I’ve only driven a few times using a GPS.  It’s interesting being told what to do by this robot voice, “Left turn 100 yards”, “Merge into right lane”, “Continue straight at divide.”  When you’re driving to someplace unfamiliar, there’s a certain comfort in knowing that SOMEONE (ok, someTHING) knows what the heck you’re supposed to be doing!  It doesn’t even faze the gizmo if you take a wrong turn. It just calmly says, “Recalculating…. Recalculating…”  and plots a new route to get you to your destination.  (At least, you hope that’s where you end up…)

Back in October, my daughter was diagnosed with placenta previa, a condition which can lead to months of bed rest, at home or in the hospital, or premature delivery.   Since she already has a 4 yo and 2 yo, either result would mean needing a good deal of help.  So, I cleared my calendar of all engagements that I could for the foreseeable future so I would be available come what may. 

Recalculating.

Then in November, a new ultrasound showed that as the uterus had been expanding, it had taken the placenta up the wall completely away from the cervix.  All risk was now gone and she was kicked back to her mid-wife with an ok for the birthing center birth they had planned on.

Recalculating. 

Then on December 5^th, my mom was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer.   The initial guesstimated timeline, just from seeing cancer cells in the fluid drained from the pleural sac, was 4-6 months.  Imaging determined that Mama has a large tumor in her right lung, a small one in her temporal lobe in her brain, and bone cancer in two ribs and in her mid-spine.  Yikes.  That was worse than the first doctor even knew, leaving us to wonder if the estimate was too generous.  The tumor in her lung caused the sac around her lung to fill with fluid at such a rate that we were taking her to the hospital to have a liter plus drained every 4 to 5 days.  4 – 6 months was looking generous.

Recalculating.

Then it was determined that she was a candidate for a targeted drug called Tarceva.  (The biggest advancement in cancer treatment of the last few years is that they can test the cancer itself for certain genetic mutations that indicate specific vulnerabilities in the cancer.  Drugs have been designed to exploit those vulnerabilities.  It’s the difference between a sniper’s bullet and a bomb.  Traditional chemo kills not only cancer cells, but healthy cells as well.  Targeted drugs kill pretty much only cancer cells, and thus cause many fewer, and less toxic, side effects.)  It wouldn’t be a cure.  There IS no curing Stage IV lung cancer.  (Not by man, I mean.)  The cancer would, sooner or later, mutate around the drug, but it would buy Mama some time and a better quality of life for a while.  The Tarceva began to take effect within days, reducing the fluid fill rate drastically.  She began regaining energy and appetite, and had more days of feeling more like her old self.  The timeline was extended to possibly as long as a year.    

Recalculating.

The drug began causing a nasty side effect to the skin on her face, drying it out terribly, especially around her eyes, causing them the sting and burn horribly and constantly.  Unbearable.   The doctor lowered the dose, which helped a little, but the effect on her eyes was still too much.  The dose was to  be lowered again, and if it still caused the side effect, or if it didn’t cause the side effect but wasn’t effective against the cancer, Mama would just stop it and let things go their course.

Recalculating.

But Mama hasn’t started taking the lower dose yet.  Last Sunday, two days before the supply of the lower dose arrived, she started having severe nausea and vomiting, a headache hitting suddenly then disappearing, and severe back pain, such that she ended up in the ER Tuesday night.  Other than getting IV hydration, the trip was a bust and she went home feeling worse than when she went in.  When she saw the oncologist on Wednesday, Dr. P said the symptoms indicate that the brain tumor hasn’t been affected by the Tarceva; it must have kept growing all this time.  New drugs have been added to combat the nausea and the pain, and so far are doing very well.  She is going to have a single, high dose of radiation on her ribs, the probable cause of her back pain, which should eliminate that issue.  She has had another MRI on her head and we’ll learn next week what it showed of the tumor there. 

