Cabrals
On the day that I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, my husband, Mike, and I felt stunned and empty, alone with our own thoughts, fears, and doubts. But by the next day I knew that I was experiencing God's grace. It was not a gradual change, as if people started praying or the doctors gave me hope, but I distinctly remember that it was as if a light switch had been turned on. Immediately I felt that I had been swept up and held in God's arms. I was given peace beyond all human understanding. I had a clear sense that God was in control and that He would never forsake me or my family. That sense of peace and confidence prevailed throughout an eight month ordeal until July 2006 when the doctors declared that I was cancer-free. One of the most profound truths I have learned during my struggle with cancer was that God's love, grace, mercy, and miracles are very, very present, and new every morning.
Together with my husband, Mike, and our three children, Elyse (15), Ben (13) and Emily (7), we've been a part of Grace Church and the Point Loma small group. Up until the day of my diagnosis, we lived typical, busy lives. Mike is a San Diego firefighter and I was involved in the home schooling of our children. I also administrated a large, multifaceted bi-monthly class day for our home school organization. Despite our full life, I had been through a six year period of poor health due to what was eventually diagnosed as Hashimoto's disease. Getting better was on my agenda, contracting a life-threatening disease was not.
In December 2005 when we heard that a growth on my clavicle could be malignant, and that the doctors were also concerned about a number of other abnormal lymph nodes, the Grace Church family lovingly and faithfully rallied around us. On a chilly Sunday morning at the close the service, I was surrounded and anointed with oil as our pastoral team, home group leaders and friends prayed for me. During their prayer, I felt distinct warmth and a burning sensation in a number of the areas we were concerned about. At my CAT scan later that week, the doctor and radiologist found that while the main lump on my clavicle was unchanged, all the other lymph nodes that had been enlarged on the first CAT scan, including a lump at the base of my skull, were completely gone. The radiologist said he couldn't explain it and my Jewish doctor said he truly believed that I had experienced a miracle. Within a week I was given a clean bill of health except for that one area, the lump on my throat, which was finally diagnosed as Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. This pattern of good news/bad news was repeated time-and-again during the next eight months.
In order to keep my home group and other friends aware of my immediate needs, I started writing email updates. These missives explained how the church could pray for me, while at the same time, provided opportunity to thank people for all the help, meals, prayer, and gifts that were flowing to us from the local body. In those notes, I wanted to honor God daily for his personal care, faithfulness, and hope in the midst of our difficulties. Grace Church was there almost daily to provide personal support, transportation to the doctor, prayer, meals, and even light-hearted humor. They also helped me by spending time with our kids.
Throughout the entire experience God brought interesting and often humorous evidences of grace that sustained our joy and hope. In one instance, shortly after hearing the initial diagnoses, I remember praying and sharing with Mike. While driving home from the doctor's office, searching for some sort of comfort from the Lord, the only promise that entered my mind was from the Veggie Tale song, "God is bigger than the Boogie Man." Though it lacked a depth of theological language, it built my faith, and in the end was proven true.
At one point our daughter, Elyse, began to grow concerned that she wasn't worrying about me as much as she should. It seemed to her that a life-or-death situation should be attended with some mild agitation, instead of the tangible and enduring peace she was experiencing. Mike, who wondered if this was some kind of backhanded good news, or perhaps temperamental style of faith, commented that Elyse was evidencing a true family trait: she was worrying about not worrying.
The Lord also opened the door for me to spend significant time with one nurse with whom I laughed and shared during my chemotherapy sessions. As I prayed and shared my faith with the medical staff, I learned that this nurse's sister had had puzzling symptoms that had gone undiagnosed for years. I shared about my diagnosis of Hashimoto's disease, and it turned out three of this nurse's family were diagnosed with the same disease. The nurse was very grateful for our times of talking and sharing during my treatment.
During this eight month period God used three methods to heal me: chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and divine healing (during times of anointing with oil and prayer). The Lord evidenced His presence in my life not only through physical healing but also by enveloping me in a peace and confidence that was nearly concrete. I was granted greater insight into God's sovereign ability to guide and care for me. Healing, perseverance, gratefulness and a greater appreciation for the local church were the result of his faithful work in my life.
If you had told me a year ago that I would have cancer and asked me if I would rather be healed instantly through prayer, or experience a long drawn out process, of course I would have responded, "That's easy: Heal me now, Jesus!" But, looking back over all I've been through this year, I wouldn't trade it for anything. This trial brought some of the hardest and saddest days for me and my family, but also the sweetest, wonderful, loving, and God-saturated times I've ever known. Throughout this period, my family and the members of Grace Church evidenced strong faith and joy, even in the midst of great trouble. For us, Grace Church was a good place to be when facing a life threatening difficulty. We all give glory to God for His grace evidenced in both the big miracles and the small ones. He is "Bigger than the Boogie Man", even when that boogie man is named cancer.