Cancer Wins

Today, for a moment, cancer won.

It was a beautiful sunny day after a blizzard. I dawdled getting up and getting going. I slathered my gluten free waffle with creamy peanut butter and the last of the strawberry rhubarb jam. I read my Bible and scrolled through facebook.

Then I got the text.

The text that told me that a friend – a mentor and teacher, a coheir with Christ, a fellow cancer survivor – died this morning.

And, for a moment, cancer won.

Not because he died.

But because I gave up.

It wasn’t unexpected. His cancer had spread and his body was weak from the battle. And it wasn’t entirely unwanted – he goes to a place I long to be. He received his reward and he’s placing it at the feet of our Abba. Perhaps he’s even caught a glimpse of Grammy in the garden with Grampa.

His last breath here brought him into a wonder that I can’t even imagine.

But for a moment, I didn’t see any of that.

For a moment, all I saw was CANCER.

The pain it causes. The loved ones and body parts it steals away. The scars it leaves in its wake – seen and unseen. The way it strips away any shred of peace and hope and beats you down in fear until you’re curled in a ball sobbing.

As I sobbed, I hated cancer with every cell in my body.

And while I sat there sobbing, hating, broken, and despairing, cancer won.

Praise God for the calm that comes after the storm. For the still, small voice that can speak louder than the winds howling around me. For His faithfulness, even when I lose faith.

This world is broken. My sins helped break it.

But God is on the move.

I’m not sure how this blog entry is going to end. This may be one of the ones that doesn’t get wrapped up with a witty clincher sentence and a moral for a bow.

Sometimes we don’t figure out the lesson. My son texted this morning that there’s a purpose, but “it’s not for us to know.”

It’s not for us to know. Job got that text, too. 

Some answers we may never find…

My heart is at peace now. The tears are dry. The fear is replaced by Hope. The hatred squelched down to a desire to change the world and make a difference.

And I’m reassured.

Cancer may have won a minor skirmish today, but not the battle. My Abba has already won the war.