The Weight of Fulfillment

(There are definitely two sets of footprints...)

I'm not sure about the whole Footprints in the Sand poem. If you're anything like me, you wanted it tattooed, quoted it to others while they were going through it as a line of encouragement...

But I'm seriously questioning the meaning behind it right now.

There, of course, are verses where we are carried and renewed like wings like eagles, restored, given strength; all of these promises are incredible and necessary for the fragility of humanity.

Our spirits need to be renewed, refreshed, thank God for the Holy Spirit.

But...I go back to the Footprints in the Sand, and I think about Jesus and the cross...

and then I think about his command to follow Him, to take up your cross and follow Him.

I don't read anything into that about Him carrying our purpose for us...

I read that as we are called to shoulder the cross for His purpose for our life.

And the weight of that fulfillment is heavy sometimes.

And right now, mine is heavy.

It's like starting a race across an ocean; you get caught in storms, your arms get tired, you're exhausted, your life jacket is on so you'll never drown, and there are so many surrounding boats with your friends and family cheering you on, swimming by you, telling you you can do it.

And every so many miles swam, you're able to climb out of the water for a few hour break, some water, rest, sleep.

But that's it.

You alone have to keep going.

You alone have to swim the length in it's entirety.

There is no other option.

You need to walk your path He is called you to.

And there are definitely two sets of footprints; His and mine.

And that is how I feel.

Six months into Aron's cancer diagnosis, my spirit, mind, and body are crying out with fatigue and overexertion in a way I never knew possible.

Anytime there is an outing, I need to be there for meltdowns, puking, soothing, carrying just the right way, responding to him in a way that he feels the safest because I'm his mother.

Anytime he wants to do something, go out, feels like doing his go-kart, I need to be there.

Stop whatever I'm doing, wake up if I'm sleeping, and handle it.

I tend to every beep on his feeding pump 24 hours a day;

soothe every emotionally dysregulated outburst,

push his physical limits moment by moment through tears and tantrums because his limited recovery window,

hold him through every blood draw as he screams, "Mommy, no! You can't let them, mommy, make it stop!"

I'm there when he tells me he knows he's different, and that he can't do what he used to.

And my entire being crumbles.

I have to hold in the tears and be strong for him, put aside my breaking soul, and soothe him even though there is nothing I can physically do for him.

Aron is the one that has to feel the blood draw, the toxins circulating throughout his body, the feeling of puking on a daily basis, his body spasming with each upheaval, the uncontrolled shaking of his right hand as he learns to use it again, the frustration of wanting his body to do something but doesn't respond to what he wants because his brain is still inflamed from proton therapy and radical brain surgery.

I know God is encouraging his spirit, and along side him.

But there are definitely two sets of footprints.

Aron is walking his path and feeling every stone, rock, and ounce of his cross.

And Jesus is right there with him, walking along side him.

But there are definitely two sets of footprints.

I know God is with me, His breath is sustaining, His love surrounding me unending.

But there are definitely two sets of footprints.

I feel every ounce of the weight of the purpose God has called me to walk right now; to be a mom of a child with aggressive cancer and devastating side affects, and a mom of a healthy child simultaneously.

The weight of fulfillment is felt more keenly at times more than others.

That's biblical; there is a season for everything under heaven.

Please don't confuse feeling the weight of purpose with a lack of faith.

Experiencing the weight of fulfillment is also biblical.

Jesus carried His cross;

He was given a reprieve because of his exhaustion, and someone carried His cross for a distance.

BUT HE STILL HAD TO WALK UP THE HILL.

There were definitely two sets up footprints.

Sometimes I look at Aron, at everything we're doing for him...and to him; the constant at home therapy, making him go to appointments and get poison infused into his body in hopes of healing him, making him learn to walk again, go to hospitals against his will, get poked with needles, take medications with side effects...

I look with a realistic lens that he may not make it through this.

To not realize this is simply living in denial.

Please do not take understanding the reality of cancer as a lack of faith.

People die of cancer all the time.

Christians die of cancer all the time.

That would be incredibly judgmental to say they didn't have enough faith and that's why they "succumbed to cancer" right?

We, as believers, aren't called to call out our brothers and sisters on their amount of faith; Behaviors-yes.

Amount of faith-no.

Jesus can- He repeatedly called out His follower's faith.

See that?

JESUS did the calling out. JESUS.

We, as believers, are called to encourage others not to give up faith, keep persisting, finish well.

Amount of faith? No.

I have faith that God knows, God sees, Jesus heals, His Spirit is providing us what we need to physically take each step He's designed for us.

But there are definitely two sets of foot prints.

He's walking with me, but I am called to walk as well, experiencing the weight of His fulfillment more intensely up this hill.

And then there will be a downward slope and the weight won't feels as heavy.

And there will be two sets of footprints on that part also.

But there are definitely two sets of footprints.