Have you ever had one of those experiences when you're feeling just a hint of something amiss in your life and then you open your Bible and God tells you exactly why?
I have this silly habit. It's born of my awful ability to stick to good habits.
We read the Bible together as a family every night before bed. It's awesome, but it doesn't really give me the deep spiritual connection to God that I need. I have a lot of trouble paying attention and understanding things that are read to me. I've tried everything from doodling (which helps some), to having my husband read more slowly, but I'm just not a great audio learner. For those who know my kids, you know this trait was passed down. The habit of reading on my own is really important for me, but I'm also pretty awful at keeping in a routine.
When I haven't been consistent on reading the Bible in the mornings and I've lost track of whatever book I'm on, my habit is to open the Bible and let it fall to a passage. I usually tell God, "Ok, show me what you want me to read today." (If it's annoying to God, he's never let on because most of the times the passages are very applicable to my current circumstances.)
This week, I had an appointment in Chicago. I went with some complex questions. Specifically, I wanted to know if a certain supplement would block the MDM2 protein from creating more havoc with my p53 mutation. So I asked what specific p53 mutation I had and if a supplement was effective with the MDM2 protein expression.
Sometimes, my doctors look at me like I'm another species.
This day, my PA didn't. She graciously talked about it with me and pointed me to the dietician and Dr. Block himself, who would have more detailed information for me.
I love that woman. I love them all at the Block Center. They get me.
Anyway, I received an email from the dietician who also graciously answered my questions. She's a peach. And I told her so. Okay, well, I didn't actually say, "Hey, you're a peach," because that would be a little weird, but I told her thank you at least three times. I also told her that I know I should trust that they've got all this figured out, but I'm a compulsive researcher and I just had to know things for myself.
Her response was something like, "These are good questions, but you're right. There is a lot to learn. That's why we have a whole team here." It was a gentle reminder that pestering her with technical questions might be unnecessary. In my defense, I have had some really bad experiences with medical facilities not listening to my concerns, so I feel the burden of staying informed.
I rode home with my mom and discussed this with her, telling her that I would never learn everything there is to know about cancer, but I still felt compelled to learn what I can. I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing, but I still had a bit of unease. How do you square the idea that you ultimately have no control while still taking responsibility for what you can and should?
Well, today, guess what my Bible fell open to?
Ecclesiastes. Ecclesiastes 1, to be specific. Solomon is talking about how much the world doesn't really change. Things pass away. People work. No one remembers previous generations. As I read through the chapter, I fixated on the final words.
Solomon was my kind of person. He spent his days as king engrossed in learning new things. As king, he felt a responsibility to be informed. Unlike me, he learned things and then actually became wise, too. In the end though, he says,
"I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind."
That hit me hard.
The attempt to gain wisdom, in the end, is just chasing after the wind.
I've been frustrated that we don't have all the answers to the cancer dilemma. We don't know why some people are cured and not others. We know things that improve our odds of beating the disease, but it's not guaranteed. We know some causes of it, but there are still healthy people who get diagnosed. There are so many factors and pathways to juggle in cancer care, even the best oncology researchers can't solve it yet.
When I fret over a single supplement or one aspect of cancer, it is really silly because there are twenty others I'm pushing aside.
I won't ever know in this lifetime what caused my cancer. I can't declare the day I'll be taken from this earth. And sadly, as much as I want to help other cancer patients, there will never be a day I can do that for them, either.
Cancer a great equalizer. Each of us diagnosed are all just as helpless as the next.
And I hope I remember that, honestly. Because when I do, that's when I bow my head and say,
"God, this is your will and your plan. Please grant me the courage to work as you would have me work, please grant me the humility to acknowledge my powerlessness, and please grant me the ability to praise you no matter the outcome."
I have none of those traits on my own.
As much as I want to comfort and help others who are going through the same thing as I am, I am not THE comforter. As much as Dr. Block is trying to save my life, he is not THE Great Physician. We may gain a bit of knowledge in this life, but it is all so laughable to God.
Sometimes, it's good to be reminded that, yes, we can research. Yes, we can share knowledge. Yes, we should absolutely help one another, but ultimately it is God who is our help and the source of all wisdom.
Let's always remember that.
❤
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash
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