It’s been over four years since Jonathan had his last dose of chemo and to look at the kid, you’d never know he had been sick. He no longer defines himself by his cancer. When we talk about his times in the hospital, I realize more and more that it is my memory that is fueling his. He will turn 13 this year and the only thing he loves more than being with people is fishing with people. He is equally at home with adults, peers, and little kids.
Moms have better memories for this sort of thing, I think. At least this one does. “Your son has cancer.” Those four words have power to do incredible things. The reality behind them changed me in ways that I still struggle with. Jonathan was recently hospitalized with pneumonia. While we were there, I had ample time to reflect on Jonathan and the history of his illness. I realized that I am very quick to define myself as “the Cancer Mom.” I don’t feel bad about this tendency; I think it is a normal reaction to that very stressful period of in our family’s history.
As I looked at his blood tests and saw how elevated his white blood counts were, I started to panic. Yvonne, one of our dear nurses, saw the fear in my face and came over to explain. She showed me what was excellent in his lab report and helped me to see that his body was having a normal reaction to the infection. His body was doing its job. Several hours later as I helped Jonathan try to stop a bloody nose I remembered her words and realized that there has been a subtle shift. It was just last year that I cancelled a trip because Jonathan had a bloody nose and I wanted to rush him to the doctor to check his platelets. This time, in the hospital, I didn’t have that same rush of fear. The reality was that the room was dry and Jonathan was sick. Yvonne’s words came back to me – “This is just pneumonia, not matter what your body responses might be telling you. I know you are scared, but we are here to help you.”
As I thought about this, I realized the same is true with my relationship with God. I have my own sinful past that can trigger a shame spiral as the memory of my sin attempts to convince me that I am completely unlovable. But the reality is that I am chosen by God, holy and beloved (Col 3:12). The more I can live out of this truth, the more I am able to do the things listed in Col 3:13-17 – showing compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. I am able to forgive and I am able to love. But first, I must live in the truth that I am holy and dearly loved. This is the truth about me. And some days, just like I need reminders from nurses that Jonathan’s blood tests look good, I need reminders from my community just how much God loves me. I simply cannot remember on my own how loved I am.
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