I don't know how this post will turn out today... I'm in a bit of a weird place, so bear with me.
I went to visit my mom in the hospital today. She is good, stable, and amazingly strong. The surgeon removed a sample of her cancer for biopsy yesterday, placed in a tube for draining the fluid that has collected, and put some sort of powdery substance to inhibit the growth of the cancer. Everything went well and as expected. A lot of fluid has drained out already, and they wait until that flow slows down to a certain rate to remove the drain.
It feels almost surreal to be talking about all of this. About my mom. I looked at all the fluid coming out of her this morning when I was there to visit her, and I was amazed - at what she's been carrying around with her, at how exhausted she must have been feeling but not wanting to show. And I was angry - angry at that stinking fluid. I wondered if the cancer was in that fluid, too. I thought about ways I could get back at it - I could chunk it out that 9th floor window, throw it into a fire, or flush it down the toilet. I just couldn't stand the thought that some of the cells that threaten to take my mother away from me were right there - right there in that stupid container in front of me and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Not a damn thing.
I'm just angry.
I went to my mom's house on Sunday afternoon and did what any good Southern woman would do for another in such times... I mopped her floors. As I mopped and cried, cried and mopped, I thought about how stupid it was really to think that it was helpful to go over and mop your mom's hardwoods. But it was just all I could think to do - to clean up a little for her, to make something, anything, a little easier. And I left her candy, too, and that's what any woman wants when she's not feeling well - her favorite sweets.
Here lately it seems that I go to bed praying for her and wake up praying for her. And I find myself at odd hours during the day praying for her, too. I guess some people may think that even more stupid than mopping her hardwoods, but I find it necessary. I talk to God about it. He's the only one who knows every burden on my heart right now, and He's the only one who can see how it all ends. So I find some comfort in knowing that He's working on a bigger picture right now - one I can't quite see at the moment but will hopefully make perfect sense in His magnificent timing.