Mary continues…

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Yesterday we got a glimpse into what Mary is thinking these days. In one sense, she’s waiting. Most of us bristle at having to wait for almost anything, but waiting for deadly cancer to show itself is possibly the worst wait there is.

Yet through these uncertain days, Mary’s faith has remained certain. Today she describes her lowest cancer-related moment and what she did to get past it:

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Practically every Christian has memorized Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good to them that love God.” But life offers up all kinds of “things” that can’t possibly result in anything good. At least that’s our perspective going through them. But God’s Word is true no matter what we think.

All of us experience dark days when it seems life can’t get any worse. My most recent experience with that occurred on the day I learned I had pancreatic cancer.

My lowest point came when I realized I had to call each of our 7 children with the bad news. As they wept and agonized over my dim prognosis, I wept, too. What mother wants to call their children and strike them with pain like that? What mother wants to make her grown children cry?

Though I knew in my head that having cancer wasn’t my fault or my choice, at that low moment it felt like I was responsible for the pain my children were feeling. And since they weren’t coping well, neither was I. It was one of the darkest days of my life.

But God comes close to the brokenhearted. In the middle of nearly unbearable pain, he puts his arms around us by way of Scripture and offers practical help, personalized to our needs. When I was suffering most, I heard God’s whisper into my soul: “All things will work together for good. Even this.”

I couldn’t see it then or even for days afterwards, but now, at the one year point, I can see how he kept his promise. Here’s some of it:

Family, friends, and even strangers began lifting my name and my family’s names to the Lord for his immediate help. Many promised to pray for me not just once but every day! Others sent cards, emails, Bible verses, encouraging words of all kinds… by the hundreds! A year later, it hasn’t stopped.

2 plus 7

But there’s more. My children came and are still coming from far and wide, again and again, supporting their parents and also each other. My grandchildren have spoken tender words of love to me. And we’ve all gained a broader perspective on eternity, connecting it in new ways to life on earth.

I’ve received visitors bringing gifts, food, and especially a desire to pray over me, calling out for strength and encouragement, which then traveled from God through them and into me.

God has blessed me with more good days than bad this year, and several days were downright spectacular! I got to welcome two new grandbabies and see a daughter get married. It was an important year full of family joy.

Best of all, though, my terminal diagnosis drove me to God and his Word like never before. I’ve leaned on him harder than at any other time in my life and have soaked my brain in Scripture. He taught me how to take full advantage of his promises and gave me a golden opportunity to testify to others that the supernatural peace the Bible promises is available even in the middle of terminal cancer.

And all of this is God “working things together for good.”

[ Tomorrow Mary will share how she resists the enemy’s desire to make her fearful. ]

“I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees You.” (Job 42:5)

Mary’s One Year Anniversary

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M and MMany of you have been faithfully praying for my sister Mary and are wondering if there’s any new information about her health. Today marks one year after she and Bervin first heard the words “pancreatic cancer.” So it’s a special day on which to hear directly from Mary:

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In February of 2014, I contracted a fever for no apparent reason, and it spiked to 105 degrees. So after a couple of days when it wouldn’t quit, Bervin and I headed for an emergency room where tests revealed the reason: a blocked bile duct just outside the pancreas. Further tests indicated that a cancerous tumor was growing in my pancreas, and when we learned this, we were devastated.

One month later, on St. Patrick’s Day, I underwent the Whipple surgical procedure at Mayo Clinic, since scans had indicated no visible cancer anywhere but in the pancreas. They removed the tumor, as well as everything around it, after which I underwent 6 months of chemo. Scans at the half-way point came back clear.

We all rejoiced that the chemo seemed to be winning over the cancer! But three months later in November, after completing chemo, scans revealed cancer growing in three new places.

When Bervin and I met with my oncologist in December to discuss my options, she said every case was different, and she couldn’t tell me how mine would go. She just told me to report back when symptoms developed. As a result, my January scan appointment was moved to February. And since I’m still asymptomatic, scans have been put off indefinitely.

