In October 2010, my husband and I sat on the floor in our boys’ bedroom as they ran around us in a pre-bedtime frenzy. Surrounded by bunk beds, toys, and trains, we told our young sons I had cancer.
When the doctor called earlier that afternoon, I expected him to say the lump in my breast was breast cancer or not breast cancer. Instead, I heard a strange new word: angiosarcoma. When I typed it into Google, I quickly understood why the doctor’s tone had been so serious.
Angiosarcoma has a five-year survival rate of 30%. My boys were six and four, and their little sister was 18 months old. I closed my tear-filled eyes and started begging the Lord to give us those five years. I wasn’t bold enough to ask for more.
Over the next several months, I endured seven rounds of chemotherapy, most of which involved a clinical trial at a Cancer Center, 600 miles from home. Chemo was followed by five weeks of radiation and then surgery, all out of town. I spent a total of fourteen weeks away from my family, sacrificing months with the hope of gaining years.
I wrestled through many questions during my cancer battle and the tenuous years that followed.
Could I trust the Lord to care for my children even if losing me was part of their story?
Would he meet their needs when I could not?
And at the end of this, would they be emotionally scarred or would they be spiritually stronger?
The Lord met me in that questioning place with the truth of his word. The questions never vanished, but he taught me to cling to his promises as the uncertainty raged around me.
To read the entire post, head over to Risen Motherhood – it’s one of my favorite blogs. I hope you’ll take a look around while you’re there and check out their podcast for some wonderful, gospel-centered encouragement for moms!Share