Cancer and Comparison--When the Waves Roll

 It's almost 11:30 at night, and I am up licking spoonfuls of delightfully silky homemade yogurt. This is in contrast to how I felt an hour ago in bed. Perfectly awful and weak, I was feeling grouchy and bothered, comparing my cancer to other people's cancer (or lack of cancer, bless their healthy buttons). It seems quite unfair that this person or that one doesn't have cancer and I do, or that this or that person's cancer responded well to natural or less invasive treatments than mine. They must be more faultless and worthy than I am. Perhaps I'm being punished for being an awful person. 

I had to catch myself. 

This was not good, this momentary comparison, this feeling unhappy and bothered about my lot. I had to catch myself, but I also had to not just condemn myself, because the last thing a person needs who is already feeling awful is to have to feel even worse because of something that came into their mind and made them feel unholy!

I had to turn to the Lord as waves of emotion washed over me, waves that I had to try to stop because if I let them go too far, I'll get a severe headache and my kidneys will scream like our guinea hens (and you should hear our guinea hens!)

 I remembered that even if I felt absolutely, unbearably awful, I had a comfortable bed. Millions of women tonight have no such bed. I am going to sleep beside a supportive and loving husband--and others sleep alone, some full of bitterness and hatred and unforgiveness while I have the joy of forgiving and loving an imperfect but perfect-for-me husband. I hope to sleep after a while, and others can't sleep for the barrage of missiles and warning sirens in their cities. I am prostrated with chemo weakness, but there are those who are in indescribable pain from injuries on front lines or from religious persecution or from other diseases or injuries. 

An hour ago my emotions were unusually every which way, which is especially difficult to manage. My husband probably thinks having them every which way is perfectly normal, but I know better. This post chemo emotional stuff is worse than usual--and I have to bring that under control--not an easy task without the Lord's help.

If the waves must roll, may they bring me seashells of goodness and mercy. If I must compare, let me compare my blessings and my joys. 

And so, the silky white yogurt is long down my gizzard, the clock is ticking nervously close toward midnight, and I need to go get my hot feet back into my cool bed and hope I can sleep--

because no matter how I feel, how my emotions convolute, and how the waves roll, 

God is watching over me, He isn't going to fail me, and there's no comparison to His care!