March was a big month for me. 

My job contract was coming to an end, and though bittersweet, I was mostly excited. It had been a grueling two years and I yearned for rest.

Hubs and I sat down together in early March to discuss my plan for the remainder of the year. 

• April: rest! 
• Summer: quality family time. invest in developing my art and spend more time experimenting in the kitchen 
• Fall: open an etsy shop and see if it’s something worth investing in long-term
• Next spring: possibly prepare for bar exam

Ah. March was a month of dreams. A field of dreams.

Six months later, fall blows brown into our yard and here we are, in a house ruled by cancer. 

It came out of left field, blind-sighting our little family of three as we ran around knee-deep in the wild flowers that covered our field of dreams. 

I mourn the life and dreams we had to leave behind to fight cancer full-time.  All the time off J’s work for the never-ending appointments; all the back-to-school events my body wouldn’t allow me to attend; all the medication and supplements, face masks, hand sanitizer, medical bills strewn around the house; all the hours spent in bed staring at my ceiling, unable to move; all the strands of my long, dark hair on my pillow, carpet, clothes, bathroom tile that just won’t quit. 

All of it seems like one enormous waste. 

Several months ago, when the doorframes  and foundation of our lives started crumbling around us, I holed myself in the house and spent a chunk of each day crying. On one of those days, I sat in my room with my knees hugged tight to my chest as a song I’d never heard gently tiptoed in through my speakers.

The hurt that broke your heart
And left you trembling in the dark
Feeling lost and alone
Will tell you hope’s a lie
But what if every tear you cry
Will seed the ground where joy will grow

Nothing is wasted
Nothing is wasted
In the hands of our Redeemer
Nothing is wasted

It’s from the deepest wounds
That beauty finds a place to bloom
And you will see before the end
That every broken piece is
Gathered in the heart of Jesus
And what’s lost will be found again

Nothing is wasted
Nothing is wasted
In the hands of our Redeemer
Nothing is wasted

When hope is more than you can bear
And it’s too hard to believe it could be true
And your strength fails you halfway there
You can lean on me and I’ll believe for you
And in time you will believe it too

Nothing is wasted
Nothing is wasted
Sometimes we are waiting
In sorrow we have tasted
But joy will replace it
Nothing is wasted
In the hands of our Redeemer
Nothing is wasted*

These beautifully woven words moved me deeply. My trickle of sadness turned into a rushing current of sorrow subterranean twisted with hope effervescent.  A flood of tears.  I remember. I clung to the words I did not fully understand but had faith to be true and I accepted its warm embrace. That is faith, isn’t it? Gripping white-knuckled the truth of what we hope for, even when we do not understand.

As I sit here now surveying the rubble around me, I remember this truth, and hope returns.

Nothing is wasted. 

—–

*Jason Gray, Nothing is Wasted.