Statistics show that only 54% of people with stage 3 rectal cancer survive 5 years. That sucks. And honestly, it makes me want to vomit. I don’t usually think about the numbers because they freak me out. And I know the numbers don’t really apply to one person, a person who is young and otherwise healthy. I honestly believe that I am part of the 54%, that God’s plan is for me to live to be old with Mark, to see my girls get married, to rock my grandchildren, to continue to go into the world and love on people because that’s what Jesus would do. But every once in a while, it creeps into my thoughts again. It is overwhelming. I don’t want to die yet. And I panic, wondering…
Have I loved my children enough? Enough so that if I’m not here it will carry them through their life? I hope so. Because I love them so much my heart feels like it will burst inside my chest. I hope they know.
And have I taught them enough? Do they know how good God is? Do they know He will never leave them? Do they know they can trust Him completely, no matter what happens in their life? Even if their mother dies. Do they know?
I had similar thoughts the night before each of them entered kindergarten! Had I prepared them to face the world? Funny how life comes back around. And again as we left the country to be missionaries in Mexico, would my kids be OK? Every time God assured me that I could trust Him to take care of my kids. He reminds me again.
Isaiah 54:13 “All your children will be taught by the Lord, and great will be your children’s peace.”
And, again, I surrender to Your plan. I want to live. I don’t want my children to hurt. But more than anything I want You to do what’s best for them. I want You to do whatever will bring honor and glory to Your name; whatever will accomplish Your purpose in our lives. And I say, “Come Kingdom of God, Be done will of God” in my life, and in the life of my family.