I wrote back in early February how Jesus whispered words to my heart after a particularly difficult weekend. Here are just a few of those words.
I know you are frustrated and scared.
I know this weekend brought up hurts you thought had finished hurting.
I also know it brought up much fear, because it loosed up hazy
realizations of memories you don't want to remember,
things you don't want to know.
You are so afraid of finding out what has been hiding behind that door
with all its scratching noises, but I am bigger than that door, baby,
and anything that lies behind it.
That door had been jarred open that weekend and scared is where I was. I went on later to write how God was revealing more of what lay behind that door to me in dreams. That door and all that lay behind it left me in a state of emotional turmoil. I never knew when I would slip from present day into the emotions of the girl who was trapped in time behind that door with the memories. I could be washing dishes as an adult in the now and turn and be child sobbing, scared, and hurting.
It was during this time that I discovered I had thyroid cancer.
I was never scared of the physical cancer. ( I have always been scared of the emotional "cancer" that lurks behind that damned door.)
The testing for the cancer, surprisingly to me, brought out more of what hid behind that door and that completely terrified me.
As I laid on the exam table during a biopsy of lymph nodes in my central neck my throat was being pressed on and suddenly I was in two places at once. My body was surrounded by doctors but my mind was in a dark room, a man's hands around my throat, I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness in the world my mind inhabited. I was panicking. All I could do was desperately pray for Jesus to save me from my mind and the memory that had slipped out from behind that door.
I wanted to sob, ask the doctor to stop and curl myself into a huddled ball, but I knew that I couldn't do that. I held myself together as my breath quickened and my lip quivered. After enduring an hour of being both here and there it was over.
I spent the weeks between that procedure and my surgery praying that God would use my time in surgery to minister to me. I would be a captive audience with no distractions. I prayed over and over that He would walk me through the memories during that time. Scientifically, I am sure that sounds implausible, but
my heart doesn't operate in the scientific it operates in the supernatural.
When people would ask me how I felt about the surgery and the cancer I would answer them honestly and say I was just ready to get on with it. The cancer was no big deal compared to what lay behind that door and I was very worried about surgery opening that door even further. I didn't tell them that part though.
I just prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed. "God, please, just show me what I need to know while I am under. I know I will be unconscious, but please just tell me what I need to know. Walk me through it, I don't care if it sounds dumb, just do it. Please!"
Surgery day came. I went into the operating room and thought, "Okay God, you're up." as they moved me from one bed to the other and I slipped into the anesthesia, or rather it slipped into me.
(to be cont.)