I backed out of the parking space. My shoulders tensed as I white-knuckled the steering wheel.
Through clenched teeth I murmured, “God, You were good yesterday. You are good today. You will be good tomorrow.”
I needed to hear the words. I needed to remember that the unexpected phone call and the unfolding reality changed nothing about the goodness of God. I repeated the words over and over on my way to the hospital.
Life may have shifted from standard to uncertain in seconds, but God’s goodness remained constant. Circumstances couldn’t—cannot—change it.
Almost two weeks later, I see the increased effects of Dad’s brain tumor diagnosis.
The man with perfect writing can barely use his right hand. He can’t grip a pen. He can’t direct his fingers to the desired letters on a keyboard. He can’t pick up his grandchildren. He eats left-handed. I put his watch on for him and clean his glasses. He wears slip-on shoes to avoid tying laces.
The man with a sonorous bass sat in the congregation on Good Friday instead of in the choir. He slowly shapes slurred words.
The man with a servant’s heart has been banished from helping with dishes in the kitchen or tearing down tables after a party. Instead he hears, “What are you doing? Do you need help? I’ll do that.”
Yet, God is good.
He was good before the tumor was present. He was good when the tumor arrived without symptoms. He was good when the growth and swelling began interfering with normalcy. He is good as we wait for surgical intervention. And He will be good regardless of the clinical outcome.
I roll my tense shoulders back and down. I try to slow my rapid, shallow breaths. Life may not feel good. Life may not be good.
But God is good.
Note: This was written early in the week prior to Dad’s appointment with the neurosurgeon Wednesday morning. After two days taking steroids to reduce the swelling, his speech is nearing normal and his hand is not normal but has regained some function. He has a tentative surgery date of Monday, May 1. We appreciate your prayers in the waiting.
Kristen, We love your dad and the entire Hartman beyond words! Please know that Dan, Taylor and I will be falling before the throne of the Great Healer, asking Him to eradicate this tumor so it and its effects are no more! We’ll also be praying for peace. Love you.
Thank you, Mary Ann! Love you, too, and greatly appreciate your prayers.
Kristen, we love you and your family so much and are praying for each of you during this difficult time. May you all experience God’s love and peace in a new way. Praying earnestly that the tumor may be totally eradicated with no side effects. Thank you for the reminder that God is good in all circumstances! Hugs and❣️
Thank you, Joyce! We so appreciate your love, prayers and amazing friendship. It’s a huge comfort to know we are not walking through this alone!
Oh, Kristen, my heart aches for you and your family as you face yet another crisis. Yes, God is good, always, and He will see you through time this as well. We are praying for a successful surgery and complete healing. We love you all so much!
Thank you, Carol! We love you (and Doug), too. We’re grateful for your prayers!!
I have no words for you and your Mom and Dad. Know I am praying and you will be in my thoughts continually.
Thanks, Aunt Joyce! The steroids are really helping, so that’s been a tremendous boost the past few days. Dad’s as sweet and gracious as ever, but we’ll all feel better when the tumor is out. Love you!!
Kristen, know you are on my heart during this unexpected season. Yes, God is good and I ask for healing and an acute awareness of His love and nearness to you all during this time. Much, much love friend, debbie
Thank you, Debbie (and thank you for your sweet note a few weeks back)!
Praying, praying, trusting, hoping. Thank you for “letting us in” one more time.