MRI of the Chest

So it was Tuesday, early morning. I drove into work with Mike so I could have a 6:45 am MRI of the Chest, which is proper protocol for diagnosing this possible Myasthenia Gravis. It was so nice to have a few minutes to just be together in the early morning during the drive in. The last 5 days or so have been peppered with visitors, the pager going off, and children getting up in the middle of the night. I went into to have the MRI of the Chest done, and I didn't really have the down time to wait and think, and ponder and pray. I actually liked that time before the MRI of the brain, last Saturday, but oh well.

"I will fear no e- e- vil, for my God is wi -i-ith me, and if my God is wi-i-ith me, who then shall I fear? who then shall I fear?"
was the song going through my head this time. It was ready to be tested.

I had to stop by the employee pharmacy before leaving the hospital, and therefore had to go through the imaging rooms and "backstage" area of the facility. As I turned a corner, a screen with a set of lungs stared back at me. The egg shaped black hole along the side of the lung gave me a horrible thought. As my mind flooded with thoughts that I was not holding captive to the Lord: I hastily texted Mike asking him to meet me for breakfast. - Thoughts:
"where will we send the children, I may not be able to speak after a surgery like this, how will I live, what about Mike completing his fellowship, he's going to be devastated, should I tell him, oh no, I can't go home crying to my mom and children . . ."

My mind was an endless pit of thoughts that were about the future without me picturing God in control of it. I talked to Mike on the phone, and wanted to go to the cafeteria to have breakfast rather than meet him where his colleagues were. He needed to sit down for this one, and we needed to be alone. This was it.

Well, sometimes - actually more often than not - a little information is worse than a lot of information. How little I know compared to these doctors. "Sweetie, that black egg shape could have been anything- bowel, your intestines, a piece of your diaphragm coming through. The MRI takes slices of your chest at all different angles, and it really could have been anything." gently and sweetly said Mike. I started thinking, wow, he is a really good actor, protecting me from thinking I'm going to die of this tumor. This awful picture flashed in front of my eyes. It was what "I SAW." I definitely was right. I mean, every time I close my eyes, I see my tumor sitting there in my little left lung. This was it, let me go home and set up a schedule and people to watch the kids, and if I die where will they go and who will raise them, and how will they live? ----Jo, Breath.

The MRI machine told me itself "Breath in, Breath out, Hold your breath, Relax."

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1 Did I say "I SAW" the egg shaped tumor? It turned out it was not a tumor. The MRI actually came back with the reading of WNL - which means "Within Normal Limits." This is all we know for now, but what a huge test of faith. I definitely failed that one. Thank God there is more than sufficient grace to cover my weaknesses and strengthen my heart. Thank you, Lord, for forgiving my hasty thoughts, my worry, and my picturing the future without you. Not even the far off future, I pictured the next 10 minutes without you several times in that exchange. Please sharpen me "bend us break us, till humbly we confess our need." (Bessie Head, Hymn "O Breath of Life.")

God is here. He is in the future, He is in the present. As Grandma Link said in the card she just wrote to Mike. "We don't know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future."

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