steps

I went for a run in the snow yesterday. Before Ethan's diagnosis (so yes, just 2 weeks ago) I was starting to train for a half marathon in April and so had been running 4 times per week as part of my plan to continue losing my Eloise-baby weight that has been hanging on for WAY too long.

So anyway, I went for a run; taking a (very slow) jog around Tower Grove Park, on a path I've probably jogged around hundreds of times before in the 5 + years that we've lived here. Winter has been awfully cold around here and so the snow that usually melts soon after it comes, still covered the ground.

And it was strange because I came to this long, plodding hill that is well known to my feet and legs for causing the familiar muscle burn. It was strange because I've run the hill so many times before, and yet it no longer looked the same. The winding path that goes through the trees and green grass was covered with snow. The trees looked more stark and barren against the snow.

I couldn't see the path on a hill that is familiar. It was the same hill but different.

That is about how it feels to be home. It's the same, but it's different. We are doing the same things we've always done - reading books, playing with toys, watching shows --- the fun and the mundane, but it's not the same as it was before. People ask how we are doing and it's hard for me to say --- to say things are going well doesn't mean the same thing as it did 2 weeks ago; being tired means something different.

My run up that big same, different hill yesterday also reminded me that God is taking us along this path one step at a time. Most of my responses to the "How are you?" questions contain something like "moment to moment" or "little by little," since it's the best way that I've found to summarize our new life. Crunching up the big hill yesterday on a path covered with snow took more effort, more focus on each step I was taking, making it impossible (and not helpful) to think about all of the effort I would need to get to the top. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

And that is what this new cancer journey is too. I truly believe God is supernaturally protecting my heart and mind from fears of the future or anxieties about the what ifs. All the steps we will need to take to get to the top and then back down the other side. God knows the future, therefore I don't need to. He remains the same even though our life is different now. He is leading us one step at a time. Reminding me that that is our pace now - slow and steady, from one treatment to the next, from one day to the next, sometimes from one moment to the next. He is the one who keeps each step steadfast.

I'm so thankful that He is who He says He is and that He is using so many things - the effort of an afternoon run, prayers and encouragement from our faithful army, His Word --- to remind me of His character. That He is faithful. That He is steadfast. That He is our strength in such a time of weakness. That He knows the depth of our hearts, even when we struggle to give an adequate answer to the simple, difficult "How are you?"

And it's okay to keep asking that question, by the way. We need the care and encouragement. Just don't be offended if we sometimes aren't quite sure what to say.  :)

1 I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot be moved;
    he who keeps you will not slumber.
⁴ Behold, he who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord is your keeper;
    the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
⁸ The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time forth and forevermore.

Psalm 121