Salisbury Post- September 1, 2018
It was one of those moments in time that I still remember clearly. As my doctor and I stared at my x-ray, I braced my heart for the words that were coming, “It may be cancer.”
Momentarily speechless, my mind was glazed as I saw the spots on the chest x-ray that led her to have said those four words. She continued to talk, but I did not hear.
I left the office carrying a form for a test at the hospital, but I was also carrying something I had never felt before – hopelessness and faithlessness. I made it to the car, crumpled the form, took a deep breath, and then sat for an hour, waiting on the news to change.
I cried. I cried more. I cried loudly. I finally uttered a semblance of a prayer, “God, You know I am raising my grandsons! They need me! I CANNOT be sick!”
But… I WAS sick. And had been for six months. Pneumonia kept reappearing and rounds of antibiotics were only briefly masking the problem. There were spots on my lungs that were not going away. My body was weakened, and my family was getting used to my sickness and constant napping.
I began to mourn the loss of life as I knew it, feeling I had received a death sentence. The process continued – specialists, tests, and close friends feeding my family – and feeding my spirit. Many were praying for me, but I still felt great heaviness from the pain in my chest – and from the fear in my heart.
A few weeks later, a friend handed me a card, and as I opened it, she said, “Do you believe you will be healed?” My voice responded, “Yes.” But my mind whispered, “No.” I then saw the first five words on the card, “The devil is a liar.”
Sometimes… it just takes a friend who cares – to remind you who you are – and what you have – in Christ. The devil IS a liar – and the devil had stolen my hope – and my faith.
But…no more. My God was bigger. My God was greater. My God’s Promises were true.
Immediately, I began to believe- and praise God – for my total healing that was to come.
Several months later, after completing a scan at the hospital, I was carrying another form that said I would receive a call in a day or two with the results – and my next steps. This time, however, I was also carrying Hope and Faith.
The call came less than thirty minutes later – a personal call from my doctor, saying that the spots on my lungs were gone. There would be no next steps.
Three years later, I still rejoice over my healing.
Carry Hope and Faith with you.
Do. Not. Stop. Believing.