I continue to have peace and even a heightened sense of aliveness despite the large shadow cast by such a small tumor. The darkness could grow with a grim diagnosis or shrink to manageable proportions; all I can do is live in the moment.
Today I read a story in the Gospel of Mark that encourages me as to the power of prayer. It’s the account of the paralytic whose friends dug through the roof to lower him into the presence of Jesus. There’s no indication of the paralytic’s faith or of him initiating the action; it’s the active faith of his four friends that brought about a miracle of healing.
Even if I can’t pray or muster the faith to believe God will intervene on my behalf, all I need is four friends who know where Jesus is and who don’t mind digging. Susan already has one corner of my litter, so all I need is three more.
While I haven’t consciously perceived Jesus’ intervention in years, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been at work. It only means I haven’t felt it in a way that I could acknowledge and interact with.