These have been heavy days. We did learn that as of Friday the stains from Chris’s biopsy are actually not lost somewhere in the stratosphere, but are finally in the hands of the pathologist here to be read. Still, we won’t be able to see our oncologist until Wednesday. The waiting has become hard. I am reminded by my friend Katherine to wait on the Lord. Even more than we wait on results. Wait and see where the Lord’s eternal reality will intersect with our earthly reality. I have a sense that it’s happening now, but it can be hard to turn our eyes upward and outward to recognize it. The pull to withdraw and turn in to ourselves is strong. This waiting coincides with more fatigue for Chris (is this the result of melancholy or sickness?) and a slow down of the flurry of texts, emails, and drop-ins that come at the onset of bad news. There was a lot of energy at the beginning of this, and that energy is decreasing. I think it propelled us for a bit.
Knowing a valley is ahead is not the same as entering it. Maybe that is where we’ve come. My impulse is to try to distract from where we are. When Chris’s spirit is burdened, I have a moment of panic, until I realize that he is where he is in truth, and I cannot take away his burden. There is only one place for him to go—one person equipped to hold what he carries. And it’s not me. I will be with him, though, in every state. We will continue to sit and pray together and remind each other to wait on the Lord. And, by God’s grace, we will lift up our hearts to him more and more fully. Lord, to whom [else] shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.