She is the kind of steady that you easily trust. She is kind and she is friendly. She's patient. She is a laugher and a lover. She is stubborn and is feisty if provoked. She loves Jesus and coffee, and few things make her eyes light up like they do when her family comes home. She's the best listener I've ever known and she gives advice that points you towards Jesus.
She's a warm, long hug after a long day and an exclamation of joy when you tell her good news. She'll scratch your back until you fall asleep and she'll cuddle up to you in a heartbeat. She beautiful in a way that few people are, and she's gentle hearted unlike anyone else I've ever seen.
She's my mama. The one that's loved me and prayed over me and worried over me. She drove me miles and miles to make me fall asleep when I was a baby, and she put band-aids on my head (in my hair) because I swore I needed one after lightly bumping my head. She made quilts for my bed and went on every field trip she could. She prayed with me before my first day of middle school and high school, and she has always encouraged me to try new things, but she has also let me fail at things. She's made sure I always knew how proud she is of me and how much she loves me, and no matter what, she points me towards Christ.
And last Tuesday, November 18th, 2014, her doctor told her that she has cancer.
I'm not writing about the details of her cancer (but you can click here to know all about that, too).
I want to write about my mama and Jesus and how beautifully the two of them collide.
Last Tuesday night, after my parents had told my siblings and I the news, everyone came over to our house. Brittany and Bo brought pizza, but no one felt like eating. We stood in the den and held each other and cried and asked why this was happening. Why her? This can't be right. This happens to other people--never your people.
We finally decided that eating would be a good thing to at least attempt, so we held hands and prayed.
My mom prayed.
Tears poured down my cheeks as she prayed for us as a family and for herself. She thanked God for being good all the time and for being an anchor and a shelter. She thanked him because even now, walking through this valley shadowed with uncertainty, pain, anger and shattering sadness, he is with us.
This past week has been hard--a hard that just tosses you around and sits in your bones and closes in on you. From Tuesday to Friday, it was almost impossible to focus on anything for more than a minute. Seriously.
I've spent several nights awake until two or three AM, sobbing and asking Jesus, Why the hell are you doing this to her? To us? To me? I can't watch her be sick. I'm scared to death of what the results are going to say. I'm scared and I don't understand. I. just. don't. understand.
I have screamed and thrown things and I have wondered if I'll ever breathe again or if I'll ever be able to focus long enough to actually do my homework. I have asked God a million and three times how we are going to do this and what his purpose in this is. I have hugged my sweet mama and let my tears run down her shoulder, and I have collapsed onto my floor in a puddle of tears, trembling in fear of all that is coming and all that we simply don't know.
And in the morning he teaches me again, though I thought I already knew: "There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning." (Ps. 30:5b)
Grace like rain.
Oh, the heart wrenching, screaming pain of the night, of the fear; of the unknown.
But the JOY that settles into my soul in the morning when I hear him whisper: Cameron, I walk with you here. I sit with you on the floors at night and catch every one of your tears. I sing over you. I rejoice over you, and oh, I rejoice over your mama. I will walk with you when she's sick from treatment, and I will be the one to mend your heart when it breaks into shards on days when she doesn't have strength or energy to do much. I am here and I too know this pain.
So we take heart, for he has overcome. We stand, palms up, and we are his. Even when we can't breathe and sadness presses on our chests and we wonder why her, we are held and we are loved, and Jesus, he's lifted high.
