Anxiety at Sea

One can't unknowingly apply BENGAY, or some other topical analgesic, any more than he can unwittingly fly to Las Vegas for a weekend getaway. Even if what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, you know if you've been there. What in the world am I getting at? Good question.

Sunday we were headed to church, running late as usual, when a searing heat instantly developed along the nape of my neck and branched out below, spreading like tree roots. It felt exactly as if I'd smeared BENGAY underneath my hairline - it was that cooling sensation you receive on the surface accompanied by penetrating warmth. It wasn't painful, just burning and unusual.

"What would cause this?" I wondered to myself as we barrelled along. I soon told my husband Randy, who was driving, about the strange feeling.  After a few more miles he asked if it was worsening.  "Yes," I responded. It intensified in waves. At times it lessened but it never went completely away.

Unfortunately, the "new me," the post-cancer me, kicked in. That's the woman who is certain that a stomach ache is undetected cancer that the gastroenterologist should have caught during my maiden colonoscopy - not the result of consuming three slices of cheesecake. 

If you've ever been diagnosed with cancer or some other illness, maybe you have a "new me" as well. Another example is the old me would get an occasional headache at the side of my temples - stress-induced, I'd assume, or from lack of water - but now I'm convinced that awakening brain tumors, once dormant, cause those same head pangs.  I've had all kinds of scans and my brain is physically fine. It's irrational, I know.

When we finally arrive to church, speed walking across the parking lot in hopes of us all finding a seat, I ask Randy to slow down and smell the back of my collar.

"Do I smell like menthol?" I asked him.

The less irrational, still hopeful me, thought maybe I had worn the shirt before during a time I had applied some smelly pain relief cream to my neck, and that some of its residue remained in the top of my shirt.

"No," he offered, "I don't smell anything."

There went that theory. And now you know I sometimes hang previously worn clothes back into my closet to wear later.

The new me surmised, "I must have malignant tumors growing in my spine." I couldn't have a simple pinched nerve. No. That's what old me would have thought.

Nearly as soon as we sat down and Mass began, the burning sensation subsided. But my mind kept going. New me wouldn't let it go. Could I have developed spinal stenosis like my dad had? It's a condition that for him required surgery, a surgery that stole his life. My chest started tightening and it became harder to breathe.

TRUST!

Where is your trust? I questioned myself. That's my word for the year. I always thought I trusted the Lord and didn't know why that word would be one the Holy Spirit would give me for 2019. But did I?

As I sat there wringing my hands trying to calm my heart I knew I needed to keep my eyes on Christ. What if I did have cancerous tumors in my spine? In my brain? So what if I was developing spinal stenosis, a genetic condition. Was there anything I could do to stop any of it? No. Can I stop any of the evils in the world? Prevent harm from coming to my children? Can I remove all troubles (real or imagined) from my life or anyone else's? Not a chance. But can I trust in Jesus to walk with me, to be with me, to still use me for his glory? Yes. Can I still believe that there are joy-filled days ahead and all things work together for good?
Of course.

In John 16:33 we read, "...In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Sometimes I think it's my job to overcome the world. How ridiculous, huh? We'd all be in a sinking ship if it were up to me to save the world from anything.

When the disciples were distressed over the rough seas bashing their ship, they cried out to Jesus, waking him. They all asked if he cared what was happening to them, they feared for their lives. Out of his compassion and with a few words, he quieted the storm - scripture says it became completely calm. Then he asked them why they were so afraid. I think he asks us that same question today when we face life's storms. Why are we afraid? Why do we worry? He is with us, in every circumstance, we have no need to fear.

Interestingly, in Rembrandt's painting of "The Storm on the Sea of Galilee" he depicts the disciples in various states of being during the waves' fury. Some are doing their best to take matters into their own hands, attempting to control the boat. It's an impossible feat. One is heaving over the edge of the boat, undoubtedly feeling completely out of control in the precarious situation. The rest are looking to Jesus.

We have those same options in life's storms and uncertainties. We can try our best to take matters into our own hands, we can do nothing and let the situation control us, or we can look to the creator of the seas and all that's in them for wisdom and courage.  We choose.

Recently I learned that Rembrandt painted himself in the scene. If you look closely, he's the one with one hand on his hat and the other on the rigging.

I would never knowingly place myself in the midst of a real storm, but when a storm finds me, I want to place my trust where it makes the most sense and will do the most good. Allowing my mind to conjure up and dwell on irrational thoughts only intensifies an imaginary storm. My goal, moving forward, is to place myself (and my trust) at the feet of Jesus - like the disciples - and like Rembrandt - where I know there is peace for my mind and soul. 

" May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." ~ Romans 15:13

Funny, after sitting here to write this, my knee is beginning to ache. I think I'll retrieve the BENGAY tucked away in my nightstand.