“i thank You God for this most amazing . . . ‘

(The following post is not a craft post, but when you have had a day like Jim and I have had, I need to write about it. For background, please see post called “Sometimes a Brick Falls on Your Head.”)

This morning Jim and I sat frozen in terror in the doctor’s office, waiting for the results of his scans. We had walked into the waiting room of the LaGrange Oncology Group at 10:00, with curiosity and apprehension. We got a shock, because  there were two patients waiting: one sat with his head in his hands, in utter despair, and another patient, perhaps forty, had deep lines etched into his face and looked ninety. Let me assure you, you don’t want to be waiting in this office. It was a long wait, and then we were ushered into our doctor’s office and seated. Then we waited for 25 more of the longest minutes of our lives, hand in hand. We prayed and asked God to be with us. Then Dr. Menini came in and went over each result, all negative. The cancer hadn’t spread. While Jim will have to undergo six months of chemotherapy, he has every expectation of being cured. (I am knocking on wood as I write this.) The rest of the visit went by in a blur, and if you have ever had to wait for such results, you can imagine what we were feeling. We were euphoric. And I thought of some lines from an e.e. cummings poem, called “i thank You God for this most amazing day.”

i thank You God for this most amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirit of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes . . . 

We left the doctor’s office and went to Heritage Prairie Farm in Geneva (a post is to come on this), bought honey and went to visit their donkey. This is a day when everything looks like a miracle, including the donkey’s soft furry head and ears.

We are still in shock, and it will take time to absorb everything that has happened in the past month. Also, while Jim has dodged a big bullet, he still faces the chemo and all the difficulties and unknowns that will entail. So he is not out of the woods yet, and I am afraid of being too happy.

Meanwhile, I think of the patient who waited with his head in his hands. The nurse had called his name, and brightly asked how he was. Without answering, he staggered past her through the door. I pray that God will be with him.

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3 thoughts on ““i thank You God for this most amazing . . . ‘

  1. Fran, wonderful, wonderful news!! Don’t be afraid of being happy, just be happy.

    There’s an old hymn based on a verse in Phillipians that includes the line “The peace that passes understanding . . .” Well, you’re in a good place, Fran, and that’s awesome. But when you’ve been at rock bottom and have your heart on God, you know what this means. You are at peace no matter WHAT happens. So, don’t be afraid. Jim will heal, but regardless of circumstances, peace is yours.

    And, hey – the soft furry head and ears of a donkey is DEFINITELY a miracle! Joy!!!!

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