Suffering 1

Over the next few months, I want to explore suffering by looking at scripture and examples of people who served the Lord through suffering, pain, and heart ache. Perhaps you have suffered physically or emotionally and can’t see a reason for what you suffered. I hope that through these accounts and scriptures you will find deeper faith in trusting the Lord. Whether we understand or not, we know the One who does, and He never does anything unless it is for our good. He’s promised that.

So, I thought I would start with my own tale of suffering. Some of you are familiar with my loss. Some of you may not. In 2016 my daughter Amy underwent the removal of a baseball size glioblastoma on Feb. 9. Two weeks later my daughter Kristi was also diagnosed with glioblastoma, smaller but still cancer. Kristi’s was removed in March and needed no further treatment, although the surgery fundamentally changed many things for her. Amy began radiation in April and chemo in June. She continued to have pain in her back which the treatment team attributed to the steroids she was taking. They tried three times to wean her off it, and each time the pain increased tremendously.

In the February surgery the tumor was sent to the lab and was found to contain an anomaly they couldn’t name. It was sent to Mayo Clinic, and they also could not determine what was inside the glioblastoma. In the meantime, we were trying to manage her pain; keep her children carefree as much as possible; and deal emotionally with Kristi’s trauma. Amy continued to insist she was going to beat this cancer. We all watched as she grew deeper in faith and love for Jesus. I felt like she raced past me, and I saw this godliness form inside her that was full and rich.

I also saw her hurt, suffer, struggle to keep her thoughts straight. She began to feel intense back pain and would soak in the tub to relieve some of that pain. Eventually that stopped working. The oncologist postponed her second round of chemo until she could figure out what was happening in Amy’s back.

In July it was determined that Amy had a secondary cancer that had gone into her spine and began destroying her red blood cells by eating her bone marrow. By the time they caught this she was so far gone they couldn’t replace it and couldn’t save her. The cancer that had entered her spine was PNet which is a pediatric cancer generally not seen in adults over 25. Amy was 30 years old. They had never checked for this cancer. It was the anomaly that no one could identify back in February. Had they found it the radiation treatment would have been applied to her back as well and probably saved her.

We were told she was terminal on July 26, 2016 (our 36th wedding anniversary) and Amy passed on August 9, just one day before her thirty-first birthday. It tore me like nothing I’ve ever known before. My daughter, my warrior girl, my brilliant, full-on, full of faith wild one was gone. I couldn’t imagine going on without her. I have never felt a pain that tore deeper. It was physical as much as emotional. I cried out to Jesus. Why? Why her? Yet, I remembered telling my children as they grew that Jesus died on the cross and if he had never rose again it would have been more than we deserved. But he rose again and restored us to the Father. And if that’s all he did, it would have more than we deserved. But he gave us a place as children in the kingdom. And if that’s all he did it would have been more than we deserved. But he poured grace all over us, and mercy, and that was more than we could ask and more than we deserved. So, whatever came our way, whatever trials, or sickness, or loss we suffered in this life, Jesus has already given us more over and over and over again. And, whether we understand or not, we can trust Him.

I remembered this, but I couldn’t hold onto it in all honesty. I remember pulling off the road and sobbing so many times over the first year and a half. Something would sound like high heels on the wood floor and I’d start bawling, nasty, snot dripping, wild eyed bawling because I would never hear her come in through my door again. A song, a poem, her children’s voices in a song she sang to them, a bible verse, almost anything could trigger me. One of the greatest pains I felt was knowing time continued to move forward without my child’s presence. I didn’t want to see 2017. I didn’t want the seasons to change. It was unfair that she was gone.

And then I’d remember telling my kids, that’s just it, our life, our world isn’t fair, it isn’t good either. It’s broken and we get hurt and broken because of sin. That’s why God hates sin. It broke what had been perfect.

Life moved forward. Her kids started school again. Kristi healed, Praise Jesus. I couldn’t have handled losing both of them. Well then again, if He had required that of me, I would have, but I am so so so thankful He didn’t take Kristi too.

I suffered losing Amy. I suffered watching her children move on without their mommy. I suffered thinking of my husband’s loss. He and Amy had been so close. And while the pain is gone, mostly. I still suffer from losing her. There is joy in her memory. I love that she was feisty and fierce! I love that she was the defender of the underdog. I learned what it meant to love like Jesus in a deeper way through her ministry to homeless and trafficking victims. But there is still an emptiness where she once filled. She has completed her role as mom and daughter here. I look forward to the day I walk beside her again as sisters.

Suffering has changed me to understand that we don’t always get what we ask for even when what we ask seems right, good, certainly must be God’s will. Being a Christian doesn’t mean our suffering is understandable. I don’t understand. But I do trust him. I know that he gets it, and he did what was right for Amy, for her kids, for my husband, for Kristi and my other children, and for me, even though it doesn’t feel like it. I know I have a Good, good Father, a loving Savior, a kind and caring Healer. And some day when I step through that door into eternity, then I will see and there will be no more tears, and no more suffering.