Last February, Dr S. had warned me, “You’re going to check into the Cancer Center, but don’t psyche yourself out.” I was thankful for that warning. I was also thankful for the receptionist who checked me in–she put a pretty flower sticker on my hospital identification bracelet that had my: name, DOB, age, sex, medical record number. They took a lot of blood in vials with tops in wild color combinations that I’d never even known existed–this system of colorful organization intrigued me. I was taught how to give myself injections and explained they ‘whys’ of the various medications.
Several hours later, I sat in the pharmacy parking lot, looking at my hospital identification bracelet, feeling weird–I was a cancer patient. I had the bracelet; I had the prescriptions; I had the symptoms. I didn’t like it, didn’t like the new reality of who I was–I didn’t like a doctor or hospital bracelet telling me who I was. I was the same person I had been four hours earlier, the only difference was that someone told me I had a rare neuroendocrine cancer.
Several hours later, I sat in the pharmacy parking lot, looking at my hospital identification bracelet, feeling weird–I was a cancer patient. I had the bracelet; I had the prescriptions; I had the symptoms. I didn’t like it, didn’t like the new reality of who I was–I didn’t like a doctor or hospital bracelet telling me who I was. I was the same person I had been four hours earlier, the only difference was that someone told me I had a rare neuroendocrine cancer.
In April, my church had a women’s retreat with the usual laughter, tears, epiphanies and of course a goodie bag–what woman doesn’t like a goodie bag? In the goodie bag was a leather bracelet with the words: Redeemed-Loved-Renewed. Jer 31:3 (I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.) Of course I cried; less than an hour earlier I had prayed: “I want to continually know that I am loved with an everlasting love.” This was an identification bracelet that I reveled in, with the associated ‘bloodwork’ that superseded any vial with a colored top. THIS is my identity. THIS is who I am. I am Loved; I am Renewed; I am Redeemed.When I listen to this song by Big Daddy Weave, I imagine myself dancing a ballad with Jesus, and I like that identity: I am redeemed.
‘Who I Am in Christ’–type this in a search engine for great resources
At Witz' End... 