Bandaids and Bandages

“One more?” The waiter asked my son.
“Sure!” was the reply as if it were a personal contest to see how many strawberry-lemonades he could drink.
I watched my son’s face in delight as he switched his straw from an empty glass to a full one, gave a twirl to mix up the strawberries, and slurped down his seventh lemonade as he finished his re-filled basket of fries.
I was super hungry. Yet, I wasn’t interested in the sandwich I had ordered. I had a hard time taking my eyes off of my teenage son. I was in awe of the impressive young man he was becoming. I felt like I had a front-row seat watching God refine him. And yet- here we were sitting together over burgers and fries as if it were just a normal Monday evening. I think my hunger was lost amidst the shock and disbelief as I recounted in my mind the conversations over the previous couple of hours.

The phrase that still sounds with perfect memory and clarity today -was uttered by the oncologist. We had traveled hours to see him. His Physician’s Assistant had previously been in the room and seemed to take an uncomfortably long time reviewing the images.
He said- “I’ll go get the doctor. I’ve never seen anything like this…”
We sat in the tiny, cramped sterile room having been silenced by the PA’s statement- just waiting…
The oncologist came in- exchanged some awkward small talk and took a second look at the images. He paused emotionless, and said with surety-
“This isn’t cancer.”

In the previous week, all of the radiology reports indicated osteosarcoma. Additional tests were ordered and imaging scheduled immediately. We were prioritized into a packed schedule of a top-rated oncologist in a larger city several hours away. A series of two-day appointments were booked including a particularly dangerous but necessary bone biopsy on day two. However, day two had me back at home.

Our case was dismissed. Nothing added up. I had to choose between chasing down facts and sitting with the doctor’s suggestive question…”Do you believe in miracles…?”

I had to get real in understanding healing from a different perspective.

I later learned of my son’s prayer as we drove to the oncologist appointment. My son said he was in a place in life where he believed in God and felt he had developed a relationship with Him.
My son also said he believed time with a football or basketball in his hands served as a greater priority based on how he spent his time.
Apparently, my son made a commitment to God that if He would heal him- my son agreed to put God first.

My son never played another down of high school football or a minute of high school basketball. So was he healed?
The concept of healing has evolved for me.
I think of it more as an avenue where God allows us to become more perfected in who He needs us to be.

That’s sometimes a different expectation than we have for ourselves. I used to think of healing as a return to what once was.
But perfection doesn’t work that way. We were imperfect before. So a return to that…?
Is that healing?
Certainly not…

Think of the invisible ways we feel broken…
How can God heal our hearts, and our minds…?
-Not by returning what we lost in the realm of loved ones, time, or opportunities. But through God’s lens of perfect love and wisdom, He heals us by allowing our scope to widen, our understanding to evolve, and our vision to more closely align with His.

Healing is then able to be seen as we become more in line with the version of ourselves God needs us to be – more perfected in Him and in the ways He sees fit.

I saw some stadium lights lit in the early evening hours a few weeks ago.
The sight took me back to the week my son came out onto the football field through the tunnel with his team following his initial injury. The smell of fresh popcorn, the sound of the pep band, and the clamor and excitement of the crowd were all muffled by my thoughts. He was in street clothes holding a football in one hand and a DB clipboard in the other. His season moving forward was that of a peer coach.

As I reflected on this experience the other day- I charted the timeline again. The initial injury sent us to the doctor. It was a season-ending injury and completely unrelated to the tumor. The tumor was found by chance and then deemed inexplicable.
I won’t be gifted God’s eyes on “this” in mortality. But my “Mom eyes” tear up with gratitude.
I’m grateful for a God who knows what type of healing we need as we sojourn through this seemingly hectic world. And I’m grateful for a son who thought to make a deal with God and is clearly seeing God’s promise of compensation play out in unexpected ways.

As I look at my son’s leg today- it’s the same as ever- no visual evidence. There are no bandaids or bandages that were ever part of his healing in any literal sense.

But his heart, his Spirit, and his mind are covered in bandaids and bandages that God placed there for healing. What was replaced in healing was a bit of God’s lens as to how He needed my son to show up for Him. Then…and now.

What will you accept and expect regarding healing in your own life?
Would you benefit from spending time rethinking how you see healing…and the accompanying bandaids and bandages…?

-JC

Gluten Free Chocolate Chip Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg + 1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 ⅔ cups 1-for-1 gluten free flour (I use Gold Medal Oat Flour)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon corn starch
1 ½  cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 385 degrees. Cream butter and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in egg+ egg yolk and vanilla; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 1- 2 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Stir in chocolate chips. Scoop out approximately 18- 2” balls of dough.  Gently roll. For a richer flavor and smoother texture, form cookie dough balls, flatten slightly and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake.  Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet. Bake at 385 degrees for 12+ min. Let set. Share!