It was a usual hot summer Monday morning … looking at my list of “to-do’s” for the day, and getting ready to head out the door. This day I was taking our fur babies to get groomed. Dropped off one, then returned to take our baby fur-baby (“Snowball”) to the vet to get checked out. He just hadn’t been himself lately.
I told the vet staff Snowball had not been eating, was lethargic, and may have lost weight. I wasn’t prepared for the large amount of weight he had dropped (13 pounds). He had no fever, and then they took bloodwork. It was not good. He had heartworms, which in and of itself is treatable. The alarming news, however, was the state of his anemia. His platelet level was so low it didn’t even register. A physical exam followed.
They felt Snowball’s stomach and grew concerned since it was so stiff. After an ultrasound, they confirmed he had a tumor in the liver/spleen region and it was large. At this point, I knew Snowball had a life-threatening condition. I called my husband to come to the clinic. We conferred with the veterinarian. Snowball would need at least one or more infusions just to get started. Then he would have to undergo surgery to remove the mass. If it only affected the spleen, that could be removed. However, the liver poses higher risks. All of these procedures are specialty veterinary skills not available to us in rural areas. Hubby and I knew we didn’t want Snowball to suffer, so we made the decision to end his suffering. We were crying like babies. Snowball was family. We loved on him, told him goodbye, then started grieving. All of this happened unexpectedly, suddenly … we didn’t plan for this to happen. We were not ready. In fact, we are never ready.
During our grief process, I remembered other times in life when I was not ready for what happened. I remember receiving the phone call on a Saturday morning in 1975. My older brother had been killed in an accident during a hunting trip. Then I remembered friends who were killed suddenly in a head-on collision. None of us expect these tragedies and none of us are never ready.
The thought of the unexpected can be frightening and, at times, debilitating. Nevertheless, our Savior has commanded us to not be afraid, even when the unexpected storms of life are raging around us. To not be afraid is often easier to articulate than to put into practice. Fortunately, He has also promised us that “if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.”
Despite the unexpected storms of life, we can draw hope from Him and anchor ourselves in three truths:
1. The storm is never outside God’s control. Jesus didn’t sleep because He was indifferent to the disciples’ plight. Instead, He held a calm trust that flowed from His divine dominion over creation. Indeed, He commands this power over every tempest we face. All things fall under His sovereign protection and watchful care — including your storm.
2. The storm won’t last forever. It may feel like calm will never come again. But just as physical thunderstorms surely pass, so Jesus will bring us through our storms. Jesus spoke peace over the wind and waves, bringing them to a standstill. Today, He speaks that same peace into your storm. His peace is your inheritance, even in the midst of rough waters.
3. The storm can deepen our faith. Our storms inflict pain, but they also churn up false beliefs, idols and other hindrances to our sanctification. With these obstacles removed, faith can flourish, and trust can deepen. Our eyes may see only wreckage, but God sees His tireless work of redemption on our behalf. On the Sea of Galilee, Jesus used the storm to call His disciples into a life of deeper trust. From the eye of the storm, He calls us into the same.
When we feel battered by the storm and Jesus appears silent, it helps to cling to these truths and allow the truths to persevere its work in us.
Jesus, thank You for being the anchor in our storm. Help us to fiercely cling to You. May we grow in faith as we wait for calm to come again. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
Debby Efurd is co-founder of Cary John Efurd Ministries of Pittsburg, TX. She has been a contributor to Bound for Life and written numerous articles published in LifeNews, Christian Post and the Baptist Standard, and is the author of Go Tell It! Debby can be contacted at caryjohnefurdinistries@gmail.com. Visit her at the Second Mile blog at https://debbyefurd.com.
Tagged: dogs, grief and loss, Jesus, Texas weather, trusting God
