Snapshots of a Mother’s Cancer Experience — Pt. 11: A Weight Lifted
When I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer in 2000, I came face-to-face with my own mortality—and learned some profound lessons that transformed my view of reality. I would never sign up for my cancer experience, but neither would I trade away the treasures mined from it.
Above all, I learned to live with the awareness that we all really do have an impending, inescapable appointment awaiting us. We all have an appointment with God. No matter how busy or distracted we are or how distant that appointment may seem, one telephone call can change everything.
My call came when I was a 40-year-old mother of two preschool children and a happily married wife. The following post is Part 11 in “Snapshots of a Mother’s Cancer Experience,” a series that chronicles my journey through diagnosis, surgery, and beyond. (You can find a chronological list of the previous Snapshots here.)
2000
Tuesday, August 1
I try not to make a habit of it—flipping open the Bible and reading the first verse I see. Years ago, when I became curious about the claim that I could know God through reading the Bible (if He really existed, that is), He often spoke to me in this way. (Oh, the stories I could tell!)
Later, when I committed my life to Jesus, I also committed myself to reading the Bible from cover-to-cover. I’ve read through it several times now.
And yet, there have been days when I find myself craving intimate contact with Him … and sometimes I still randomly flip and hope. I recognize it’s a dangerous practice—and I don’t recommend it. It’s so easy to read a verse out-of-context and misunderstand the message. For instance, today I landed on Numbers 35:9-11. The message is disturbing, (and I’m not sure it is from Him):
Then the LORD said to Moses:
“Speak to the Israelites and say to them:
‘When you cross the Jordan into Canaan,
select some towns to be your cities of refuge,
to which a person who has killed someone accidentally may flee…”
Hmm…. Is death by surgical error equivalent to involuntary manslaughter?
It’s 8 p.m. As I talk with Dr. T, our concrete porch stoop feels rough and cold beneath me. He returned my call after seeing his last patient. I had a few questions, but now I take a risk and tell him about this verse. A jet roars across the still bright sky. I press the cordless telephone to my ear as I strain to hear him.
“I hope it’s just a coincidence,” he replies. Then he adds that he plans to assist the oncologist with my surgery. He says he respects my faith. He says that he couldn’t do what he does without Jesus. I believe him and wonder…
Without the tender strength of Jesus, how does a doctor face an expectant mother and tell her that her baby’s heart has stopped beating…? Or tell a mother of preschool children that she has cancer?
A red Fisher Price toddler swing dangles from our maple tree. There’s a bald patch worn in the grass beneath it. The air is humid.
I swat at winged predators, punctuating our telephone conversation with an occasional slap. Along with mosquitoes, I swat away a sense of guilt for leaving my loyal friend Patty so long alone inside our townhouse with my boys (though Roger Dean and Ryan love her, and she loves them). She joins us for dinner most Tuesdays. When Dr. T called tonight, I stepped outside to escape interruptions, but I didn’t expect to talk this long….
My right ear swells; I shift the telephone to my left ear. In this momentary reprieve from worldly demands, with my own mortality coming into focus before me, one thing becomes increasingly clear. While in this world, it is crucial that I communicate—with all the joy and passion of a fiancee on the eve of her wedding day—the distinctive details of my relationship with Jesus. We discuss His heavenly promises.
Then Something Changed
Ten o’clock approaches, and Roger isn’t home yet. He is at church, rehearsing with the worship team for the midweek service. I tuck the boys in bed, kiss them good-night, and join Patty at the kitchen table.
We eat ice cream together and, suddenly, something feels different. Something has shifted. I try to explain it to Patty. “I can’t quite describe it … but something has definitely changed,” I marvel and smile between spoonfuls of Starbucks Java Chip. “It’s like a weight lifted….”
* * *
2000
Wednesday, August 2
Maggie’s Message
Wednesday morning arrives. While the boys dismantle their bedroom, I check my email. The first message came from my friend Maggie.
She writes that she prayed for me and believes the Lord wanted her to tell me, in keeping with Psalm 116, that I will be completely healed, and I will raise my boys, and I will be with Roger for many years to come.
If I had received these words before I put the boys to bed last night, I would’ve politely acknowledged her good intentions—yet sadly admitted, at least to myself, that her words didn’t align with what Roger and I had been “hearing.”
But something changed late last night—and now certain verses from the psalm she shared resonate deeply within me:
I love the Lord because he hears my prayers and answers them. Because he bends down and listens, I will pray as long as I breathe!
Death stared me in the face—I was frightened and sad. Then I cried, “Lord, save me.” How kind he is! How good he is! So merciful, this God of ours!
The Lord protects the simple and the childlike. I was facing death and then he saved me. Now I can relax. For the Lord has done this wonderful miracle for me. He has saved me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. I shall live! Yes, in his presence—here on earth!
In my discouragement I thought, “They are lying when they say I will recover.” But now what can I offer [Jesus] for all he has done for me?…
His loved ones are very precious to him and he does not lightly let them die…
Psalm 116 (LB)
Maggie concluded her email with, “I pray I am following the Lord’s leading. Please take this message in His love and Spirit. He will never forsake you.”
With awe, I note the time stamp on her post: 8/1/00 9:52 p.m. Patty and I “just happened” to finish our ice cream last night at 10 p.m.
♥ ♥ ♥
Do you have a story to tell about a time God spoke to you through His Word? We would love to hear it. Share your story below, and come back next Monday to read the next Snapshot.
