Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Cancer & Me

My phone rang seven years ago this month.

And things changed.

"You have a soft tissue tumor.
We think it might be a rare sarcoma.
There's only 700 cases diagnosed every year in the U.S & Europe.
We'll know for sure after surgery..."

I was stunned.  

At 46, it was not what I expected.

Endometrial Stromal Sarcoma.  

I can say with certainty.

It changed the direction of my life forever.

There was my life before cancer.


There is my life after cancer.

And the "before" and "after" don't resemble a whole lot.

Before cancer, my life was very small in comparison.

Small because I worked very hard to manage the risks out of it.

And a risk-free life brings its own consequences.

I depended on myself.

I made my own decisions.

I guided my own path.

I valued my independence.

And I honestly believed the lie that I had control.

Over my life.

My career.

My circumstances.

My future.

But, cancer came.

And the breaking process was officially underway.

That's what I call it.

Cancer has broken me of many things.

None, very pretty.





I have no problem now admitting.

It was one of the most important things that ever happened to me.

And while it may sound strange to say.

It was a gift to me.

I know it can be very different for others.

I know that's true for many.

But for me.
Seven years later.

I know now.
It was just the starting place.

Of living the life Jesus always wanted for me.






Dependent on Him.

Now, I'm taking each day.

And while I know I don't always get it right.

And many times I feel that temptation to "waller" (as we say where I come from.)

With control again.

For the most part.

I'm leaning in on Jesus.

I'm depending on Him.

I'm trusting Him.

With my future.

With my check-ups.

With my yearly scans and chest x-rays that watch for it's return.

With the ridiculous control I always thought I had.

It's so interesting to me.

That this person.


Who had such an issue with control.

Ended up with a cancer with a strong tendency to recur.

Often and typically years after the diagnosis.

So, it's always "out there."

And because it's always "out there."

That uncertainty.

I have to let it be.

and let it go.

And trust Him with it.

I can't get too comfortable.

Or too self-reliant.

And I really don't mind.

Not now, anyway.

I'm walking forward and celebrating this year's anniversary.

Seven years.

Cancer & me.

"But I am trusting you, O Lord, saying "You are my God!"  My future is in your hands. 
Psalm 31: 14-15.

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