Two years later.

We took a pre-surgery selfie. I cry every time I see it. Barrett wanted the tumor out of my head the second he learned of it—recognizing it for what it was. An intruder. One that would eventually kill me. Surgery day couldn’t come fast enough for him. I, quite honestly, was happy with it in there. I knew life with it. Life after it’s removal was what I feared. And this picture perfectly represents and reminds me of that inner turmoil. When I look at that pre-surgery me, I’m sad for her. Because everything she feared (except death) came true. She had every reason to fear this side of surgery. That poor thing.

Every anniversary I get inundated with sad feelings. I do an inventory of my post surgery handicaps and mourn what once was. I fell asleep last night making a mental list of everything hard I deal with as a result of this event two years ago. That’s what I’ll do with the recap, I thought. Make sure no one has forgotten. Make sure everyone still cares.

I suspect it has something to do with renewed morning mercies (or the conviction of self absorption), but when it came time to write down my thoughts on the last two years, I knew I’d be doing myself the biggest disservice on this anniversary to dwell on the hardships of recovery, knowing the value in the spiritual growth I’ve seen far outweigh it.

It has not been easy. The last two years have been the HARDEST of my life. But in the last two years I’ve never prayed more, read more, learned more, grown more, trusted God more, treasured God more, craved God more or loved God more. I like this list far more than the one running through my head last night.

So sure, the girl in the picture had everything to lose, but she had no idea how much she’d gain.

“…I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” Philippians‬ ‭3:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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