There's a change that happens deep within you when you're suddenly faced with a life-or-death situation and have no control over the outcome. It's ironic really, but it's true that things bother you less acutely than they did before. Isaac's cold, our cancelled lease (and you wouldn't believe how aggressively these people are digging their heels in and refusing to pay a dime, despite our right to sue them for $20,000), rapidly diminishing savings, exhaustion, rush hour freeway traffic, uncertainty, all of it somehow seems... manageable. Just a little over a month ago, any ONE of those things would've driven me bonkers on its own and cost me hours of sleep. I'm finding that it's true that you a) never know how much you can handle until it all befalls you at once, and b) you can handle more than you think you can. So thank you all for your prayers; I know I'm only keeping my head above the waves with some heavenly help.
The other thing I want to touch on this morning is suffering. I think it goes without saying that most of us would rather not suffer at all. Not even the most puritanical, Bible-touting folks with intimate scriptural knowledge would say 'heck yeah, sign me up for a serious and sustained emotional beating!' We all choose away from suffering and pain when we have the option; I doubt anyone would deliberately choose to have cancer or to go through a cancer journey with a much-beloved child as we are right now. But the reality is that in a way, those brutal, unimaginably painful times bring out the best in us. They force us to return to our roots, to find out who our true friends are (and my gracious, am I ever finding out that I've gathered a lot of you in my 32 years!) and to seek, seek, seek. You must wrestle with yourself, God and your emotions and figure out what drives you, what makes you happy, what makes you sad, and what you really and truly believe about life and its greater meaning.
And I can tell you right now, from where I stand in the midst of the biggest, most intense and most painful storm of my lifetime, that I know what I believe. Do you?