The first part of this tale began last Wednesday. If you want to catch yourself up, you can do it here. Don’t worry, we’ll be here waiting for you.
When I first heard that there was something suspicious in my right breast. I fell on my knees before God asking Him to come to my aid, to walk with me, to receive and be confident of His glorious peace. He gave it … instantly. I was almost immediately calmed and feeling as though a blanket of supreme peace and endless love was surrounding me. Then the weirdest thing happened.
It was as if I knew deep down in my bones that the peace came from acceptance … from making the decision to be totally reliant on God. And almost as suddenly I realized … clearly understood … that whatever the outcome of the biopsy, I would be fine because my King and my Savior was with me.
It reminds me of a time a few years ago when I was relocating from Arizona to Florida where, in the middle of the great State of Texas, I got tangled up with a semi-tractor trailer. Somehow he’d lost control of his rig and suddenly the massive truck was drifting quickly into my lane. I had nowhere to go but into the grassy median … at 85 miles an hour. I immediately called on the name of Jesus in furious fashion to save me from impending doom – kinda like, “Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus save me!” Certainly it was only through Him my car didn’t roll and after I’d reentered the highway, I proceeded off the next exit to spend some time thanking Him and collecting my wits.
In hindsight, Jesus had me safe the entire time. There were so many things that could have gone wrong and didn’t (obstacles in the median removed, a sudden lack of other traffic) that it was obvious He was in full and complete control. But one of the most interesting outcomes to that incident came a few hours later when I fully realized that if I hadn’t made it, I would have gone to heaven, and that would have been all right.
When you realize that you are not afraid of death, your whole world changes.
I got the biopsy done and everyone rejoiced at the news of no malignancy. Yet, the doctors weren’t done with me yet. The day before my biopsy, I’d had a pelvic MRI. It now seemed that two masses had taken up residence inside me.
On one hand, I already knew something was wrong down there. My original trip to the doctor was because of pain and bleeding so when they found the breast issue in a routine mammogram, it was insult to injury. A courtroom sidebar that was eventually ruled in my favor. “Step back.” I envision the judge saying afterward, because we’re not done. The main culprit was now being led into the courtroom. The trial is being called to order. Will I again experience victory? Be found blameless of all charges?
Pre-op testing begins. This doctor, that doctor. This test, that test. All to discover that we still know nothing … and won’t know until the criminals are cut out of me and examined in the operating room.
“It’s suspicious,” they say in quiet tones.
It was while I was awaiting more blood work that I found myself glancing through the doctor’s orders and found a diagnosis she had written … endometrial cancer. I shake my head and look to God.
‘She’s not the boss of me,’ I whisper with a smile.
I think I feel Jesus wink.
And then the dreams begin and evil lurks to take my mind off my Savior. To tear the fabric of my faith just enough to allow his lies in to aggravate my peace … which is His peace.
I try to remain faithful and find it’s a lot easier to cling to your faith when you know who you’re battling. Certainly no friend or family is speaking lies into my ear. It is only one. The only one who believes he has the right to intervene, to tear down, to destroy.
I awake from the dream I mentioned in the last post. A dream with a dear friend in it who passed into the arms of Jesus two years ago. She won’t look at me but I notice she is younger, strikingly beautiful. I gesture to her and see the cigarette in my hand.
I’m upset that the devil was in my dreams … again. And that is when I start to contemplate the interlopers in my body. In the pre-dawn dark my mind begins to generate the questions that will disturb God’s peace. Why are the masses there? Will I live through the surgery? Will they be found cancerous?
A non-audible voice unexpectedly bursts my concentration.
“Whom will you serve, Felecia, them or Me?” The thought chills me to my core.
“Choose your God.”
I shudder realizing how easy it was to slip into anxiousness and begin to weep.
“You Lord,” I whisper into darkened room. “Only You.”
There is more, of course. The Lord has not finished ministering to me yet; and the ways in which He chooses to do so are remarkable.
Please join me on Monday for the rest of the story … at least this side of the pending surgery.
Have a glorious weekend!