All Is Well

When my kids were little we had a Christmas book that was very special to us. All is Well is the story of a little girl and her mother who were struggling for survival after a divorce, with little to no means for support. The Mom was out of work and Jenny, the little girl, decided to try to raise money by selling “stuff.” She hunted around the house for anything she thought might be valuable. She then loaded her wagon and went around to all the neighbors trying to sell her wares. Unfortunately at the end of the day she realized that a very special Christmas ornament had some how gotten mixed in with her stuff and sold. Jenny became frantic and began retracing her steps, because somehow she felt she and her mother had forgotten the true meaning of the ornament. She believed in order to regain that sense of balance in their lives, she had to have the ornament to remember. After frantically searching, and each neighbor telling her how they had had the ornament but passed it on to another neighbor, she finally found it.  Filled with relief she hurried home, and later realized the neighbors had been passing it around to raise money for her and her mother. That evening as her mother looked at the ornament she was able to remember . . .

Here is my favorite exert from All is Well:

And she’ll tell Jenny once again that God is the Grand Storyteller of our lives. She’ll tell her that, in a stable in Bethlehem so long ago, God wrote Himself into history. Now He walks with us in the mist of the story, and He’ll stay with us until that story is completed His way, in His time, for His glory (Frank Peretti).

It’s just a children’s story, yet the meaning is SO deep that as adults IF we could ALWAYS remember—Jesus wrote Himself into our story . . .

Each of us have a different story, different heartaches and different joys—As I contemplate the true meaning of Christmas . . .

Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

                                                                                                Luke 2:4-7

Jesus wrote Himself into my story, yet there was no room for Him, no one had room for Him except in a smelly stable after He gave up Heaven for me . . .

And the life He lived . . .

He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.       

Isaiah 53

Being diagnosed with cancer was definitely not the plan I had for my life. I was SO excited as CT after CT showed my tumors shrinking—I was going to be able to get my life back on track. Finish school, be a nurse practitioner . . . Suddenly it was back; the fatigue, the cough, the weight loss, that wrenching feeling that I had to face chemo again, that my life was out of control and that maybe I was going to die. . .

Those were hard, dark days as I struggled with all the human feelings of having my life ripped away from me again and feeling completely out of control. I was following all the holistic measures I believed in, but it was not enough—Why God?

As I begin this New Year, I feel extremely blessed to be a part of a clinical trial that so far has had wonderful success with lung cancer and leukemia. It is a relatively new drug, CPI-613 has been shown to disrupt the mitochondrial metabolism of the tumors and stop the growth of cancer by blocking blood flow. (www.cancer.gov/clinicaltrials). It is considered a target therapy since it targets just the cancer cells. With this clinical trial though are many obstacles. Winston Salem is 370 miles from my home, which is too far to go and come each time, and complicated by the fact that I have to be there every Monday and Thursday, three weeks out of four. Traveling is tiring, and it is hard to be away from home more than I am here. It is hard to leave my family, my support, and my pets, but yet I am so thankful for this chance to have hope. My mother is 89 years old and failing, so she forgets where I am and when I am coming home—she is struggling with me being gone so much. God is so good though, and my sweet niece, Margie, decided to take a leave of absence from work for three months to come and take care of her Grandma. On Wednesday, January 29^th I will have another CT scan to see how my cancer is responding to the treatment.

As I look at my life, my plans, my hopes, and my dreams, I realize that life is just a journey through the battlefield of this world—no matter what one does everything can change in an instant. Everything earthly that is, but when our eyes are fixed on heaven, we can see that the battle might be lost, but the War has already been won!

O let me walk with Thee, my God, as Enoch walked in days of old;

Place Thou my trembling hand in Thine, and sweet communion with me hold;

Even though the path I may not see, yet Jesus let me walk with Thee.

I cannot, dare not walk alone; the tempest rages in the sky,

A thousand snares beset my feet, a thousand foes are lurking nigh,

Still Thou the raging of the sea, O Master! Let me walk with Thee.

If I may rest my hand in Thine, I’ll count the joys of earth but loss,

And firmly, bravely journey on; I’ll bear the banner of the cross

Till Zion’s glorious gates I see: yet Savior, let me walk with Thee.

                                                                                    L.D. Avery Stuttle