An Invitation

March 4th from Erin…

Most Recent Update:

• I have my pre-op appointment and Neurosurgery appointment next Wednesday, March 10.
• Surgery is scheduled for March 30 at Vanderbilt in Nashville, TN
• If all goes well with the surgery, I will come back home on Friday, April 2 or Saturday, April 3.
• I’ve created a facebook group where I’ll post more frequent updates, prayer requests and any needs as they arrive. You can join the group by clicking here.

Here’s what you can be praying for:

• Pray that the constant ringing in my ear will go away before or during surgery! 70% of people just have to live with it, so I’m praying I can be part of the 30% who don’t experience it anymore!
• Pray for my ability to focus on other things. I find I’m really easily distracted by all of this, but with more than a month until surgery, I still have a lot to get done at work and at home.
• Pray that God continues to teach me how to let go of the things that overwhelm and scare me about all of this. Pray I can give everyone and everything to Him.

These past two weeks have been so much better! HUGE thank you to everyone who has been praying for me, for the cards, texts, Amazon boxes, breakfast and lunch dates, coffees, dinners, social media messages, phone calls, or drop-ins at home or work. I feel so loved and I am feeling your love and support. For the first time since January 20^th, I have been able to be fully present at home, to rest, to laugh and not be constantly thinking about this tumor. What a gift!

We recently spent a good part of the weekend (and a decent amount of money) at Ikea. We never really do anything to make our Master Bedroom look presentable or put together, mostly because we’re the only ones who ever see it. But, since it looks like I’ll be spending a couple of months there during recovery, we decided it’s time to give it some attention. It’s kind-of like a weird version of nesting…

Lately I’ve been using the Glorify App as well as the Pause App. Both apps are helping me to set aside time in my day to refocus my heart and mind on giving all of this over to God. And as I think and pray about this, I’m beginning to see things a little differently. I’ll elaborate…

When I had our twins in 2012, I experienced massive postpartum hemorrhage and lost all the blood in my body. You can read more about that here. After an absolutely miraculous intervention, I survived. But I woke the next morning to discover I had developed DIC and could still potentially die in the next 24 hours.

Throughout that harrowing experience, I experienced a closeness, connectedness and trust in God that I have trouble describing. He was so near to us during that time and I had an overwhelming peace. I didn’t know if I would live or die, but I was so confident that even if I didn’t survive, it would be okay. I could trust that God knew what was best for my children and that it might not include me raising them. It sounds unbelievable now, but that’s what it felt like to experience the presence of the God of all comfort in those moments. In fact, I’ve often said that I wish I could go back to those moments from time to time to experience that kind of closeness with God again.

I feel like as I’ve been praying about all of this, my perspective has begun to shift. Rather than thinking of this brain tumor situation as something that’s happening to me, I’m starting to see it as an invitation.

An invitation to trust

An invitation not to do, but to be

An invitation to surrender

The path before me for the next 3 months of brain surgery, recovery and adjusting to a new normal still feels really scary to me.

But, I believe that the God of the postpartum hemorrhage and DIC is also the God of the brain tumor.

As a follower of Jesus, I know He is always with me.

But there is something so tender and generous about the way He leans in close when we’re hurting. It’s that peace that passes all understanding. I’ve felt His peace in what would have otherwise been the darkest time of my life. I can be confident He will be with me for every step of this journey, too.

So, here I am, God. Arms outstretched. Looking up, because everything around me is scary. I give everything and everyone to you.

I’m trusting you. I’m expecting you. I’m counting on you.