The big C (again)

I’ve been quiet on my blog for a couple of weeks now. Mostly it has been because my soul had nothing of note to report. I’ve woke each morning, spent my time with the Lord and experienced a peace that is leaves me emotionally flat. This is fine with me. I always cherish my quiet, alone time with God. Often, the Lord gives me a word of encouragement that I share with you, but not so these past days.

Last Wednesday I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. After an initial drop of heart to my gut, I settled into a space where I feel absolute at peace.  Maybe it’s because I battled the demon “fear of potential death” 14 years ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. At that time I figured the worst cancer could do to me was kill me, and then I’d be face-to-face with Jesus, so my attitude was, ‘bring it on!.’

Maybe because I’d had such a successful defeat of cancer at that time, I assume this outcome will be the same. “A touch of cancer” is how I describe my experience 14 years ago.

Maybe I’m in denial, out of touch with my fear and worries.

I think it is the first response, but I will not try to over analyze it, I will trust the Holy Spirit to hold and guide me in this process.

Sunday, in church, I had an ah-ha moment. I realized I need to respect this cancer, not treat it with a cavalier attitude, and brush it off with a slough of my heart and hand. If God has allowed it, God will use it to teach me something. I want to submit to the instruction of cancer. I don’t want to miss the lessons of trust and obedience and patience God might have in the lesson plans.

Will you pray with me that this treatment for cancer will not be wasted in my life? That through it I will grow more into the identity of God’s beloved daughter? That God’s glory will shine through me? That Jack and I will grow closer? That I will learn to let others love me by carrying me in prayer and in practical ways?

I’m asking a lot, I guess. But I trust you.

Again, I trust what one of my literary spiritual directors, Hannah Whittal Smith, has taught me.

It is no matter who starts our trial, whether man, or devil or even our own foolish selves, if God permits it to reach us, He has by this permission made the trial His own, and will turn it for us into a chariot of love which will carry our souls to a place of blessing that we could not  have reached in any other way

With you on the journey,