If the symptoms are because the tumor is growing, she probably won’t attempt any treatment it, since brain radiation carries side effect risks about as bad as the tumor itself – and still wouldn’t be more than a stopgap measure.  And she isn’t restarting the Tarceva, either, until we know what’s up with the brain tumor.  There would be no point to keeping the lung cancer at bay to prolong her life while the brain cancer is working so hard to end it.

Recalculating.  Recalculating.

Life is full of recalculating for all of us.  We think we’ve got that new job all locked up… and then they hire someone else.  We expect to be in the job we have until we retire… and we get pink-slipped.  We’re finally getting ahead on saving some money… and the car breaks down.  We’re just starting to set the nursery up for the new baby, choosing a name, figuring out how we’ll deal with time off work and juggling day care …. and Mama goes into labor 3 months early with preeclampsia.  A tree lands through the roof. Of course, most recalculations aren’t as dramatic.  We plan to go grocery shopping, but have to take the dog to the vet instead.  Plan to spend the afternoon doing a blog post, and the computer crashes.  (Yep, getting personal there.)   Wake up with a migraine.  Forgot to charge the phone, so it dies.  Some days it just feels like life took a wrong turn, doesn’t it?  Sometimes it seems we don’t go two blocks straight in a row before we’re hanging a left or ducking into an alley!  Sometimes what we thought was a side street turns out to be a freeway on-ramp.  Sometimes we find ourselves stuck in a parking lot

Recalculating. 

Most folks driving with a GPS can recount times when theirs gave them a wrong direction.  I’ve read stories of folks who’ve gotten into horrendous accidents by too blindly following their Garmin.  You still have to use some common sense about using one.  Just because the GPS says to turn left doesn’t mean we turn left if that means turning the wrong way on a one way street!  No GPS is 100% reliable. 

If we’re honest, I think many of us would have to admit that some of the time we harbor distrust of God that HE might not be altogether reliable, either.  When our life direction takes what feels like a “wrong turn”, when we end up in a creepy canyon, a dreary desert, or a challenging cliff, we tend to question God’s purpose and intent.  We question His guidance, His provision, His very goodness.  Some of us, to our shame, are even suspicious of the pleasant paths – a winding, wooded drive, a picnic in the park, or a beautiful beach.  We impugn God’s nature by wondering when the other shoe is going to drop, sure that the nice scenery is simply a sucker punch.

Starting with the 2 x4 upside the head on the Damascus road, Paul faced a LOT of recalculations in his life.  It’s probably fair to say that few of us can match his resume.  When writing to his dear friends at Philippi, he had this to say about it all:  “I know how to abase and how to abound, how to be in plenty and in want.”  It seems strange to think of “how to abound” or “how to be in plenty”.  I mean, those things are easy to do, right?  Let the good times roll!  But Paul makes clear that the one situation is really no different than the other.  Abasing or abounding, being in plenty or in want, both require the same response lest we be in danger of letting our situation define us, rather than the other way around.  Paul could face any recalculation with equal equanimity because he had learned the ONE constant:  “I can do all things through Christ Who gives me strength.”  He knew Who was his GPS.

We should be “doing” the good times through Christ’s strength just as much as we “do” the hard times, because ALL times are equal tools in His hands for conforming us to His image.   We should be as ready to accept from God’s hand pay raise or pay cut, health or illness, the fruition of the hopes we cherish – or the death of them.   Not that we don’t honestly acknowledge the pain or difficulty of some situations, but that we don’t let that pain fool us into thinking that it’s greater than we can bear – greater, in fact, than God is.  Nor do we let the pleasantness of some situations lull us into a false sense of security or promise, as if the fact that things are “good” now means they will continue so.  “Good” times, “bad” times – all times are simply God times, to be gotten through focused on Him, not on the situation.

We would be fools to place implicit, complete trust in a man-made GPS.  We are greater fools to place anything BUT implicit, complete trust in our God.  No matter how many times the route of our life seems to be recalculating, we can rest quite assured that we ARE on our way to the correct destination, and that God knows just how to get us there. 

Our GPS – God Positioning System – will never steer us wrong.