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| Krista's Flowers Every week during chemo, Krista dropped off flowers for my porch. Last week she came over for a bbq and brought me a jar full again! They represent God's grace to me, undeserved but so beautiful!. |
Usually cancer floats around my consciousness, like a fragrance I've grown accustomed to smelling. Some days it bursts through my senses, like the whiff of a strong, putrid scent. Because I recently shared my cancer story at our church's women's retreat, I've again ripped open the emotional scars of going through chemo, the ups and downs, the nausea and food aversions. My subconscious, while I slept, must have picked up on those emotions.
When I first received my cancer diagnosis, I knew God would use it to glorify Himself, to touch others. I tried to be faithful to this, including being willing to share my experience with anyone who asks. So when Susan, my friend and women's ministry director at our church, asked me to share my story at this year's women's retreat, I immediately said yes. It wasn't necessarily something I wanted to do, but I felt it was something I needed to do to make sense of my cancer. I was able to share how God never left me, even in the midst of my hardest days. I shared how God's grace met me every day. I described how suffering isn't the absence of God's goodness, but His means of getting our attention, removing the fluff in in our lives so we can truly see Him. It was emotional and good. I tried not to be pollyannish about how God met my every needs, but I shared how some days were brutally hard and my pain was raw. On those days I had to dig and hunt for a glimpse of God. My prayer as I prepared and as I spoke was that God would use my words and experience to draw someone to Him in a new way.
At the end, I opened up for any questions. One lady, the mother of our junior high youth director, came up front and told me she, too, underwent treatment for breast cancer, about six months behind me. She even has my same doctors! I also noticed another lady who was openly sobbing through my talk. Afterwards, she caught up with me and shared her story. She was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, her cancer already having spread to her bones. We connected, we shared, we teared up.
It was an amazing weekend. The new friends I met, the stories that were shared keep rolling around my mind. I've been thinking of cancer, too. I'm sure this fueled my dream the other night. Shaken, I remember getting out of bed that morning and immediately replaced the dread of chemo with thankfulness that it wasn't my reality today. It threw me off a bit, but after spending time with God, reading His Word, praying, following God's lead as I started my day, I felt better. I still feel the emotions of that morning, because, in truth, the possibility of recurrence is real.
Next Friday, I go back in for an MRI. I remember the fear surrounding that first MRI, the fresh cancer diagnosis not quite settled into my reality. Last year's MRI was easier because I was so much more acclimated to these sort of tests. My worry was that the highly sensitive films would show more spots that would need biopsying. Last year, everything was clear. I'm praying for the same this year.
Yet today, on this beautiful sunny Saturday in June, with our backyard waterfall roaring in the background, the breeze gently blowing and Sugar keeping my company, I'm enjoying the present. As I told the ladies at the retreat, as long as I focused on what is right here, God would be with me. If my mind wanders out into the future, God's grace isn't there. That's where I hope to stay this week, supported by God's grace. Want to join me? |
| Wish you could hear the rushing water |
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| My faithful companion |
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