our messy middle

I have never been up close to anyone fighting cancer, until now. I would have walked with my grandma through her journey had we been in the States. I was in my upper teens. My mom flew back to be with her twice. My sister and I helped run the house and care for our younger siblings while mom was gone. Friends, extended family, and acquaintances fighting cancer always seem to be far away in other states or dealing with it privately. There's always someone's parent, someone's close family or friend on the church prayer page who is dealing with cancer. 

The "messy middle" is a term I learned only a few years ago. I think it would be safe to say we are now in the messy middle, but everyone's messy is a bit different, wouldn't you agree? 

So what does ours look like now that we have round two of chemotherapy behind us? 

It looks like life is pretty manageable until some physical symptom flares, like cramping in the hands, and my husband can barely pick up his fork or type the next email. It looks like lightheadedness washing over him after getting up, fingers grasping onto something to keep from falling. 

It looks like me sitting at the foot of our bed, rubbing an essential oil blend into his feet on the daily. It looks like the blue "H" sign on the street becoming all too familiar and personal like it never quite was before. It looks like days where fatigue hits hard and instead of lying there half listening to something on his phone, he's just out like a light. It looks like texts and cards coming in from his superiors reminding him to take care of himself and our family. It looks like an understanding of what people go through that we (mostly me!) never noticed or had a chance to see up close. It looks like around thirty pounds less. It looks like us joking about Brian coming out of a concentration camp, while trying not to cry. (At least I know I'm feeding him well!!) 

It also looks like nothing ever happened when dad walks in through the back door, end of day, kids seeing him in uniform, as usual. He's been able to go to work most days, and that alone has been a huge victory, not forced or coerced. 

My husband is young. The infusion center visit reminded us of this fact. He was clearly the youngest patient all day. He entered this chapter of our lives physically fit and strong mentally, spiritually. I hear this combination of youth and strength is the best time to get cancer if you're gonna get cancer! He did not have any glaring habits to quit in order to heal. Maybe these are all reasons why our messy middle isn't as messy as expected. 

You may think you'd never be able to handle something really bad happening, but then it happens, you know God allowed it, and life goes on. It's not always humanly possible to sing and give thanks in the unwanted circumstances, but then you read how it's still a good thing to do just that. 

"It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High: To shew forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and they faithfulness every night.” Psalm 92:1-2