I know I still have cancer. And I haven’t yet decided if I even want to know how extensively. Without focusing on scans and stages and clinic appointments, there are actually days when I completely forget I have cancer. I even feel healthy. For this gift I thank God daily.

Several friends have told me they’re praying for a miracle of healing, but I’ve never felt led to pray for that. Others dwell on the fast-growing, doomsday nature of pancreatic cancer. I’ve thought a great deal about both extremes and have decided to land somewhere in the middle. The only perfect prayer is, “Your will be done, Lord.” And his will is what I want, live or die.

Sometimes I think about my having one of the most aggressive cancers that exists and am mystified that I feel this good. I’m leading a normal life, doing all the things I did before my diagnosis and meeting all my former commitments. And I’m feeling just fine.

I don’t know how long this will last, but I view these days as precious gifts from God, every one of them. I say it like that because one of the things he’s taught me is how to live one day at a time. It may sound clichéd, but this cliché is a valuable one.

That’s not to say there aren’t moments when knowledge of my cancer catches up with me (usually during the night), and I’ve wondered how much pain is ahead. I remember Margaret’s husband Nate struggling with the pain of his pancreatic cancer and can find myself getting shaky.

But at those moments I know what to do. I deliberately meditate on Scriptures that will calm my heart – like the 23rd Psalm: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil” (which includes the evil of pain) “for God is with me.”

This promise and many others work to pull me away from worrying about my weakness, to focusing on the Lord’s strength. Anyone who’s had cancer knows that the overwhelming feeling is one of intense need. Cancer may make us shaky, but I am personally grounded on the Rock that cannot be shaken.

[ Tomorrow we’ll hear more from Mary. ]

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” (Psalm 23:6)

Good job!

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Emerald spends time with me whenever her mommy is attending university classes. And while Birgitta is learning, I am too.

Pop popA week ago Emerald and I opened a package together that came in the mail. Inside was a generous supply of bubble wrap protecting the contents, and I wondered if she might be ready to pop the bubbles.

As I squeezed a few for her, her eyebrows went up with surprise, and I could see this was a match made in heaven. Because of her love of bubble-blowing, bubble wrap was sure to become a close second.

Pressing my big finger atop her tiny one, I showed her how hard she’d have to press to get a pop, and doubted she had the strength. But in tandem we popped one after another, and she was hooked. When she tried it by herself, at first her finger wiggled and wobbled as she pressed, but eventually one bubble did pop. She threw her hands in the air and shouted, “Good job, bubble!”

And there was my lesson for the day.

PopAs self-centered as most toddlers naturally are, this time Emerald focused on the performance of someone (something) other than herself. I was about to say, “Good job, Emerald!” but she beat me to it with her good-job-bubble, as if she was proud of the bubble and its pop.

Of course there’s nothing wrong with congratulating a toddler on learning something new. But there’s something unusual about a toddler (who is normally quite self-focused) seeing anything at all from a viewpoint other than her own.

God had me in class on bubble-wrap-day and was reminding me that thinking self-first is something I do too much of. And when I think like that, I might as well be a toddler acting in character (rather than a toddler acting out of character as Emerald did that day). I’ve lived too long not to know better.

A few days later, I got the same lesson again.

Living and learningThe two of us were out on the deck blowing soap bubbles when it began to rain. Emerald asked for her mini-umbrella (which sounded much like asking for her “ebola”), and I wondered if she might be able to open and close it herself. She badly wanted to do it.

When we came in the house, we tried it a few times with my hand over hers, showing her how. And sure enough, she finally got it. When she did, her response was, “Good job, ‘ebola’!” And I got the lesson again.

Now my homework is to learn how to think of others not just intentionally but automatically. It’s hard to establish a new habit, but at least God taught the lesson in a truly charming way. And if I need a reminder, I can pull out the bubble wrap.

“We must not just please ourselves…  For even Christ didn’t live to please himself.” (Romans 15:1,3)

Praising and Praying with Mary

You’ll hear from me on Sunday night’s blog, bringing you up to date.