I just feel broken.
So much has happened in the past several months.
Perhaps it is simply the overload of experiences or the effects of the drugs I’ve been prescribed. My thoughts feel jumbled, fractured somehow. And my body has two long, jagged scars that tightly bind my flat chest.
Too, the biopsy results from the surgery were not so great. Despite having finished chemo, two of the six lymph nodes removed were cancerous. There were also pre-cancerous areas in my left breast.
The meds help with the pain somewhat. I can rest, but sleep is often difficult.
I’ve sort of hunkered down and escaped from the joyous social media posts that I find in my online streams. Not that I want to deny others their happiness…it just seems far away at the moment. Cookie recipes and holiday cocktails? My cocktails this year have been more of the chemo variety.
Reading further in The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp, I find:
“Grace waits in broken places. Grace waits at the bottom of things. Grace loves you when you are at your darkest worst, and wraps you in the best light. Grace seeps through the broken places and seeps into the lowest places, a balm for wounds.”
I hold onto this. That and the blessings I find each day, like the pendant my husband gave me that says, “Angels watch over us.” And the kitten sitting beside me purring. The warmth and security of my home, the love of family.
Voskamp goes on to say,
“Grace is grace when it gives us what we’d never ask for but always needed, and moves us to become what we always wanted. But hardly ever the way we wanted.”
I wonder about this last part. Is this time in my life moving me to become someone better? I hope so. Certainly I would never have chosen this, never would have even imagined that I would be in this place, facing a bigger and badder cancer than the first time around. Maybe something good will come of all of this.
The end of this year has brought me to my knees. Part of the lyrics of “O Holy Night” have been running through my mind lately, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…” Perhaps being on my knees is where I need to be right now. In the midst of my brokenness and pain, I am grateful still.
This will be a quiet Christmas for me as I continue to recover from my surgery and prepare for the next phase of treatment. If you are struggling during this holiday season, please know you’re not alone. Let’s walk through this tough time–and seemingly impossible time–together.
Maybe together we’ll find grace to help us through.