It's 9:34pm on Friday, November 6th. My dad is deer hunting. I am home with my mom in the Twin Cities. We took my four-year-old nephew, Hudson overnight. I just crawled into bed next to my mom sleeping, CNN on mute on the TV with continuous election coverage.
Hillsong Worship's Broken Vessels (Amazing Grace) plays in my Beats solo headphones.
I encourage you, if you need a song to listen to while you're reading... I will link that song as well as the playlist "gimme hope" that has been on repeat in my ears the past month.
Now that I've painted the picture of where I sit and where I am physically, let me pour out my heart for a second or two...
I sit here with God, tears in my eyes and my heart heavy. As many of you probably know, my mom, Julie Marie Hinseth was diagnosed with grade four glioblastoma about two weeks ago. One week following surgery that removed a tumor from her brain.
I sit here in a struggle with what life looks like for myself and the rest of my family right now. I sit in a struggle with God.
I've been a Christ-follower since I was seven years old. When I entered my adult-life, the challenges I faced with anxiety and loneliness shaped a very intimate and unique relationship with God. Most of the time, when I am talking with God, I close my eyes and imagine we are sitting next to one another on a beach at sunset. The warm air blowing through my hair. This may be weird. But it is one that has never left my mind. My relationship is one where he is my father and my dad sitting right beside me, talking to me, listening to me and just being there with me.
As you can imagine, I have had a lot of moments like this with God over the past week. Most of the time, I am crying into His shoulder asking "why?! why is this happening?"
I'll be honest, I don't get a ton of answers that I am satisfied with. I get "Thy Will Be Done, Kel. You don't know why this is good... but it will be good. It is good."
I've never felt so close to God but so scared of this life on earth before. Daily calls with my mom with questions such as "what did the doctor say?" and "when can they get you in?" and my personal least-favorite... "okay... what comes next?"
What comes next? We know... but we really don't.
We know that what comes next is two months of chemo and radiation. We know that our mom will lose her hair. We know that she doesn't feel good all the time and she won't feel good for a while. We know that holidays will look a little different this year. It will be just the nine of us for a while because of the COVID-19 pandemic. We know that even a sniffle will completely throw Julie's treatment off the rails. I knew this virus was real... unfortunately you don't really know something until it is happening to you.
As much as we know... there are even more things that we do NOT know...
We don't know how long my mom has on this earth. We don't know if the treatment is going to work the way that the doctors are telling us it is going to work. We don't know how long it will take to eradicate the cancer. We don't know if the cancer WILL be eradicated. We don't know how many Christmases we have left together as a family. We don't know what God ultimately has in store with this.
But the most important thing that we DO know is that...
God.
Is.
Good.
I'm really not here to preach. I'm here to remind you of what I have had to remind myself more than ever in my life in the past month.
He is good. All the time.
No, this doesn't feel good in the least. This feels awful. This week was horrible. I was coming to terms with the possibility that I don't have as much time on this earth with my best friend as I may have thought. My mom may not see me get married. My mom may not see me make my big TV debut in the Twin Cities like we've always talked about. My mom may not get to snuggle my kids on this earth.
Those are harsh and very real possibilities. Because at the end of the day, NONE of us know how long we have on this earth. Our days are numbered and we have to make the most of them.
I have been reading Max Lucado's You'll Get Through This. For the second time, actually. Earlier this year, I was struggling hard-core with my anxiety. This time around, it's got a whole new meaning.
I just read the chapter entitled "The Waiting Room" in which Max talks about how painful the waiting can be. Because we're in limbo and we aren't active. We're literally just WAITING.
This earth is the waiting room, friends. This is a key quote for me:
"And you? You aren't in prison, but you may be infertile or inactive or in limbo or in between jobs or in search of health, help, a house, or a spouse. Are you in God's waiting room? If so, here is what you need to know: while you wait, God works." - You'll Get Through This by Max Lucado.
Joseph waited. In Genesis, the story of Joseph shows a guy that was kicked to the curb, sold by his brothers, brought to Egypt, thrown in prison for a crime that he didn't commit. This happened over YEARS. It was YEARS before Joseph was finally released from prison and brought to Pharaoh to interpret his dreams and become his right-hand-man.
Joseph had no idea what was to come while he was sitting in a prison cell. Honestly? I feel like I'm in a prison cell right now. I am trying to remain positive, hopeful, and optimistic. But I feel deathly afraid of what is to come. I was reading Annie F. Down's 100 Days to Brave and blogging about it. I had to stop because I literally did not feel brave anymore. My world was turned on it's head and I did not feel brave in the slightest.
I am trying so hard to be brave right now. I hope I am? I've been pretty honest with myself as of late. I've been honest with others. I've said what is so for myself and said exactly what I needed and what I was feeling. I know God probably looks at this as brave... but again, it doesn't feel brave most of the time. It really just feels like I am just barely getting by.
God guided the words in this post. Everything is from Him. Every. Word.
There are good things that have come from this experience thus far as well. Did you know when you are going through tough times... if you ask people for help, they will help? I literally asked someone to be my friend. I asked my existing friends if they could be there for me in a way that I really need them. I've asked people for prayer for specific things. I never used to do that. I was always a "yeah, it's tough but I'm getting through it so I'm good."
Well when your mom gets cancer, you're not so "good" anymore are ya, Kel?
And I know this is a selfish post. I want my mom to be able to speak and say what is so for herself so her words are coming. But she is doing well. She is recovering from her surgery. She received her plan of treatment today and the doctors are so confident that she can fight this. SHE is so confident that she can fight this. I get my toughness from my mom. My softie-ness comes from my dad.
I hope this post brought you a bit into my world. Into the story that God is writing for me and for my family. God is good, guys. We don't always feel good but He is still so good.
"Just wait Kel... you don't see the whole picture just yet... but you will."