Keeping me. Part 2

It's hard to imagine being able to create an accurate word picture for the piece of the hell that cancer brought into our lives. I guess that probably makes sense. We each have experiences in life that no one else can completely understand. But for the purpose of this narrative, here are a few descriptive words: intensity and depth of despair, terror, emptiness, brokenness, and utter helplessness that wove themselves into our lives for an extended period of time.

There were so many days I would wake up and not know how I was going to do the day. I mean really, truly not able to comprehend how I was going to live through it. Jaret was home with me for months, living my suffering along side me and being both mom and dad to our kids. I did not clean my house, get groceries, or cook almost anything for a year. And it was very hit and miss for a year or two after that.

My refrain became, "Jesus, You've got to keep me." When I started going to the grocery store again, "Jesus, I'm trusting You to keep me." When I drove to the post office and my sister's house for the first time. "Jesus, I can't do this without you. I am completely at Your mercy. I'm trusting you to keep me." I felt so unlike myself. So weird. So out of it. So sick. We keep knives on a magnetic strip on our wall. The sight of those knives brought terror to my heart many times. Would I lose it and end it all? “Jesus, you've got to keep me." On days when I felt so dark, "Jesus, I'm trusting You. You've got to keep me." Day after day after day. Hour after hour.

There was nothing that felt sweet or beautiful or warm and fuzzy about any of it. It was desperation and absolute dependence born out of a recognition of my total inability. And it lasted so long. It wasn't a couple days or weeks or even months. It was years. Day after day after day in that place.