The Box Called Tomorrow

The word sits like a hot coal in my mind. It burns through all my defenses. No matter how many boxes I try to put around it, it breaks out and lands right beside me. For right now, I'm putting it in a box called tomorrow, far away from today. Please, stay there.

Rewind two weeks ago: I had gone to USC for a visit with my doctor, and she found a diagnosis - Job's syndrome. It's extraordinarily rare and also incurable, but definitely something that can be controlled. The downside is that it is connected to two forms of cancer. I was tested for one of those two weeks ago. I should get the results tomorrow. That's also the word (cancer) that burns through my mind. I have a ridiculously dramatic imagination.

Today, I found myself jumping every time the phone rings. I check the caller ID - if it's not USC, I put the phone down with a lot less enthusiasm than when I picked it up. It's silly, I know. Then I realized. I just have to laugh it off, hug whatever sibling is closest to me (there's a bunch of them), and go on with life. Let worry keep itself company.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll find out I do have cancer. Or maybe the sky will fall and dragons will populate the earth. My worrying will not change what comes tomorrow. I could spend a lot of time wondering what could happen, but what will happen is ordained by the Lord of the universe. I'm going to rest in that. And with His grace, I'll also take joy in it.

For now, there's a beautiful sunset. Stars will come out. And the Lord was, is, and always shall be faithful, holy, and sovereign over everything. Even that box of "Tomorrow".