Exodus 2:4-8

His sister stood at a distance to know what would be done to him. Now the daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her young women walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her servant woman, and she took it. When she opened it she saw the child, and behold the baby was crying. She took pity on him and said, “This is one of the Hebrew’s children. Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and call you a nurse from the Hebrew woman to nurse the child for you?” And Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Go.” 


About 10 years ago my sister was diagnosed with colon cancer. She had surgery and chemo and radiation. We all went on our happy way for the next 7 years when the cancer came back in her sacrum bone. More radiation, more chemo. And then it came back in her iliac area. More radiation. And then a prolapsed mitral valve and heart surgery. And then an inflammation in her eyes which caused her to lose sight for a few months. And then drop foot so that she cannot walk without a walker and even then she cannot feel her foot. But she can feel pain.

And now they have found that the cancer has spread to her lungs.
Two small spots. 
She’s tired. 
I can identify with Miriam.
I feel as if I am standing at a distance. I know I cannot travel with her and yet I need to be sure that she is okay. I know that ultimately she is alone in the basket but I need to run along the riverbank beside her until she comes to rest in a place where she will be cared for. 

I want to jump in that horrible river and snatch her out of that damn basket and bring her up to the bank and be girls again playing with mud pies. And be old together watching our families grow.
But I can’t. So I stand in the distance...

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  1. Oh, my heart sank as I read the litany of suffering your sister has endured.
    And now this.
    I am so sorry.
    It is a brave act to be Miriam on the bank, and I honor your commitment. Please keep us in the loop here so we can pray along with you .

  2. Cancer is such a hard journey and demands courage and fortitude for both the patient and also, for the family. May God be with you all as your sister continues on in the days ahead, providing you all with everything you need. Praying this morning for you both.

  3. Oh so sorry to read that. It is heartbreaking. I can only imagine the agony for both you and her and all the families. If only all illnesses could be abolished. Will pray for your families. Many hugs sweet lady.

  4. Watching a loved one suffer is such a horribly, helpless feeling. My prayers are with you and your sister this morning.

  5. Hello my dear. You know, we went to a cancer retreat for patients and their family members. There were a few "double winners" - those who were/are patients and had also been a caregiver/family member of a cancer patient. They said that it was so much more difficult to be a caregiver/family member than a patient.
    I weep with you. I pray with you. I wills storm the gates of heaven for you and your family. You and yours will remain in my heart and in God's ear as so many will be praying for you.
    Blessings, strength and courage to you all.

  6. I'm so sorry to hear about the many trials your sister has already faced. Your steadfast commitment to watching over her as much as you can must be a great comfort to her. Your word picture is beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm praying for you both.

  7. Oh, I love your Photography. It's very unique and always tells a story.



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