Warrior

Yesterday before church, one of the prayer warriors of the congregation, a man half my height with a spirit of fire twice as bright as anything I've ever experienced, told me that he plans to fast on my behalf every Tuesday throughout my cancer treatment.

My first thought was alarm -- I'm not worthy of this! It's too much and too undeserved. And I hardly know this gentleman!

"Oh," I stumbled, "You don't need to do that for me."
He grabbed my arm and said ferociously in his clipped Filipino accent, "Yes. I must. And I will."
"Um, thanks."
How does one respond to that? I felt like a spiritual lightweight. When have I ever fasted on someone else's behalf? When have I ever fasted?? Man, I love eating.

But, as I walked into church, I was even more blown away by a quick revelation: if I am awed that a human would fast on my behalf, how much more awe-inspiring is it that a perfect God would die on my behalf? It's shocking, unexpected, almost ludicrous.

Romans 5:7 says, Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Just think about it and be amazed. No other religion has a God, a perfect and creative and all-powerful God, who is willing to sacrifice himself on behalf of completely undeserving-to-be-rescued, and even often undesiring-to-be-rescued, sinful people. We are not worthy and never can be, even after a lifetime of pursuing a Christlike heart.

It makes me feel almost giddy to accept such a gift. 

Milking It

Dialog #1.
Husband, moaning: My head hurts. I think it's my sinuses. And I'm so tired.
Me with feigned indifferent: Whatever. It's not like you have cancer.

Dialog #2:
Son: Hey! Who ate the whole bag of M&Ms?
Me: I did. Because I have cancer.

Dialog #3:
Me: Could someone please take out the garbage? I can't because I--
Husband, Son, and Daughter: WE KNOW, WE KNOW. Because you have cancer.
Me: Well, actually, because I'm cooking dinner right now. But, you're right. Cancer patients shouldn't have to take out the garbage. Thanks!

Family Feud Category: Things That Grow Inside You

The ultrasound looking for cancer brought back vivid memories of other times I had lain on that table, looking at the images of Baby Huckle and Baby Sally growing in me. I found myself nonsensically scanning the screen for a beating heart, even though the probe was nowhere near my abdomen. And, obviously not seeing any beating heart, it struck me all over again why I was there. It was chilling, literally (you know what I mean if you've had one of those probes run across your naked flesh) and figuratively.

Oddly enough, the experiences have some things in common besides the technology used to image them. Both were experiences of heart-pounding anticipation and of having a secret inside me that would rock my world and the worlds of people who love me. Both were mysteriously growing inside me and using my metabolic energy to feed themselves.

And obviously that's where the differences end: one was a sweet baby, desired and already loved. The other was cancer, dreaded and detested.

You Know Your Problem Is Serious When...

... the head pastor calls to pray with you.

Chariots of Fire

It's a Bible story about which you may have not given any thought since your Sunday school days. It's one of those great "in your face, you idol worshipers!" stories from the book of 2 Kings: God blinds the vengeful enemy army and Elisha leads them into the middle of the main Israelite city. When the confused soldiers' eyes are opened, they are not surrounded and killed by the Israelites (as they can planned to do to the Israelites) but they are wined and dined and sent on their merry (still confused) way.

That's the story we taught last Sunday to our very wiggly 1st grade class. It's a fun one to teach.

There is one part of the story that had come to my mind several times before preparing the lesson, and that's the part way at the beginning (pre-blinding) about Elisha's terrified servant, seeing the enemy army with their horses and chariots surrounding their city. A calm Elisha prays that God will open the servant's eyes, and suddenly the servant can see "the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha."

Sometimes over the past few weeks I've felt like Elisha's servant. I've felt as if I've had my eyes opened to see beyond normality. I see purpose where others might only see meaninglessness or bad karma, I see a plan where others might think chaos reigns.

Last year was tough by any human's standards. But the life outcome of the pain was even better than the pre-pain life -- I was blessed beyond imagining -- and Lesson #1 was this: don't trust in others, trust only in God. Others may betray you, but God never will.

Cancer is a word that strikes fear in most people's hearts. But I feel as if my eyes have already been opened to Lesson #2: don't trust in yourself, trust only in God. Your body may betray you, but God never will.
It's a logical progression and beautiful plan. But it will be a tough lesson. I am used to being healthy and able and active and self-sufficient. My strong sense of self is what my friend Carolyn would call a 'stronghold' in my life. I need to find my identity in Christ, not in my body or my health or my feelings. And shaking my sense of self will be shaking my world to its fiery core. But I also see that God has gathered for me an amazing support network. The chariots of fire are in place.

And then sometimes I fall back into weakness and I think, why me? Why should I have so much pain and heartache and testing in rapid succession? Why can't I have my normal life back?

I'm a former athlete, a runner who found self-esteem and confidence in high school track and cross country. (Are you seeing the 2nd reason for calling this post 'Chariots of Fire'? Heh, heh, sometimes I think I'm pretty clever...) Our coach did not push all his runners equally. I remember being extremely annoyed that he sometimes made me run with the boys instead of letting me run with my friends, who would have made it much more fun instead of acting all awkward and doing all that spitting and sweating and other macho stuff (nothing could be more insulting to a high school boy's masculinity than to make him run with a girl). But it was because my coach saw in me some undeveloped potential. He pushed me harder because he knew I could perform better than I was.

