Prayers for a Man That May Not Exist

Today marks ten months since my first seizure and the discovery of my brain tumor. A lot has happened in those ten months. A lot. You all have been witnesses to that, whether up close or from afar.

When I look to the past months or to the yet-unknown future months and years, you know what strikes a nerve faster than anything else and immediately brings tears to my eyes at just the thought? (I mean, I just moved the box of tissues closer to me, and there's already a small pile of snotty ones next to that because those tears are already in full swing). It's a question I have asked myself often in these months:

Who is going to want to marry a girl who has cancer for the rest of her life? Who is going to want to live with that kind of uncertainty in his spouse?

It brings tears to my eyes and feels so tender and vulnerable just to write it out, to put it before this small corner of the world that reads these words. 

I remember going to an online support group shortly after the April surgery. I really wasn't sure what to expect. There were maybe 30-40 people. All ages, all different brain cancers, all different stages in their diagnosis and treatment process. As I logged off, I was hit with a startling realization, which at the time included some mental expletives, which I will refrain from using here. I realized I had adopted a short-term view of the circumstances - Just get through the next 14 months, then I'll be done and can move on with life - but where the mental expletives came into play is when I realized this isn't just about the next 14 months.

This is about the rest of my life.

Regular scans to check for any growth or changes, regular check ups with a neuro-oncologist, moments left wondering whether an ailment or symptom really means something more significant is brewing beneath the surface. 

Who is going to want to marry a girl who has cancer for the rest of her life?

As I was driving home from work today, I was reflecting on all that has happened these last ten months. I was also listening to a sermon preached by Louie Giglio back on December 26, 2013. (For you Apple folks, you can find it here.) I've listened to this sermon (it's the third part in a series of three messages) probably every year during Advent since he first preached it eleven years ago. His words have always resonated. But today? They landed differently today. He talks about trials in this life. We know Jesus the Messiah came once and we know he is coming again, but in the middle there's waiting and trials. There's a key statement he makes that helped tremendously in answering my own question about an unknown future husband: 

God is not primarily interested today in making our lives easier. 

He's primarily interested today in making our lives matter.

I realized something in that moment, not for the first time, however: 

I want my life to matter more than I want to be married.  

I'll be okay if I never have a husband, but I won't be okay if I don't have Jesus.   

I don't know if God will so ordain in his wisdom that a man should come along and answer my question and say, "Me. I'm the one who will take the girl with cancer for the rest of her life." 

But should God choose to send such a member of the male species along, then I do have a three specific things I am praying for the guy that decides to answer that question in the affirmative because I want his life to matter, too:

I pray he is a man of God's Word. This is my chief prayer. I want him to love the Bible. (And I want to be a woman who loves the Bible, too.) He doesn't need to be a scholar or a theologian. (I'm a seminary dropout myself.) He doesn't need to have memorized the entire book of Colossians or James or Ephesians (I can barely remember what I did two seconds ago, so I'm in no place to judge), but I want him to be a man in love with the Word of God, someone who is familiar with it, well-acquainted with its pages. I want to know that the man I'm with is actively moving toward the Word with regularity and intentionality, choosing to wrap his life in its pages.

I pray he is a man of his word. I want him to be the kind of man who keeps his promises. I want him to be the kind of man who shows up when he says he's going to show up, the kind of man who honors his commitments, whether big or small, come hell or high water. The kind of man who is going to sit with me in appointments and take me to regular scans. Again, I'm not seeking perfection, but I want someone who is faithful to his promises. 

I pray he is a man of words. Allow me to state the obvious: I love words. They matter a great deal to me. Words are in my nature. I have kept journals for the last twenty-seven years, and have had this blog for nearly sixteen years. I haven't been penning all these words because I thought somebody would read them or because I was trying to build a brand or a platform or make a name for myself. Writing and reading represent some of the deepest parts of my identity. I pray the man I marry would at the very least have an appreciation for words (I'm not saying I want him to be a chatty Cathy, though, either. I know, picky, picky.) He doesn't need to be a bookworm or a bibliophile or the world's greatest writer of love letters. (Although, I would certainly relish it if he were the world's greatest writer of love letters).

I can't see into the future (thank God because I think if I had seen brain cancer coming I would have likely opted out) to know if there is someone to answer the question that is so tender to my heart these days, but even if there isn't, I will still say that I want my life to matter more than I want to be married.

I'll be okay if I never have a husband, but I won't be okay if I don't have Jesus. 

I want my life to matter. And that can happen with or without a husband. 

But it can't happen without Jesus.