Standing Still

It's been a week since the dreaded word Cancer has re-entered my life. Not since 2005 when my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer has my family been touched. Not before it either. Sure, my Grandpa Hinman had some spots on his skin that he had removed, but he was a contractor, always outside. Isn't that to be expected?

Last week as I sat outside our local YMCA with Elliana, texting my mom, when Dave called for me to meet him at my doctor's office. And I knew. Just like I suspected when the lump was found, and I knew in my heart when the biopsy was done. I knew I had cancer. As I drove to the doctor's office I knew I had a choice on how I would receive and react to this news. How would I respond? We all have those moments in life when in our minds, there is a split second review of what our actions will be. Or our words. And it was as if time stood still. I heard a small voice tell me..."Remember when you watched your friend deal with her daughter's brain cancer? And you said if you were ever in a situation like that, you wanted to walk with her same grace? Now is your chance." And I knew, in that tiny moment, how I would proceed.

This week, since things are calmer before the storm of deciding what treatment and surgery I will have done, I have had many moments of standing still. And I am reminded of something else. I am a woman WITH cancer. I am NOT cancer. Meaning, it is now a part of me. But it is not all of me. It never will be.

It reminds me of when I worked in mental health and did psychological testing, diagnosis, and developmental clinics. I would have the joy of spending time with other people's children. Getting to know them. Finding out their intellect, how they answer things, what toys like they to play with, how they compensate, relate to, and deal with life. Then I would put on paper my findings and talk to their parents. Many times in my career I gave wonderful news! But other times, I had to give grave news. Life shattering news. Changing news. And one thing I always reminded those parents before they walked away from me. This is your child. The one you love, laugh with, care for, and enjoy. He is the same when you walk out of here with this diagnosis as he was when you walked in without it. The only thing different is that you have the knowledge to know how to move forward with this same child. You have the power to intercede and change things in his environment so that he excels. But him, this little one of yours, HE is the same.

I am the same.

I am still doing the normal every day life things. Getting the kids up. Driving them to school. Grocery shopping. Laundry (egads! The laundry a family of 6 creates!). Talking with friends about things that are going on in their lives. Because their lives haven't stopped just because mine seemed to rotate on the same film day after day. I am still raising four kids, Christmas shopping, cooking dinner, and meeting new faces. And thinking about breast cancer and how to get rid of it.

In the standing still moments, I know I am not the only one who is going through a rough patch. I know I have other friends who are dealing with situations in their lives. With their children, their pregnancies, their marriages, their jobs, and their health. I had a friend tell me recently, "You don't want to hear my stuff, you have enough going on." True. my plate is full. But I am a master at moving things around and finding a place for other people's stuff. Because your troubles bring my heart something else to focus on. And it helps remind me that as we walk through life, we all have our struggles. The things that we find overwhelming and heartbreaking. We just carry different bags as we walk, but the burdens can feel the same. I want to know how you are as my friends. I want to pray for you, too.

I wish everyone would know what it feels like for me on this side. So that no one ever doubt the power of their words or actions. Sometimes we get so engrossed in the comings and goings of our lives, we forget how many people there are around us that we care about. And in turn, care about us. Only once before in my life have I ever experienced such an outpour of love. Only once before in my life have I felt totally surrounded in prayer, uplifted to Christ, and known that I was on a faith walk like no other. This was with the adoption of our daughter. I've seen what God can do. And if you have ever seen her, you know what He can do, too!

This past week, I have felt the same gentle guidance. I have felt the same strong arms. I have felt the same total trust and peace at what is coming ahead. I know it is due to the many prayers that surround me. I am in a protective bubble of God's making and it is because of the hundreds of people who are praying for me and my family. I am humbled and can never thank any of you enough. The comfort that prayer brings outweighs the stress of the situation. Please keep them coming!

For they wash me with God's grace. As I am standing still.