I hope that is God's purpose now in my life. I am honored that He is allowing these events to happen in my life because He sees undeveloped potential and He wants me to move beyond my current state to bring Him more glory.  

Lord, help me trust in you and persevere in the lessons you are teaching me. Help me use this opportunity to develop a heart more like Yours.

Decisions

I've been agonizing over some big treatment decisions. Today's realization: stop stressing about taking care of this current cancer and future cancers all at once. That makes the decisions too big and requires information I will not have now. Instead, I need to start by coping with just this cancer. I will then deal with future risks as a separate issue.

Sounds obvious, but it isn't when you are in the middle of it all.

My First MRI

As a medical writer, I've been writing about MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) technology for years. I know, though only very basically, how it works, how it is used, and advantages and disadvantages compared to other imaging technologies. Well, today I had my first MRI experience. It was pretty much as expected, lying as still as possible in a big white machine that clanged and banged and rumbled.

My life has been clanging and banging and rumbling since this breast cancer diagnosis last Friday, or really since my doctor first felt a lump a month ago. Life has been a maelstrom of anxiety, doctor appointments, mammograms, ultrasounds, and consultations on top of the usual parenting, work, and seasonal Christmas preparations. But the half hour lying still in this machine, unable and unallowed to do anything except lie still, gave me moments of peace in the center of the storm. So I got some good quality prayer time. And that's a blessing, since -- even though I know how critical prayer is -- it's hard to have a calm heart and take time from a frantically busy time. And prayer was also a blessing during the MRI because, when someone tells you to keep your breathing regular, the last thing you want to do is concentrate on keeping your breathing regular (helloooo, hyperventilation). Prayer was a perfect distraction.

Although the MRI was much as I expected, there were some surprises. First, the technician (who wasn't warm and friendly), sticks her hand into my 'dressing room' holding two little spongy doughnut-shaped stickers. "Here," she said gruffly. "These go on your nipples." Ok! My first pasties! (No tassles though.) All the same, it was nice to have an unexpected laugh. The other surprise, far less pleasant, was that the experience required an iv injection. Less than a week ago, I fainted after my biopsy (yep, I'm a fainter), so the thought of more bleeding-related medical experiences made my heart drop. And I didn't dare even ask why I needed an iv -- too concerned that the explanation would make me queasy. Ms. Crankypants Technician wasn't crazy about having a fainter on her hands either. "Next time, you should go to the hospital for your MRI. We aren't nurses, you know." Apparently technician school doesn't have a required course in MRI-Side Manners. Anyway, after getting all settled on the "bed" (the tech was unhappy that I was too tall to fit as well as her normal-sized patients; I was turning out to be a very bad patient) and lying in the machine listening to clanks for a good 20 minutes, I felt a faint coming on (when our friendly technician said she was putting something in the iv and this was the most important part so hold still) -- the racing heart, the pounding blood in my ears, clammy skin, loss of sensation in my extremities. [Technician, disgusted: "What do you mean, you feel like fainting?! If you do, we'll have to start completely over."] Usually, that's the end of it -- I've never stopped a faint before. But I prayed double-over-time, picturing God as my refuge and strength, my ever-present help in time of need. And I've got an incredible network of family and friends out there praying for me too. AND I was lying on my stomach with my heart level with my head and feet. Hooray! My heart rate calmed and I was flooded with relief. Thank you, Lord! I felt empowered.

And now more waiting for results, all of which are supposed to help me decide among my surgical options. Too bad 'no surgery' isn't an option. This is going to involve more blood, isn't it...

Graceful Friends And Great Timing

Some of the most important friendships in my life are less than a year old. Through the church my family attends and the Christian school my children attend, I have come into contact with some amazing Christian women and developed deep friendships with some of these fun, wise, caring individuals. Obviously, God's timing is perfect.

This past week, I had to get a breast biopsy. These kind women offered to come with me, but I -- weak in my self-sufficiency -- declined.

And then I wished I hadn't declined when the procedure was more involved and traumatic than anticipated.

Still, I didn't ask for help when I came home, even though I felt weak and nauseous and my husband was out of town and my children are young enough to need help with homework and supper and bedtime.

I thank God for staging a Friend Intervention! One friend insisted on coming over to help with bedtime. Then she came again in the morning to help get the kids off to school. Another friend drove them to school and picked them up. Dinner was brought to our family and more offers of childcare and accompaniment came.

It was truly overwhelming and humbling to be on the receiving end of so much kindness. I did nothing to deserve these women's kindness and love. At first, I felt indebted and ashamed of my needs. I like to stay 'in the black' when it comes to favors -- always offering, never asking. I like to feel that I have everything under control.

