Living in a Tent

"For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."  2 Corinthians 5:1

You know, when someone tells you that the lump is cancer, you start thinking a lot about living. We live in a tent for sure ( ever noticed the tent stakes getting loose)?  By "we" I mean the eternal part housed in the vinyl, the spiritual in the physical.  It's not often that this consideration of "where will I be housed" is actually taken literally. Where do you want to live? How do you want to live while you are there? Although the hope of heaven is powerfully strong in my heart, I still want to be here in the tent because we're not done camping together!

So the tent is compromised. The wind is howling, beating on the sides and seems to be saying, "Just wait to see what I have in store for you!" Conversations about this seem surreal still. I keep thinking radiology is going to call me in a panic and say they made a huge mistake and they are so sorry about the awful fright they've given me.  Telling friends and family is like watching my own funeral happening before my eyes. I'm reaching up with my hands checking the roof of this tent, looking intently for the signs of wear that I somehow missed. 

Cold Hard Facts:

1) MRI Thursday at 2pm will tell how much it has spread.  Oncologist appointment will follow, then surgeon.

2) Primary doctor wants blood work and bone density checked in order to gage amount of bone loss caused by follow up treatments.

3) I'm first on the waiting list for surgeon with a great track record.

4) Primary says she has never lost anyone to this kind of breast cancer. They may have lost breast and hair, but she hasn't lost any of them, and assures me I will not be the first. I think of this promise often.

"Abide in Me, and I in you." John 15:4

Abiding has been on my mind long before this all happened. I've been rereading, dissecting  rephrasing, contemplating chapters 15 and 17 of John trying to find the keys to unlock my understanding about not only abiding in this tent I'm in, but in God Himself. In my journal I lamented, "Father, why can't what is in my head get into my heart. I'm beginning to lose hope that I will ever figure it out."  Looks like He is going to help me out here with a chance to practice.

 I'm answering the wind that taunts me outside, "Don't think you can scare me...my heart is already in another place!"  But despite that, we are going to fix this tent for now to finish the camping trip since  all those here would be eating bark soon enough without me along to cook! So here we go. I'll post again with news from the MRI after Thursday.