I’ve thought about posting on this subject several occasions now, but I hadn’t mustered up the courage or the words until today. I’m going to take a shot at writing about this news that has so affected me and my immediate family. Please know, writing is like therapy for me. I dive in hoping for healing, renewing of my mind and spirit, and a miracle.
Evie and I took the trip to Big Long Lake on July 29 all because I found a great deal on a dress at Macy’s (for Matt and Stacie’s wedding) and I needed the dress hemmed. My mom had volunteered to help me out, but she would be vacationing with my dad this last week of July at their lake cottage. I love any chance to be in the sunshine near the peace and calm found in a large, blue body of water…so we packed up the van, turned up the tunes, and drove north.
When I had arrived, dad was out for a walk. Adam was just getting ready to drive away, and my sister, Val, was at Shippshewana with my aunts and cousins for the morning. Mom had told us a few days before that she had discovered a lump in her right breast and had a biopsy done, but she assured us that this had happened several times before and nothing had ever been wrong. She made it sound like the typical routine whenever she had a mammogram. She was awaiting the results from her biopsy when she had received a call saying they wanted her to come in to review the results. Never a good sign. If they won’t tell you over the phone, doesn’t that mean something complicated? I happened to be arriving at the lake when her OB doctor agreed to tell her the results over the phone.
I’ll never forget seeing my mom’s petite frame out the back window as she stepped outside for the phone call. My dad just returned from his walk and approached her. She stood upright, with her back to me, shaking her head up and down as she listened. Then, as if she could no longer carry her own weight, she suddenly leaned her left arm onto the car beside her. Her shoulders fell. I knew something was wrong. As she hung up the phone, she hugged my dad and my chest grew heavy with the knowledge that whatever news the doctor just delivered, it was not good. She walked inside, fighting back tears, and everything around me started to spin. I can’t remember much of anything specifically after this point. I know she told me she was diagnosed with cancer and that they needed to drive in to Fort Wayne that day. I know she was trying to be strong and that she was apologizing to me, for what, I do not know. I know I held her, cried with her, and played with her hair as she made phone calls to my siblings. I know I fed Evelyn an entire lunch of apples, and avocados, and turkey. I know I cried and stared at the wall and eventually drove back home, but I can’t remember doing any of these things.
We learned later that day that mom has a small, yet aggressive form of breast cancer.
The terrifying truth is that this cancer is unseen. My mother appears to be perfectly healthy and full of life. She smiles big, laughs loud, cooks meals, holds our babies…and yet this intruder, cancer, has come to change her story.
The past few weeks have been a blur of anxiety and grief as we travel to appointments with cancer specialists and plastic surgeons. We have worked out the details of what she wants her surgery to be and we’re hoping that her surgeons will be able to work her in next week or the following. She will have six months of chemo. And we will know much more about the cancer and whether or not it has spread to other areas after her surgery.
Without a doubt, I have been encouraged by the presence of God in this circumstance. I don’t think it is a coincidence that I arrived at the lake the time that I did that Wednesday morning. I find it encouraging to know that of all times, of all years this could happen, it is happening when my mother is surrounded by all of her adult children—the first time we’ve all lived in the same city in four years. My dad was able to be on vacation the week she learned of the cancer and he was by her side at every single appointment that week. Family and friends have provided support and encouragement, sending us all cards, calling us, and letting us know we are in thoughts and prayers. In such a hard and unfortunate time, I choose to see God’s spirit woven in and around us.
What I know of God in scriptures points to a God who is relentless and consistent in His love for us. My experiences of Him only clarify and solidify that He is sovereign and good. After working through many weeks of emotions: anger, denial, sadness, etc. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never really understand how or why these things happen in life. But when they do happen to me, I want to be clinging to God, the giver of all good things—hope, love, joy, healing, and comfort.
A few Sundays ago, I shared this quote by Dallas Willard with a group of high school girls who gathered at my house: “For those who love God, nothing irredeemable can happen to you.” I want to believe that there is nothing God can’t redeem. I want to believe that for my present situation, for all the ways in the past when I screwed things up, and for everyone who does not know the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ. Everything…everyone can be redeemed. This is hope for my soul.
So, my prayer is simple: God of goodness and love, Be who you are. Redeem us. Cancer or not. Healing or not. Long life or not. Redeem our deepest souls so that we can love you more, know you more, serve you more.
If you’re reading this and you know my mom (or even if you don’t and feel plain led to do something) send my mom a card letting her know you care. And if you’re praying for her, for us, let her know. I can already tell that the cards she has received are like a foundation under her feet reminding her of how much she’s loved. Her address is: 2710 West Drive, Fort Wayne, IN 46805.
Thanks for reading!
If you make these, I’d love to know what you think!
Katie K 10:09 am on November 21, 2009 Permalink
Hey Jess, Paul just turned me onto everyone’s blogs so I was catching up with all of the Gensic family ongoings. Congrats on the new little one on the way! That’s very exciting, I’m sure Evie will be a great big sister!
I’m stoked about a new sugar cookie recipe to try, i’ve been searching for one that’s worthwhile, every one i’ve tried thusfar has pretty much tasted like cardboard. I refuse to accept that it might possibly be due to a user error rather than a bad recipe, so I will definitely be giving this one a whirl.
Hope all is well with you guys. We will keep your mom in our prayers.
Katie