As the roller coaster health ride continues merrily on, schedules and feelings have been all over the place in the last few days. Thursday the clinic in Sioux Falls called me with the news that they had finally been able to reach the pharmacy that would supply the herceptin that I needed. "But there's bad news," the clinic told me. That pharmacy had to have a certain license in order to dispense it to this particular clinic. Paperwork has begun on the process of getting the license, but it will probably take weeks. And I needed the herceptin this coming week. I would have to fly to Arizona again!
I had just been noticing that I was beginning to feel a happiness again that I hadn't felt in a very long time as I was settling into our home, looking forward to going with the family to Rapid City to the SIM Christmas staff meeting, and going ahead of time to the Black Hills for real Christmas trees for us and staff. The plan had been to next week spend a day or two at the clinic in Sioux Falls and in between get to see the Christmas lights at the Falls Park. I was looking forward to watching Hannah decorate the Christmas tree and spruce up our house (no pun intended) for Christmas. Funny what small things can suddenly seem so happy after months at an Arizona clinic!
Instead, I'm asking Jonathan about a ticket to Arizona, contacting Ken and Pauline Ganger (friends who recently arrived in Mesa for the winter) about picking me up at the Mesa airport, and in less than 24 hours, I'm in Arizona, under the roaring jets of Phoenix, watching my phone for pictures from all the happy doings in South Dakota--
the successful cutting of four spruces in the Black Hills for SIM staff and several hours of ice skating fun our children had with the staff children at a rink in Rapid City. The good news is that we had been already planning the Rapid City trip, so the new plan to drop me at the airport involved zero extra miles. The tickets to and from AZ were reasonable.
But for a little while Thursday, I was so crushed with disappointment that all I could do was turn to Jesus. Conflicting voices and words kept coming to my mind.
"You are not allowed to be happy."
"That's a lie."
"Why should you be feeling this crushed when it's just about Christmas lights and fun times? Think of all the invalids suffering with constant pain and Christians in prison!"
None of these thoughts were all that helpful, although the last thought helped me with perspective.
Just turning to Jesus was what helped the most.
And just starting to make alternate plans. And being hugged by Jonathan.
And letting go--again--of little earthly happinesses that I had thought
I would have. And starting to look for little happinesses in different
places--even in Arizona where I really did NOT want to be during
Christmas season.
If I have learned not to ever get too terribly excited about some joy I hope to have, or not to set my heart on some earthly delight, I have also learned that when we must give up one happiness, we are often given another--just a different kind of delightful something.
"That Thou givest them they gather," I read this morning. "Thou openest Thine hand, they are filled with good."
So I don't have to molly grub at all. Just take my bitter disappointments, however small, to Jesus and ask Him to show me where to find a different happiness.
Or where He wants me to reach out to someone in the middle of my misery--might it be the poor old man who tottered off ahead of me in the airport, not having the least idea how to get to the next step or security--and then I get dropped smack dab between a cowboy-hatted goateed middle-aged man and this very tottery old man on the airplane where I make friendly conversation and talk about the Lord's help in my cancer journey? Does God just want me to remember that disappointments are a gate to remembering that He is our joy--to spend my emotions and time worshipping Him instead of just drinking in the beauty of the Black Hills and spruce trees and cheerful Christmas lights?
"My meditation of Him shall be sweet; I will be glad in the Lord."
Today--I am glad in the Lord.
And I worship Him.
If we could all see our disappointments from God's perspective our lives would be so different. For years I had a poem on my mirror that talked about the "blessings of interruptions." It was especially encouraging when I had small children and my days didn't go as planned, but even now the interruptions and change of plans can still be a gift from the Father.
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