But then it struck me that these women's actions are a beautiful illustration of grace. We do nothing to deserve God's love and providence in our lives. And that's the whole point of grace -- freely given, never earned or deserved. My friends are so in tune with God that they are acting as His arms and legs and loving heart. And I need to get over my insolent self-sufficiency and accept grace graciously and humbly because I do not deserve it, not in spite of my not deserving it.

Today I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. I still know very little about the treatment pathway ahead of me, but my mother's fight with breast cancer is still fresh in my memory. All the same, it's comforting to know that God is on His throne and in control despite threats to my health and life. I dread the diagnosis and treatment and its effect on my family, but I also look forward to seeing how God will use this situation to draw me closer to Him. And I am grateful for His perfect timing, gathering godly friends around me to hug me with His arms and speak His words of comfort.

Debridement

I'm a freelance medical writer, developing educational materials for pharmaceutical companies. My latest project is on wound healing, a new topic for me. As a queazy person, the images that accompany medical references on chronic wounds have been difficult to view. But the topic is interesting, and I always love learning something new. With this project, I've learned a new word: 'debridement'. Debridement is the excision of dead or infected tissue of the wound to promote healing. It's an important procedure. [And if you are strong-stomached, you can look up 'debridement' on Wikipedia and see a really gross picture. Note the part about the use of maggots for debridement. Ick, ick, ick.]

Anyway, as I continue my week of waiting before a biopsy, I see this waiting time is God's way of debriding my heart. He wants me to rely on Him, not on my self-sufficiency or control or will. He is surgically removing the necrotic and devitalized tissue to promote my healing, removing the rebellious corners of my heart so mine can be more like His.

Tear deeply, Lord. It hurts, but I want a heart like Yours. Give me strength to go through this and faith in your perfect plan.

Similar imagery is used in the Bible: the pruning of vines, the winnowing of grain, and the refining of precious metal.
A friend sent me this poem, copied from her devotional book two days ago:

"He sat by a fire of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore,
And closer He bent with a searching gaze
As He heated it more and more.
He knew He had ore that could stand the test,
And he wanted the finest gold
To mould as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems with a price untold.
So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho' we fain would have said Him "Nay,"
And He watched the dross that we had not seen,
And it melted and passed away.
And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were so dim with tears,
We saw but the fire - not the Master's hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.
Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow,
As it mirrored a Form above,
That bent o'er the fire, tho' unseen by us,
With a look of ineffable love.
Can we think that it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He saw through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.
So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat,
Than was needed to make it pure."

Staring at Mortality

One week ago today, my doctor found a lump. Yup, I'm not even 40, I lead a healthy lifestyle, I do the monthly exams (okay, just sort of), etc. etc. So I was completely shocked. Yes, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer a mere two years ago, but not until her mid-60s.

The very next day, I went in for a mammogram and ultrasound. The radiologist reported to me that his findings were suspicious, so now I'm scheduled for a biopsy with a breast surgeon. (I didn't even know there was such a specialty!)

AND now I have a whole week to sit here and worry.

And worry I have done. But I'm also fighting my worry. I have just finished a year of the biggest stressor in my life, and I have learned all sorts of unforgettable lessons about God's faithfulness and care. I have seen firsthand that He answers prayer above and beyond our wildest hopes and expectations. I have learned to rely on Him as my refuge and strength in the face of devastation. In fact, just days before my doctor's shocking find, I had said to my two prayer buddies, "This lesson will be a Standing Stone throughout my life. I will never forget what I have learned about God's amazing care and faithfulness, and I will never doubt again. If He could get me through THAT, then He can get me through anything."

Me and my big mouth? Possibly He was using that circumstance to prepare me for something else big -- a close look at my own mortality. Even if the lump comes to nothing, I am being forced to again prove my allegiance to Him during this week of waiting for further news.

Lord, my allegiance IS with You. Please help me fight my anxieties and fears. Help me to rest in You, knowing that Your grace is sufficient for all my needs. I wait on You, as the watchmen wait for the dawn. Help me loosen my grasp on this world, even on my own family. My love for them and desire to care for them is nothing compared to Your love for them and ability to care for them. I trust in You.

I have also prayed over and over again these past few days that I might more fully feel His presence. And He answers prayer. I have felt an outpouring of love from the close friends who know what's going on. An kind email full of thoughtfully chosen Bible verses. A phone call offering encouragement and practical information. A surprise visit with a hug, a prayer, and a Bible passage specially marked just for me. An offer to accompany me to the doctor appointment. And the most heartfelt prayer time I've ever shared with my own mother. These women are speaking with God's words and hugging with God's arms and praying the thoughts on His mind. God's goodness makes me cry even more than my own mortality does. I am blessed beyond belief with the wise and godly women who surround and uplift me and the God who put them in my life.

On a lighter note, it's funny how everything reminds me of breast cancer. Like using a knife to remove all those eyes from the potatoes I was preparing for dinner. Lumpectomy? I was more careful than usual to excise as little healthy potato tissue as possible.

And I'm wondering how God will bless me this time beyond my wildest imaginings and thinking how great it would be to end up not only cancer-free but with really big boobs.
Just throwing the idea out there, God!