At His Table

I’ve decided that “fear” of recurrence isn’t always a bad thing.  Actual “recurrence,” now that is a completely different matter.  But the “fear,” isn’t always bad.

I posted last week that I had a chest x-ray that revealed a fractured rib.  Most likely it’s just weak bones due to radiation, but I suppose there is a chance the cancer has metastasized to the bones.  I found this out on the day we left on a family vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. 

If I told you I didn’t think about it, that would be a lie.  I do think about recurrence.  It doesn’t entertain my thoughts 24/7, but at reflective moments on the beach, watching my kids play, I think about it.

What would it be like to lose my hair again?  (miserable) 

Would they have the medicine to cure me this time? (hopefully)

What would it mean to have bone mets? (ughhh!)

These are a few of my thoughts.  But here is what little nabs of recurrence really do for me:

It reminds me I am a child of God and He is my Redeemer.

It reminds me that my husband is good and kind and trustworthy, and I am blessed to have him in my life.

It reminds me that every day is a gift.  Not one day should be taken for granted.

It reminds me where my true source of comfort resides.

Today is Maundy Thursday.  A celebration of the Passover meal Christ shared with his disciples.  I think about how Christ felt knowing his death was eminent.   In eating a meal with his “family,” he was not only giving comfort, but he was receiving comfort as well. 

It’s fear that reminds us where our source of comfort really lies.  We try desperately to fill that void, but those attempts are often in vain.  I have received nourishment from Christ’s table in happiness, in pain, in sadness, in turmoil, on my wedding day.  I have taken communion without feeling much at all unfortunately.  But I have always received communion as a source of comfort.  Comfort from a connection far greater than I can begin to understand. 

This Maundy Thursday, as we prepare to remember Christ’s death, I’m not mourning in fear of what “might” happen.  I’m welcoming it as a reminder of truth and life and rest and most of all, of comfort.  Always comfort.

“When it was time, he sat down, all the apostles with him, and said, “You’ve no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you before I enter my time of suffering. It’s the last one I’ll eat until we all eat it together in the kingdom of God. 

  Taking the cup, he blessed it, then said, “Take this and pass it among you. As for me, I’ll not drink wine again until the kingdom of God arrives.

Taking bread, he blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, given for you. Eat it in my memory.”

 He did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant written in my blood, blood poured out for you.” (Luke 22:14-20)


One thought on “At His Table

  1. Mary Cryderman says:

    Hey, Love you. Hope you had a great vacation.

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