Wicked

That is the name of the book I was reading eight years ago. The last movie I saw was The Passions of the Christ. How do I remember that you might ask, because it was a pivotal moment in my life. Eight years ago today I was told that I had cancer, and not only that I had cancer,  but it was late stage and my doctors were sure that it had invaded my entire body.



How much white space do you leave for a message like that? I had an 11 year old daughter who two days before had curled up in the closed weeping "Why does everyone leave me?" And I had to tell her that Mommy might be leaving too.

But my church stepped in. They aren't and ordinary church. They seem to know that we are a body of sinners attempting to be the body of Christ through His strength. They took care of my daughter and me even to the point of moving us into one of the pastors house and arranging transportation to doctors appointments. There was a part of me that felt like after that I'd used up my quota of grace...not true.  They still love my daughter and me. They still are concerned when I'm ill and protect my daughter.

It's been eight years. I have been diagnosed with other life threatening diseases, but as of today the outlook for cancer is NED. I may die soon of other things, but it isn't likely to be cancer.

I believe in the hands and feet of Christ. I believe that no matter what happens I have a hope and a future. I believe that God Himself holds the future of my daughter in his hands. I am not worried. But I am affected by it. I puzzle over it and I do not relish the idea of the process of death. I just know that once it comes I know the where I'll be.