Walking on Water.... still

This morning in church -- we haven't been there in several weeks -- the guest minister referenced the story of Peter walking on the water from Matthew 14. That is an important story for me; it is the "theme" for this blog and a source of encouragement for me. I feel a bit like Peter in the story, when he sees the waves and becomes afraid:

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" (v. 29-30)
As soon as Peter took his eyes off Jesus, he saw his circumstances and he became afraid. He started to sink. My prognosis and the words of Kathy Miller are my wind. If I dwell on them for too long, I can feel myself start to sink emotionally. Literally. So, it is important for me to remember Jesus' response:

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. (v. 31-32).
Do I believe that Jesus is nearby and able to reach out his hand to catch me? I do.... I just hope and pray that he does it soon -- I am ready for my wind to die down. Literally.

Today after church we told our older boys what Dr. Miller had said in her consultation last Wednesday. They continue to react to information in a very consistent way -- Shane is forever the fact finder, asking questions and trying to process all of the information. It is hard to tell how upset he is about the news. He puts on a strong front, and does not show his emotions very openly. Tyler had some questions, but he pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve. He needed more reassurance and encouragement. He liked Psalm 112:7, the Bible verse that I had read before the consultation with Kathy Miller.

Dr. Miller might think she was being compassionate by being so "realistic" about my prognosis, but I really and truly resent the information she gave me -- it is a defeatist attitude that has caused my family much grief. She has past experience and statistics to back up her point of view, but no one knows anyone's outcome over the next two years or beyond. I think my anger is what keeps me from spiraling out of control -- I am determined to prove her wrong and to LIVE a full, long life.

And so my fight goes on -- tomorrow is my next chemo date. It is a 4-hour chemo, and after this one I'll be more than half way through the first round of chemo. Another batch of drugs start after Labor Day. My oncologist continues to be optimistic, and I rely on his optimism. It is much better than anything Dr. Miller had to offer me. Perhaps my oncologist knows that the best "chemo" available is hope.