my body parts. I need them and I want them.
I do not want to just put them on the altar of conventional treatment.
I went to my window yesterday, and a big lump came into my throat.
Whatever happens to me and my cancer, I wanted God to know that every part of my body belongs to Him.
I am willing to surrender my Isaac to God.
Yesterday, I'm not sure I even said so in so many words.
But sometimes, aren't tears sufficient?
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