Black Friday

Please don’t think I am impervious to the shock of my diagnosis. I’m no superhero, in spite of what I may, or may not, have led my grandson to believe. I’ve had my moments. Stepping out of the hospital parking garage, where I’ve parked many times to visit friends, then instead of walking straight toward the hospital, we made a right turn and faced the sign on the other building which read “Oncology”. I felt that sensation in my stomach. You know it, the one you get from standing on a rooftop or high bridge, looking down, thinking about what it might feel like to slip and fall from that great height. In that moment, with my husband on one side and my daughter on the other, I looked away from the sign and up into the deep of the sky and said, “God, here we go!”

The first moment happened the day I got the phone call with the biopsy results. The one where I heard the words which branded a big “C” on my forehead. It had been such a busy day. I had been working all day trying to resolve an accounting puzzle and had literally been sitting beside my co-worker, L, since early morning, sharing my desk as we sorted through all the pieces. I had been told to expect the call around 10 am. Lunch came and went. Then, at 4:08 it came. I calmly said to L, “I need to take this.” She excused herself and after closing my office door, I sat down and picked up the phone. The person behind this voice had been so kind, setting up appointments, calling me back with confirmations, helping me with directions and answering questions. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to have her job, telling news to folks, some of which will be celebrated, and some of which will feel like a giant sinkhole caving beneath their feet. Her manner was gentle and we discussed what my next step should be. I frantically scribbled down all I could of the words she was saying. When we hung up, I called my husband. At this point, no one else knew there was any suspicion. I got his voice mail. Not knowing what to say, I hung up, folded my notes and stuffed them into my purse. Quietly in my heart I said, “It’s our secret for now, God” and then opened my office door. My co-worker returned and we sat back down in front of my computer. I told her, “I have to have some surgery.” Then we got back to the puzzle and resolved it to our satisfaction, I’m glad to say, by the end of the day.

My husband rang as I was closing things down and said, “I’m sorry I missed your call. What’s up?” Because this was Tuesday, and I usually go from the office to Bible study on Tuesdays, we didn’t expect to have dinner together. I said to him, “I didn’t call. That must have been from yesterday” and then went right on to discussing his day and my plans for the evening. As we were saying good-bye it hit me. “Wait! wait! wait! I did call you. I heard from the biopsy.” And then I shared the news with him.

On my drive, I realized that I had not only stuffed my written notes, I had stuffed the news and boxed it away in my mind. I guess it was a good coping strategy, just not a good one for long-term. At any rate, I still had the evening to go before I could unpack it with my husband, so back into the box it went.

As I reflect on this I am reminded of a truth I learned a few years ago. I had heard someone say in public, “I hope to never be offended again.” That phrase had struck me with curiosity so much that later, when I read Psalm 119:165, it clicked. The King James version has it this way: Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them. When we love God and love his son, the Word Incarnate, we have no need to feel offended or be tripped up by anything which may happen to us. I’ve had years to ruminate this so that today, not only do I have head-knowledge, but also heart-knowledge of this truth. This morning I came across the passage again, and read it within the context of my gift. Verse 162 now comes to life for me: I rejoice at thy word, as one that findeth great spoil. God had known all along that I would receive the big “C” brand. In his tenderness and mercy, He has been preparing me for years, making sure I would have this truth in my heart. For this reason, I can rejoice in the gift of his word and the gift of cancer.

Today many of us will be out hoping to find a great spoil in the shopping malls and stores. You’ll see me in the TV department. In the midst of the frenzy I hope you will find great peace and that your eyes and especially your heart will be open to the great spoil found in his word.