In the Valley

This has been a very long week. On Monday, my seven year old daughter underwent an MRI with deep sedation to assess the situation in her arm. We already knew there was a tumor, and until it almost doubled in size in two months, the doctor felt pretty confident about his diagnosis of a non-cancerous fibroma. But when he ordered the MRI, only one comment stayed with me: "I want to make sure it's what I think it is." That was a loaded statement. Having a medical background was a definite disadvantage, because I knew all the things it could be, and those possibilities haunted me day and night.

Over the two days that followed with no answers, I never doubted that God was in control. I was fully aware that there was purpose in this situation, whatever the tumor turned out to be. The most difficult struggles produce the biggest spiritual growth, and I knew that, because I have lived it. I knew that God would use this to grow my little girl's faith. But I also knew that children get terrible diseases, and they suffer, and they die. I've seen it happen. Even the possibility of that scenario was so overwhelming that everything else seemed to pause in waiting for that phone call. Just as Olivia stopped walking about five feet short of the MRI table, suddenly and completely immobilized by the fear of an unknown and imminent experience, I, too, seemed unable to move. I couldn't talk about what was happening inside me, and it was driving my husband crazy.

It's been years since I've known such deep silence. I couldn't bear to speak the things that were in my heart. Even though I knew that God would walk us through whatever happened, I really, really, REALLY did not want my daughter to go down some of those roads. It's different to not want suffering for yourself than it is  to not want it for your child, and I couldn't articulate that helplessness. Chris wanted despereately to help me in those dark days of waiting, and  I couldn't seem to let him in.

But I was amazed at how God reached in where no one else had access. Wednesday, after receiving an email from a friend while I was still waiting for the MRI results, I had the overwhelming desire to share my fear. I hadn't spoken of it or even named it. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to type back, "I'm so scared." But I stopped myself. If I was going to share that with anyone, it should be my husband, who had stood patiently at the door of my darkness and called to me. But for some reason, when I picked up my phone to send the message, the words just wouldn't come. Feeling defeated, I left the job I had just finished and headed to pick Olivia up from vacation Bible school.

On the way, I got an unexpected phone call from a brother in Christ, a father figure I've picked up along the way. A word from God was burning in his heart for me. He shared with me that his daughter had nearly died when she was very young, but she had made it. He told me he had peace about Olivia's plight. He said, "I know you're scared to death for her, and you're too afraid to say it out loud. I understand that." He went on to tearfully declare that "you're in a valley right now. But one day, you and your family will be back on the mountain top." And that was all that I needed. In that moment, I knew my God was right there beside me in that valley.

God understood my inability to speak about this place in which I'd found myself.  He'd chosen someone I never would have exepected to reach in and speak the words that would illuminate that dark place for me. I was amazed at His wisdom in choosing His spokesperson that day. Perhaps if my husband had spoken those words, I might not have recognized them as coming from God. Maybe I would have just believed it was Chris' desire for a good outcome speaking and not the Spirit of the Lord.

In any case, God sought me out. He followed me into that dark, lonely place I wouldn't let anyone else into and He spoke His peace over my daughter and me. Romans 8:38-39 has never been so real to me. The New Living Translation says it like this-"And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Nothing that happens in this life can separate me from Him. My fears and worries can't separate me from Him. Disease cannot separate me from Him. Not even my own self imposed isolation can separate me from Him. Even if I close the door to everyone else, He will still care enough to find a way inside. What a comfort! What a relief! What a mighty God we serve!

And just so you know, the MRI results came back that very day. Although it will require surgery, her tumor is, indeed, benign. Praise be to God.

Father, thank You that I can trust Your promise to never leave or forsake me. Even when I can't talk about it. Even when I can't pray about it, You still understand and love me just the same. Thank You for placing people in my life who will love me with Your heart, even when I can't share my heart with them.

In Jesus mighty love,

Amy

copyright 2010, Amy Wallace