Anthony’s treatment plan involves a chemo infusion at the oncology office every 3 weeks and then chemo pills for 14 days, morning and night. And guess what is super expensive? Chemo. Feeling pretty grateful for insurance and pharmacy co-pays.
The chemo pills are conveniently delivered right to our door step.
Yep, right to our door step.
Where Marley often finds deliveries before we do.
Marley is our massive dog who likes to chew on things. All things. Like packages and prescription bottles.
So the boys come running into me the other day saying, “Mom! Are these dad’s pills!?”
Oh, um… would you look at that…
So I wasn’t completely panicking but I was wondering how exactly we were going to remedy this situation. Did I mention these pills are expensive? Insurance isn’t going to cover what they already covered that our dog decided to consume.
Each pill container has 112 pills in it. This one now contained 97, and fragments of others. So yeah, how much is it going to cost to replace these? I don’t know but I’m guessing it’s going to be in the hundreds of dollars range. Merry Christmas to us!
So I mention to my friends, hey guess what Marley did? Because sometimes when you share really stressful scenarios you can laugh a little at them. Like, oh my word, how are we going to pay for these? I sure hope Marley doesn’t die! Ha, ha, ha!
(btw Marley is fine)
So one of them says, “Guess what I have in my freezer?” Yep, the same exact pills in the same exact dose. Sadly, her husband recently went through the same cancer and these were his leftover pills. That she saved.
I mean, who saves chemo pills? Vicodin, antibiotics… sure, who doesn’t have a couple of those hidden somewhere in their medicine stash? But chemo pills? How random.
And also, how kind of the Lord. To incline the one friend I know who has ever had these exact pills as a reality in her life to keep the extra ones on the off chance that my husband might just get the exact same cancer and my dog just might eat the exact same pills.
Her Christmas package was very thoughtful this year…
I shared this with another friend and she said, “The Lord really does provide for you. Frequently. I mean, I know he provides for his people, but I’m quite impressed at the obvious ways that he provides for you all the time. Literally like manna.”
Manna. That’s really the best analogy for the Lord’s provision. Because the Israelites wouldn’t have even needed the food if they hadn’t been in the wilderness. And I really do see in my own life how the Lord so often sprinkles manna for my family when facing our wilderness, when we are in the thick of suffering and wandering and struggle.
I could do without the horror of losing my child. And most definitely would love to not have to watch my husband go through cancer. But these earthly trials are not indicators of whether or not God loves me. Or of his goodness. Or his sovereignty. These are the opportunities for his manna. For his provision. His growth in me.
I don’t want to squander my manna. I don’t want to miss the miracle of its appearance or complain that I’m in the wilderness in the first place. How I wouldn’t need it if I was still back in my Egypt. How I’d rather have meat instead. I want to continue to always see it as the miracle it is.
I don’t want to miss these moments of the Lord’s kindness. I want to be grateful and aware. To see that the Lord prompts his people to do things like save extra chemo pills or Instacart groceries to our house on the day I need it most. He provides little things like gift cards for those weary moments when cooking dinner feels like an insurmountable task, and big things like approval for new insurance with a pre-existing condition like cancer.
These wilderness places are where he shines the brightest. Not in the absence of trial but right in the middle of it. When it’s dark, he’s the true source of light. When there seems to be no way, he’s the only way. When there is no earthly hope, his heavenly Hope is all I need.
I don’t sign up for these things. But I certainly have experienced Jesus more in the fires of my life than on the mountaintops.
I’ve experienced his sweet provision and blessing before, when Mason died. And I’m confident I will see it again throughout my life. Because trials and hardships will come. But he has already written my story and prepared my way. He provides manna and splits the sea and the veil has been torn so his presence can walk with me every step.
This Christmas, I am thankful for a stash of chemo pills. I’m thankful for manna. I’m thankful for friends the Lord uses to bless us. I’m thankful that the Lord sees my needs, big and small and never wastes a moment to show me his goodness.
“We have great demands, but Christ has great supplies. Between here and heaven, we may have greater wants than we have yet known. But all along the journey, every resting place is ready; provisions are laid up, good cheer is stored, and nothing has been overlooked. The commissary of the Eternal is absolutely perfect.
Do you sometimes feel so thirsty for grace that you could drink the Jordan dry? More than a river could hold is given to you, so drink abundantly, for Christ has prepared a bottomless sea of grace to fill you with all the fullness of God. Do not be frugal. Do not doubt your Savior. Do not limit the Holy One of Israel. Be great in your experience of His all-sufficiency. Be great in your praises of His bounty, and in heaven you will pour great treasures of gratitude at His feet.” -Spurgeon
