Lesley recently commented on a blog post of my mom’s and I’d like to answer a few questions she posed.
“Thank you for taking the time to post all those past photos. Such a miracle she is. Does she ever feel burdened with the thought that she has to do something ‘special’ because she was given the chance for a future, like she was given it for a reason? Or is she content to just be “Sarah”? Odd question, I know lol.”
First of all, it’s not an odd question at all. :)
For as long as I can remember, I have been told that my life has a purpose. My life had a purpose before cancer developed in my right adrenal gland: at the time it was primarily to be a ray of sunshine personified as a five-year-old girl who traveled all around the country with her family. My life had that purpose afterwards, as well: then it was to be an even brighter ray of sunshine personified as a six-year-old with considerably less hair who brightened hospital rooms. As I go through various chapters of my life, I have a purpose that might be slightly different than what it was a week ago. All of those various purposes add up to one sum: God’s will for my life.
Regardless of if I ever got sick, I would be living for a reason. Just like everyone else. Just like the hundreds of kids who were also diagnosed with neuroblastoma and went Home early. Yes, I believe that from the very beginning God had a special plan for my life that has only been furthered by my medical experiences, but that doesn’t mean that I am any better than those little babies whose brief lives are spent wholly hospitalized. Their lives have purposes, too, ones that are fulfilled in a shorter amount of time than mine. Maybe some teach their moms to have a servant’s heart; maybe some remind their dads of how fragile life is; maybe some bring distant families closer together during long hours spent in waiting rooms. All lives touched by cancer are touched by pain: period. No one will ever know the exact reasons why some lives are cut short. But as Pastor Rick Warren says, “God never wastes a hurt.”
So yes, my heart is broken whenever I hear of anyone – a child, especially – go through disease of any kind. I do wonder about what exactly God kept me alive for. I’ll never fully understand the mysterious ways in which He works. But when I sing the words, “He’s got the whole world in His hands,” I am reminded of just how big the pair of hands is that hold not only my eighteen-year-long life, but the lives of everyone who have walked, are walking, and will walk the face of this earth.
Word of the day: genial: marked by or diffusing sympathy or friendliness