Infusion day. Been putting it off because my body is still reeling from the last one. Creeps me out that my infusionist must don this immensely protective garb just to handle the chemo chemicals, so not a drop gets on HER delicate skin, but feels fine about pumping a whole stinkin’ bagful of the toxic stuff directly into MY helpless body! Ahhhhh!!!! God, I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up when this last 3 months of chemo are done. Maybe I can locate Micheal Jackson’s hyperbaric sleep capsule to hibernate in? Maybe if I conceptualize it as “bonking” or “hitting the wall” in an endurance race, I can “carb up” for the home stretch. Hmmm… what would that carb concoction be? Let’s see… pulling up the cud of Your past faithfulness to ruminate on in the present. Chewing on the promises of Your Word for an infusion of hope. Fixing my eyes on You Jesus, “who for the joy set before You, endured the cross, despising the shame.” I/we were that joy! If You could go through so much pain for me, what’s a little poison pumped into my body for You? Remind me that it is indeed for You. Mission trip in action. Your reputation on the line in how I respond. You had no “protective gear” on the cross to insulate You from the infusion of sin You allowed to pour into Your body… so as these toxins pour into me, also infuse me with Your tenacity and surrender to Your Father’s larger Plan for good.