Battle of the Big C

We were having family dinner last night when I asked the question.

"Anybody know what tomorrow is?" Four pairs of eyes looked at me with complete blankness.

"Tomorrow is my 4th anniversary." The kids immediately panicked and turned their attention to Vern, who shook his head and reminded them that my birthday wasn't until the 29th.

"I'm cancer free tomorrow for 4 years." They all sat back in relief. Oh. THAT. And without taking a moment to pause or consider, they all dug back into their suppers while Grace took her turn in reading from Keys for Kids and Little House on the Prairie.

I sat back, soaking in the moment. In 2012, we fought and won a battle against breast cancer. We witnessed with our own eyes The Lord's sovereign  hand upon our family.  We felt first-hand the support of those who love us and who pitched in to help take care of us during that journey. And here at the dinner table 4 years later, I realized that my guys--rather than turn that memory into one that brought fear and anxiety--had only turned that memory into one of victory and peace and security about the way The Lord Jesus feels about them. Oh, be still my joyous heart and praise be to GOD. 

But I was still jealous of them. Yes, I am a 4 year cancer survivor. But if I am going to be transparent with you, I have got to tell you that I still get anxious and insecure with every mammogram and doctor's visit. The memory of 2012 does not always leave me feeling victorious and admittedly, sometimes I can't wait for October the National Breast Cancer Awareness month to be over with because I don't want to be reminded that I battled the Big C.

Or do I?

The night of October 12, 2012 after kids had gone to bed, Vern began to gently pull the tape off my skin that had protected the marks to help line up the equipment that had drilled radiation into my body for 7 weeks. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Yes, those pieces of tape had been on my skin for 2 months and it hurt to pull them off. But with every one of those that came off my body, I could feel myself getting one more step closer to freedom. One step closer to redemption. One more step closer to understanding how deep, how wide, how long, how GREAT is the Father's love for me.

I had been in a really bad situation. And He rescued me. Not because I deserved it. But just because He loved me and wanted to show me that love. He knew it would bring me courage and hope despite these moments of fear. Moments of anxiety. Moments of defeat.

And I need to remember that I had cancer and I survived. That I was once dead and now I am alive. That once I lived in fear of what might happen, and now I am courageous.

And that He has always loved me even though I may never become all that He made me to be.

So this morning, I bought 400 pieces of candy so that everyone I meet today can share in the sweet memory of my cancer journey with me. Because He did for me these great and awesome works my eyes have seen (Deuteronomy 10:21). I don't want to forget how it changed me. I pray that you don't forget those times when He has changed you.

Soaked with a rain coat

Morning traffic in Dallas is bad anyway, and then you add pouring rain. But I was busy with my thoughts about how I was going to journal my recent trip to Jerusalem, and so the time was going by quick enough though my truck tires were spinning slowly.

Then this random car cut right in front of me in the right hand lane and turned on his hazards and I went crazy mad for a moment because I could no longer move forward--he was blocking my way. He got out of his car, and hurried around the back. All the while my jaw is on the floor of my truck in disbelief at this turn of events. I couldn't get around his car if I tried, he had cut me off so hard there was only about 12 inches between my front bumper and his trunk. I could feel myself getting madder and madder. Then he was opening up the passenger door and pulling a little girl out of the car.

She immediately doubled over and got sick on the road. In the pouring rain, her dad patting her back and trying to shield her body from the rain with his back.

Nancy.

I could hear The Lord's voice as clear as day in that moment and I was already reaching for my giant rain coat and opening my door to step out into the pouring rain.

The man looked up for a moment when he felt the rain coat over his shoulders and around his little girl. He could not see me, but he said "gracias" and continued to pat his little girl's back as she cried and continued to get sick. But at least now they were dry, and I knew that made a difference.

I had been running late that morning to work anyway. Matt had to get dropped off early to a cross country race, which meant I would go in late to work. I had also stopped for a coffee, blaming jet lag from the Jerusalem trip for my lazy mind. But in that moment when The Lord spoke to me, I knew I had been in that exact place at exactly the right time according to His will.

And as I stood there getting soaked to the bone protecting that dad and his daughter from the onslaught of the pouring rain, I wondered how often does God put us in exactly the right place at the right time and we don't even know it. I'm guessing a lot. I'm guessing more than a lot. I'm guessing its a huge number. I'm guessing we have no clue how often that occurs.

Psalm 121 says that The Lord does not let your foot be moved without His knowing or say-so. That He watches over us by day and by night without ceasing. And even though there are times I can point to and understand that I have experienced exactly that, I just have to be transparent here and confess that there are many more times that I do not recognize He has watched over me with such precision.

But this morning, in the pouring rain, his precision was so exact that there was only 12 inches of space between my front bumper and that guys' trunk.  I wasn't going anywhere. I was meant to be in that moment. My "Hallelujah" could not be loud enough. He had placed my feet firmly into a situation where I could be of help, and the privilege of having that assignment had washed peace over me.

The sick girl's little brother opened the back window and waved at me, grinning ear to ear--he had probably never seen a grown woman get intentionally drenched with rain on the side of a road. I waved back at him smiling--no, I wasn't saving lives this morning. But I was in the presence of my creator doing what He had created me to do. Serve.

Finally, little girl was better, and dad was putting her back in her seat for the long road to wherever they were going. I walked slowly back to my truck, soaking in the peace that had come over me. You see, when our actions are in line with God's will, there is only one outcome. Total peace.

So put your rain coat down today and get soaked in the Peace of God. The feeling passes all understanding, I guarantee it.