Coloring with Jesus

A couple months ago, I had the realization that 1). I never dream about Jesus, and 2). that's really weird because I spend so much time thinking about Him. He's the center of my life. I spend time with Him every day, read His word every day, and try my best to live for him. He is the most important relationship that I have. But instead of dreaming about the Savior I hold dear, I dream about things like rivers full of VHS tapes or labyrinthine houses with really big bathrooms. 

And then, two nights ago, it finally happened. I dreamed about Jesus. We were coloring, Jesus and I. I was coloring a picture of Jesus--while coloring with Jesus. We only had four crayons. He passed me the blue crayon so I could color His sash. And then I drew brown hair on the picture (the Jesus picture was bald and cleanshaven). 

That was it. Nothing miraculous happened. Nothing spiritual. Just coloring--but I loved it. I like the version of John 14:2 that says, "In my Father's house there are many rooms" (NIV). Oh, I'd take a mansion, to be sure (as many other versions tell it). But the idea that we're going to stay in His Father's house with Him makes heaven seem much more like going home to live with family. Jesus is my King, my Savior, and my Lord--but He's also my brother and my friend. I like the idea of doing mundane sibling things with Him. I want to share crayons and color pictures. I want to eat cereal and play board games. I want to laugh with Him.

But, in the meantime, I'll sit at His feet every day and talk with Him about life. I'll learn to listen to His voice. And, hopefully, I'll see Him in my dreams.

Routine Cancer Diagnosis

 My older sister was diagnosed with breast cancer last week. She got the call on Friday morning, following her Thursday biopsy (during which the doctor optimistically told her she didn't think it was cancer). 

There should be a rule among doctors--or at least a strong suggestion--not to ruin a patient's weekend with a cancer diagnosis. It's hard to have fun on Friday night when you're weighed down by the knowledge that an enemy has invaded your cells. 

This Wednesday, she'll meet with a surgeon. Cancer makes even healthcare move a little faster.

We have a pretty good idea of what lies ahead. We've been here before. My mother is a breast cancer survivor, as is my twin sister. We know the routine: surgery, radiation (sometimes), chemotherapy (often). We know about wigs and hats. We know that eyebrows and eyelashes may not grow back, that curly hair can grow back straight, that leg hair may be sparse for years to come. That chemotherapy keeps your underarms from producing odor, making deodorant unnecessary for up to a year afterwards.

We know about weight loss and vomiting, diarrhea and constipation, nose bleeds and fainting. 

We know how cancer ages you.

But this isn't the worst thing my sister's been through. She lost both her husband and her oldest son to cancer. Their diagnoses were far more tragic than her own. Her husband lived six months after what he thought was an ulcer was discovered to be colon cancer. My nephew lived one day after his doctor began to suspect that his pneumonia might actually be leukemia--a diagnosis not confirmed until his autopsy.

It'll be a rough year, which is another thing we know. But as people of faith--as Jesus followers--we have hope. We have peace. Obviously, we'll be praying for healing, but if healing doesn't come, if that isn't God's plan, then may we have God's grace to walk this road with courage and to stand together in strength and unity.