Cancer and Blessing. People don't normally
use these two words in the same sentence. But my mom would, and she did three
weeks ago when she called to tell me that she'd been diagnosed with colorectal
cancer.
Mom's diagnosis came out of the blue. She went in for a
routine-ish colonoscopy and came out a statistic defined by a small,
mushroom-shaped lump. When you look at the risk factors for colorectal cancer,
Mom doesn't fit the bill. In fact, she had the colonoscopy because she was
suffering from symptoms related to one of the medical conditions that can
eventually lead to colorectal cancer. Cue Alanis Morisette's song
"Ironic." But risk factors and medical conditions aside, the fact
remains that Mom has cancer.
I’ve learned many things in life, and one of them is that
cancer doesn’t care. It doesn’t care who or what you are, it doesn’t care how
old you are, it doesn’t care if you’re predisposed or not predisposed, it
doesn’t care if you’re religious or not religious, it doesn’t care if you’re a
“good” person or a “bad” person … none of that matters to cancer. All it cares
about is showing up in your body and wreaking havoc on your life in whatever
way possible. Sometimes the havoc is minimal, as we’re expecting it to be in
Mom’s case (She’s in Stage 1.), and sometimes the havoc is monumental, as it
was in the case of my father-in-law. But that doesn’t matter to cancer. It just
cares about showing its ugly, distorted face and unleashing its minions
throughout your body and about your life.
What DOES matter is the way that you respond to cancer.
My mom was quiet when she called to tell me The News,
speaking in the reserved, measured voice she reserves for laying the smack-down
or delivering bad news. She was definitely affected, but there was a resolve in
her voice. Within minutes of saying the C word that coiled my stomach
into knots and gradually gave way to a feeling of panic that rose into my lungs
and turned my shallow breathing into crying, her voice had returned to its
normal pleasant tone, and she spoke words that will forever be burned into my
memory of that moment:
“God gives us blessings in life. We don’t always
understand those blessings, but we have to trust that He has a plan and that
His blessings are for our good or the good of others.”
My mind had gone into overdrive at that point, branching
out in a billion different directions as I thought about all that the C word
could entail, but those words reeled me back in real quick. Huh?
Mom had just gotten a cancer diagnosis, and she was calling it a blessing? Had
I been in her shoes, I’m pretty sure I’d have either been balling my eyes out
and gorging on DQ blizzards or throwing things against walls yelling words that
Christian people shouldn’t yell. Yet there she was, in her everyday voice,
calling her diagnosis a blessing. Surely I heard her wrong, I thought
after getting off the phone with her 30 minutes later (after which I proceeded
to bawl my eyes out and eat my way through a DQ blizzard The Husband
thoughtfully—no wisely—brought home for me). Nope, I hadn’t heard her wrong.
When I met up with her four days later for retail therapy, her attitude was
still the same. In fact, she told me that she hoped her situation would bring
somebody whose faith might be faltering back into relationship with God. Again—huh?
I really shouldn’t have been surprised by Mom’s attitude.
And anybody who knows my mom will tell you this. She’s a faith-filled,
butt-kicking woman. Never one to take things sitting down, she tackles every
challenge in life with a well-thought-out approach and isn’t afraid to ask
questions or speak her mind when the situation warrants it. And she never does
anything without God in mind, firmly believing and trusting in His omniscience.
As I said—faith-filled and butt-kicking.
One of Mom's favorite phrases is "Everything happens
for a reason." It was a mantra in my house growing up, a mantra that
echoes the sentiment behind James 1:2-4, 12:
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and
sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,
because you know that the testing of
your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance
finish its work so that you may be
mature and complete, not lacking anything. … Blessed
is the one who perseveres under
trial because, having stood the test, that person will
receive the crown of life that the
Lord has promised to those who love him.
I have a love-hate relationship with these verses. I love
that these verses give you hope, hope that the challenges and difficult times
you face in life aren't without purpose—hope that "everything happens for a
reason." But I hate what these verses ask you to do in challenging and
difficult times. Face trials with joy? Surely you’ve got to be joking. For me,
it’s much easier to whine, moan, complain, take my frustration and anger out on
others, throw things, and eat my weight in ice cream. But the verses aren't
joking, and the book's author isn't named Shirley (That's an Airplane
reference for those of you who didn't get it. I threw it in for my dad's
benefit.). As a Christian, I am called to face trials with joy so that I may
grow into the person God designed me to be. Christ set this example Himself
while here on Earth, and if I’m truly a follower of His, then I need to try
following in His footsteps.
And that’s exactly what Mom is doing with her response to
her cancer diagnosis—setting an example. With her words, she has set the bar,
so to speak, on how she herself wants to respond to the diagnosis and how she
wants those around her to respond to it as well. It’s a daunting bar to look
at, let alone fathom jumping over, as it calls us to respond to the serious challenges in our lives—the
challenges that we have no control over, the challenges that test our faith and
cause us to re-evaluate what’s important in our lives—in a manner that is
counterintuitive to our human nature. But if we want to truly support her, and
if we truly want to move one step closer to becoming the people we were
designed to be, we’ll rise to the occasion and try our hardest to jump it. And
on days when Mom feels like she can’t jump over that bar, we’ll hold it up for
her and help her over it. Cancer may have entered Mom’s body, but it certainly hasn’t
taken away her spirit, and with her faith-filled, butt-kicking ways, it never
will.
