More Than I Can See

I feel like I’ve been more observant in recent weeks. I feel like my visual senses have been heightened as I’m taking in my surroundings. No doubt the mental aspect of the plot twist we have experienced has brought this on in part. It is probably also due to the physical aspect of my diagnosis. As there are days I don’t have much energy and am not able to focus on anything too intense for sustained periods, I find myself observing creation for longer periods and with more curiosity. The colors of spring are so intense and also soothing.

While I am observing what I can see, I still wrestle with the whole concept of having cancer. I cannot see it and I cannot feel it. I feel the affects of treatment, but not the cancer. It’s still hard to believe this is what is real. On strong days, those wonderful close to normal days, I can walk through the grocery store and no one would suspect I am fighting this battle. My chemo won’t cause me to lose all of my hair and my physical appearance really hasn’t changed. Yet, I have something more than what is visible. It is there.

Each time I go to receive a treatment or lab work, I am more aware of those who are also in the facility. I’m getting to know more of the care providers and getting a sense of their personalities. They have been wonderful. What is harder to sense, and more than I can see is the stories of those who are coming to receive treatments. Some I have had conversations with and I get a glimpse of more than what is visible. Some share smiles. Some appear quite fragile. It is humbling and somewhat overwhelming to be in their company, knowing there is more than I can see.

This past week I met a sweet couple (I’ll call them Lou and Mary) when I went in to turn in my pump. Lou wore a Vietnam Vet cap and was eager to introduce himself. He said, “This is not really where you want to go to meet people.” I smiled and said, “No, it’s not a club anyone wants to join.”  As we waited he asked me many questions about what I have been experiencing. He had just received his first treatment the previous day. I told him how I remembered the waiting to see what was going to happen feeling and hoped all would go well for him. Our visit was pleasant and I enjoyed seeing the kindness between this couple. They were so pleased with his oncologist and his first treatment and they told me they were still waiting for test results from the bone marrow biopsy. When Lou went back for his appointment Mary stayed in the waiting room and shared how she had lost five sisters to cancer all in their 40’s. She also told me how scared Lou was when he got his initial diagnosis and how depressed he had been. Mary shared how hard it was to see him crying and worrying that his lymphoma might be widespread.

In a brief time, I had a vision of what they are facing. It was more than I could see. It is more than they can see.

The reality is that everyone is facing more than we can see. I’m not trying to be a downer here. I’m just reflecting on my heightened awareness that I don’t know what people are facing. I don’t know what they are carrying. I don’t know. And, even if I know and have experienced something similar, I don’t know what it is like for them

Another reality is that I don’t have to know what others are facing to offer kindness, patience, gentleness and a smile.

The intense color of the green grass is visible. I can take in this from my visual as well as other senses. The cancer is real even though I cannot see it. What was found in a lymph node is not visible to the unassisted human eye. The feelings Lou and Mary are experiencing are real even though they may be more more I can see. If I were to rely on only what I can see I would enjoy the green grass, but I would be denying a lot of truth.

Faith disclaimer–here’s where I give a spoiler alert and let you sign off if you’d prefer to stay away from faith topics. I really won’t be offended. My faith is important to me and I’m willing to share it, but I would not want to hinder any relationship or offend. 

As my youngest has moved back home from college, her dorm room belongings have taken over various parts of the house. A canvas that she received from her sister-in-law is gracing my dining room table.

 more than I can see

I cannot answer everything question about what I believe. I cannot. But, that is really what makes it faith. I have plenty of evidence and some of it is unseen. How’s that for a twist? But, I know I believe. 

Chris August has a beautiful song that I would encourage you to listen to. I have let these words soak in the ways I know how and have wept, smiled and if truth be told, have danced while singing them. I find wisdom in them. I find strength in them. I find hope and more in them.

I don’t need a rainbow to know who made the rain
Don’t need the waters parted to know who made the way
And I don’t need a healing to know who is the cure
Of this I’m sure

I believe that there is something more than I can see
I believe that there is someone holding onto me
Sometimes I won’t feel it, but that don’t change a thing
‘Cause it’s by faith that I believe

If you had some heartache that made you cry a thousand tears
Then let me tell you now I know just how you feel
And that heavy weight of sorrow that you’ve carried for so long
Will soon be gone

‘Cause I believe that there is something more than I can see
I believe that there is someone holding onto me
Sometimes I won’t feel it, but that don’t change a thing
‘Cause it’s by faith that I believe

You might see a miracle and give praises to the Lord
Don’t let a touch from heaven be the thing you’re waiting for
Blessed are those who don’t see but still believe, do you believe?

I believe that there is something more than I can see
I believe that the arms of Jesus are holding onto me
Sometimes I won’t feel it, but that don’t change a thing
Cause it’s by faith that I believe
I believe, I believe

I wrote the words out even though they are on the youtube link because I think they are that worthwhile. They are seemingly simple, but there is much to them. I think they are words written on purpose, with a purpose. (a flashback to my blog title!) I cannot improve on them, but I want to say…don’t let a touch of heaven be the thing you’re waiting for. Check out John 20:29
more than I can see1
As I continue on with what I cannot see, I am mindful of Lou and Mary and prayerfully hope they receive good news this coming week. I will be watching for them when I go for treatment. We may not cross paths often, if even again as our schedules are different, but I’m thankful for them.
I am not thankful for everything that is unseen, that’s for sure. But I’m thankful that I believe in something more than I can see. It’s by faith, I believe.

As a means of updating: round three of treatment was completed last week. So far, the weeks after treatment have been closer to normal weeks, for which I’m thankful. Thanks for the continued prayers and support!

2 thoughts on “More Than I Can See

  1. I enjoy your blog posts, Diane, as your writing is so honest and inspirational. Today’s thoughts are so true, we do not know what burdens others bear. I’m so glad to hear your treatment is going well. Continued love and prayers to you!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Diane, I have loved reading your blogs and this one is no exception. Your great analogies of seeing and not seeing were great! Likening it to our faith was refreshing as to compared to what we can see or not see what is going on inside of people. Your cancer may not be visible but you know it is there because you have been told so. The same is true with other people who may have cancer or may just be hurting on the inside because of some other physical, mental or spiritual pain they are going through. Your advice is well taken that we can always offer kindness, a smile, even though we don’t know what others are facing. Everyone seems to be facing some kind of battle.
    Thanks for posting the words from Chris August. It is a powerful song. Songs can minister to us as well as God’s Word when nothing else will.
    It was so good to be able to visit with you last Wednesday. Hopefully I didn’t wear you out too much.
    Thanks for being conscious of those around you at your clinic who are going through cancer too or are the family members or friends standing beside them. By your sweet smile or words of hope you can encourage many people along the way. Bless you friend. Looking forward to your next blog whenever that might be.

    Liked by 1 person

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