Thanksgiving and Brain Tumors

// November 19, 2016 //

I came home for Thanksgiving early.

I have a few photoshoots and got permission from my professors to turn assignment in online and not be in class. (Holla atcha, professors.)

While I still have a lot of work to do at home, sitting in my quiet room, snuggled in my blankets in my own bed is wonderful. I’m not complaining!

I’ve had a lot of time to process emotions that I haven’t been able to process at school. (Sorry, mom. Haha.)

I’ve also had time to go through old journals and reflect. It seems fitting to look back at what God has done in my life on Thanksgiving break!

I read through my journals from my missions trip to Haiti my senior year of high school. I LOVE re-reading what God did in Haiti. A thousand kids attending VBS. Praying to lead a little girl, Widline Pierre Tranquille, to Christ with the help of a translator. Laughing when tires pop. Getting sick from eating cold fish heads. Remembering the breeze of Haiti and all the people packed into Port-Au-Prince. Reading about how amazed I was that God sees every single person and knows them. God is good.

I read about how my heart ached when friends failed me in high school. How I knew loneliness could only truly fulfilled through Christ. I am so thankful that He calls me His daughter and His friend.

God never fails.

I read about my thoughts during my dad’s brain tumor.

I wrote, “Thank you for giving dad a brain tumor. You changed and grew me and my family SO MUCH through it. It taught me about how to go through something hard, how to cling to You, and how to comfort someone who is going through something hard.”

I don’t think I’ve shared the words that I journaled about the process of my dad’s brain tumor before. I teared up many times reading through old journals, but here is the point where I teared up the most:

[beware, I’m sorta just jumping into a minefield of emotions]

•••

“For the first few weeks leading up to the surgery, my feelings and emotions were all over the place. I tried to keep my focus on Christ. I tried to be positive. Which I was trying Christ with it for the most part – I wasn’t bitter or angry at all, I was ready (mostly) for spiritual warfare – but I was pushing down my fear, not surrendering it. Tears always threatened to come rushing out, like a river when the dam breaks. My chest was always tight. I could feel my soul rooted in Christ, but surrounded by confusion and almost unbelief that it was really happening. Seemed like a contradiction that those feelings could co-exist.

Sometimes I wanted to just have the tumor myself. It hurt and ached like crazy to watch him suffer day after day; barely be able to walk a few steps; only be able to open his eyes weakly; sleep a lot. But he still preached through it for a while. God always gave him enough energy to rock the sermon every week.

My brain always felt like it was spinning, asking “what if” questions. But I would shove them down. I’m not supposed to be anxious about anything, I would think.

I broke. Bottling up is not a good method… but I hadn’t recognized I was bottling it up. I was asking God for His will, but having a hard time surrendering fear. I thought I was surrendering it. Nope.

My parents called us to the couch to process everything. It was terrifying, but we lifted up prayers saying “Your will, God. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing else.” “My God can, my God will. And even if He doesn’t.” “TAKE IT AWAY, GOD. LET HIM COME AWAY HEALTHY. PLEASE!!! But even if you don’t. WE. WILL. WORSHIP.”

This is where I broke. Tear upon tear hitting the floor. Sob after sob wrenching from my heart, groans starting in my stomach. My feelings of “this is too much to handle” came out. And it was too much to handle, but only without my God. I remember my whole family weeping together, holding each other, praying, worshipping. It was awful. But it was beautiful. This. THIS. Is what surrendering looks like: bowing before our God, even if it means tears, being transparent. Sharing our fears, frustrations, joys, pains. Asking him to deliver how we want it delivered. Recognizing he might not do it. Praising Him for who He is – no matter what He decides.

After this moment, it was so much easier to be transparent. It was the closest we had ever been as a family… While the moments I had with my family were priceless and necessary, the moments I truly grew the most were the alone times I had with God. I was able to pour my heart out. He is “my refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble”. Worship songs were my go-to, laying flat on the floor. Never had the notes sounded so awful coming out of my mouth, but meant so much coming from my heart. Looking back, I can honestly say that it was at this point that the all-powerful, all-knowing God was my very best friend. My rock. Who I shared everything with…

I remember when we found out at school that the surgery went well. I was worrying, praying, and surrendering all day. I knew that I was supposed to find out 4th hour how it went.

1st hour came and went. I was praying. 2nd hour came and went. I was praying. 3rd hour came and went. I was praying.

It was fourth hour and I couldn’t concentrate. Actually, school in general was very difficult that week. Hard to think. Picture how I felt in fourth hour:

The minutes were ticking. The teacher was talking. I was watching the clock. I was listening. I was watching the clock. Still ticking. Why wasn’t I getting a pass. My heart was beating fast. Did the surgery take longer than expected? It was almost to the end of 4th hour. What was going on? Wait, God is in control. Peace. But still, my stomach, oh I didn’t feel good.

FINALLY a piece of paper came for me. It wasn’t a pass. I didn’t get to talk to them? It had about two sentences. Something like this:

For Megan and Elissa Harkness.

Your dad’s surgery went well. He is fine.

THAT’S ALL I GET. I was elated, relieved, thankful he was okay! Ticked I got two sentences. I just wanted to cry for so many reasons.

GOD IS GOOD. And I knew that. THANK YOU, JESUS!!! …

He came home the next day, probably way too early. We cleansed the house, let friends take the dogs, got him comfortable. If he coughed or sneezed, his brain could start bleeding and… that would not be good.

We praised God and processed. More weeping. Letting out every fear that clenched my heart that refused to let go of my gut. God is SO good. God is sovereign. God is so good.

My dad still has a long road. His pituitary gland may never recover. But his tumor is out and meds can cover the hormones. God is good. God is sovereign. (And so thankful for all of the people that rallied around us, all the delicious meals, and the prayers.)”

•••

This is only part of my journal entry, but it shows the deep emotion that caused me to cling harder to Christ. I am thankful for a God willing to work through my emotion. I am thankful for a family ready to surrender to Christ. I am thankful for a church family ready to care.

I am thankful that three years later, two surgeries later, my dad is tumor free and his pituitary gland is functioning.

I’m thankful for my school and that God has taught me through hard things there, too. I’m thankful He’s used my major (design) to teach me about His creative side; I’m thankful for friends who point me towards Christ; I’m thankful that I get to direct a children’s ministry for elementary school kids; I’m thankful for my wing and weird Taylor traditions, for summers at home, and for random fun things like skydiving and rock climbing; I’m thankful that my failures don’t define me, but my responses to them do. (Well… sometimes I’m thankful for that.)

Really, though, I am thankful for a God who works everything together for my good and His glory. The tears and the struggles… they’re all worth it. I don’t always remember it, but I guess that’s why I journal. So that I can look back for thankfulness in the present and in order to live without fear of the future.

I could write forever about what I’m thankful for. But since that last paragraph felt sorta like a conclusion, I guess I’ll end with this:

Take time to look back. Whether that means looking back on today, yesterday, or ten years ago. I’m sure the memories contain joy, sadness, laughter, foolishness, and pain. But I can promise this, because the Bible promises this: God works all things together for the good of those who love Him.

And THAT is a reason to be thankful.

Happy thanksgiving! (A bit early)