He Bends Down To Listen
At the core of every Breast Cancer Awareness Month are the survivors tasked with pushing through the hollow pink platitudes and facing this disease for what it is.
Disorder in its highest form.
Buried beneath the warrior references are a group of unwilling soldiers aching to know.
When did I enlist?
Scan day is ripe with contradictions. I want to go, and yet I don’t.
Three hours, one tearful call to insurance, and several scans later the radiologist spotted something but didn’t feel it warranted any further testing.
We check again in six months.
This is a man who is notoriously thorough. The pragmatic side of me trusts him and his judgement. The checking is precaution. I’m grateful for the follow-up.
The weary, wounded side of me is grateful for a God whose goodness cannot be exaggerated and whose energy cannot be exhausted.
And it’s a good thing, because I’ve been emptying every runaway thought I have lately into His steady and capable hands.
From gratitude to disappointment and everything in between, I can no doubt be heard from miles away.
And there’s a defiance in my expectancy - as if there is nothing else in the world that could possibly need attending to.
I’m confident He welcomes it.
Psalm 116:2 - Because He bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath.