answers

I do quite like a puzzle…but I don’t think I always have. I found them boring, or daunting, or both… but in the last few years they have become quite a relaxing, and honestly, prayerful, experience for me. It’s a lovely mix of focused effort, but not overly mindful, so that I can work away at achieving something while also letting my mind wander. I spend time sitting at the table, with a thousand pieces scattered out in front of me, and it becomes a space where I can process, cry, pray, think things through, including layers and wonderings that I wouldn’t have even known were there under the surface.

But for sure, one thing I enjoy about puzzles is that at some point they are completed. You take this mess of jumbled pieces and slowly, but surely, reform them into a lovely composed picture. There is a certain delight in the finished result: as task complete, a calm from chaos.

I enjoy answers, or at the very least a plan to get to them. I have shared before that I definitely fall in the camp of wanting to know what’s coming next. I’m not big on surprises of any kind, and prefer to be (over!) prepared rather than caught off guard. I enjoy knowing or figuring out the answer, which, I imagine, is why so much of my own learning and growth has been around how to hold space for questions, how to stand with confidence and grace in the muddled and mixed up spaces of life. Oh Jesus, knowing us so completely :)

We’ve been waiting on some pieces of information and updates from the doctors about treatment, status, next steps. Waiting for specific answers so that we feel equipped to decide about what is best to do next, waiting to know what the summer will look like, what to expect, what to prepare for… you know… all those things that I like.

But as we’ve been in these weeks of waiting, I have also been reminded gently by the Spirit to not forget the answers that have already come, and also to not miss the ones that are being given. I am sometimes so focussed on one particular answer that I’m waiting for, that I can miss or lose sight of the solid answers that have come or are coming my way.

From the very early days of holding this cancer diagnosis, I have felt God consistently saying that I can trust and rest in his holding and provision. That even though we didn’t know what would happen, or how things would go, that we could know with certainty that he would give us what we need as we go. That when it came to treatment decisions, what to do or not do, how to talk to the kids, what to share or not share, and also our overall well-being and care, that we could rest confidently in the knowledge that God would be with us and for us at every step of the way. That we weren’t going to be alone at any point, and that his leading and care for us would be solid, known, and reliable. This is a good promise, and it’s also a good answer to a lot of big questions. It’s an answer that still holds, with the lingering questions, as well as the new ones that have risen.

But over and over again, those questions can creep up and drown out the beauty of this answer. They take precedence in my mind, demanding more specifics, looking for more detailed explanations, longing for answers that bring a tangible resolution and end to the questions altogether. And oh dear, this is not often how the answers come. This is not always how it goes as we hold our hard and big questions out, hoping for answers, striving with all that we have to bring the picture into view from all the little jigsaw bits.

Sometimes the answers that we get feel like not enough, not what we were hoping for, not what we think we need. And that’s a good honest place to come to with Jesus. Asking him again to be the whole of what we need, asking him to settle our spirits afresh in the solidness of what we do know right in the middle of all that we don’t. Amazingly, I have found that he is enough. In fact, he is more than enough in all the ways.

The last couple of rounds of chemo have been pretty hard. In some ways it was more straightforward, but both the emotional and physical toll had definitely increased since my treatment rhythms in the fall. My body was not able to bounce back the same and I was finding it was taking significantly longer to ‘feel okay’ again after each round of chemo. This also meant a mental and emotional toll, and I was wondering at a few different points if there just weren’t going to be any more ‘good days.’ I was pretty done with it after the second go-around, and thankfully while checking in ahead of round three, my care team agreed that something needed to shift.

And, as it happens, we’re in this space of waiting for answers :) We’re waiting on a few different possibilities in the background, and one of them is a clinical trial out of Princess Margaret Hospital. We’re expecting to hear back soon about whether or not I match the markers to join this trial, which would mean shifting treatments.
So, my oncologist at Credit Valley suggested we defer my chemo for a week to wait and hear back from PM about the trial.

photo credit: Hadija from Unsplash

This was a welcome pause and recovery time for a few more days, and in the that week I did begin to feel better again at last: feeling more like myself, feeling some energy and capacity return. It was lovely, and while I was so thankful for the extra days, it also made me less and less interested in another round of the current chemo and its accompanying days of awfulness.

I was hoping for a longer pause, (or truthfully, to never do chemo again…), and through several different small happenings, I felt God telling me that a pause was a good plan for right now.
As I arrived at the doctor on Monday though, I was second-guessing my decision to ask for a longer break. All the questions, all the unknowns, rearing their heads as I waited, demanding that I keep looking for a more solid and more certain answer to what was in front of me.

So I asked some friends to pray with me, asking God to affirm this was good for now, asking him to help the conversation with the doctor be settled and clear.
And friends, I went in, shared that I was feeling better after the extra week of rest, and before I said anything else, the doctor replied “I think we should just take a pause.”

So, okay… it’s not a huge answer. It does not wrap it all in a neat bow; it is far from a complete puzzle in terms of the big picture.
But this felt like such a grace, such a gift from a good and present God! This was an answer, and I didn’t want to miss it. This was an answer for right now. And it was repeated, assured, confirmed with grace and love from the One who sees me and knows me. I’m so thankful. It’s more than enough.

So we are now gratefully in those days of pause. No treatment for the next few weeks while we wait for holidays and for some of these other small answers to come our way as well.
And hallelujah I am grateful. I am so glad for no chemo right now. I am glad to have some energy to mark the end of school and the start of summer fun with the kids. I’m so thankful that I was feeling well to enjoy celebrating our anniversary and Nathan’s birthday and a summer kickoff morning at our church. These are gifts. This is grace. This is a resounding answer about God’s care and faithfulness.

And it’s true, it’s not an answer that does away with all the questions. In fact, they’re sort of just deferred for a few weeks.

However, however… it is an important reminder for me to not miss and to not forget the answers that are given. To stand firm in the truth of how God will continue to give what’s needed as it’s needed. To rest in the answers of his presence, his love, his provision that holds steady underneath all the remaining unknowns.

What a grace. There is joy in these answers, because of who gives them.
And when we fix our eyes on these answers, in fact, on the One who is the answer, everything else settles.
Suddenly, all the questions quiet down.
The picture of God’s love and goodness comes into view again, and it is a wonder.

Praying you know the solid answer of his love and presence with you, lovely ones, no matter what questions or unknowns you’re holding too.

Thank you for continuing to pray and walk alongside our family in this season.
We are so very grateful to so many.

Laura xo