Welcome to my Pity Parties

For weeks I've been looking forward to hosting a family newly returned from Niger for dinner last evening. I met them in Africa five years ago, and have so enjoyed keeping up with them through the insightful writing of both the mother and oldest daughter. In fact, it was the oldest daughter who first encouraged Jeremy in his quest for a gap year in Africa. Then yesterday we learned that their baby had a severe respiratory infection, and since I was barely getting over mine with kemo looming today, we felt we had to cancel the date with them. (Jeremy got to spend the evening with them anyway.) I was so disappointed to miss it. Before he left for dinner, Jeremy and I sat down for another voice-guitar-piano jam. Suddenly my voice caught and my eyes filled with tears, realizing it was probably the last time we'd get to do that. As I said, welcome to my pity parties.

I realize I'm still so blessed. So extremely blessed. And it's a great reminder to put my hope and expectations where they're really safe. As I'm reading through the New Testament these days, I keep meeting people who were going through struggles but keeping their joy. For example, the Christians in Colosse were "looking forward to the joys of heaven" (Colossians 1:5). And Paul said to the Thessalonians (in 1:3) that he thought about their "continual anticipation of the return of our Lord Jesus Christ." Isn't that a great hope to brighten the small disappointments of these days?

This was in an e-mail yesterday. "When you are DOWN to nothing, God is UP to something! Faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and receives the impossible.

I appreciate your prayers for our consultation with the doctor at 1:45 Eastern Time this afternoon; we've been asking God to give him wisdom to advise regarding my next treatment. We also need wisdom about all of this. And an accessible vein if I'm to receive kemo by I-V again.

Love,
Carol