mama

Last Thursday, at a Doctor's appointment, my mom was informed that she had an inoperable mass growing in her chest. A biopsy was scheduled for the next day, and when the results came back, they were inconclusive. She's going for round two of biopsy next week, and then there's nothing to do but wait.

This morning, during my daily reading time, Madeline L'Engle had this to say (from her book Glimpses of Grace):

My friend Dana and I talk about how we want to make everything all right for those we love, and cannot. Her mother died of pancreatic cancer only a few months ago. WE say to each other that if we were God we would make everything all right, and then we stop. Look at each other. Because we suddenly see that making everything all right would not make everything all right. We would not be human beings. We would then be no more than puppets obeying the strings of the master puppeteer. We agree sadly that it is a good thing that we are not God; we do not have to understand God's ways, or the suffering and brokenness and pain that sooner or later comes to us all.
But we do have to know in the very depths of our being that the ultimate end of the story, no matter how many aeons it takes, is going to be all right.

Maybe we can't make it all right now, but I sure wish we could.