“Noah should’ve swatted those two mosquitoes.”
Driving along a secondary highway, through a “spot in the road” community, I spotted a church sign. I laughed out loud at the sentiment regarding one of the most annoying insects we encounter in Central Missouri.
As I drove on to my destination, I pondered a question:
Why didn’t God swat those mosquitoes?
We could barely step outside in the evening this summer without being accosted by these tiny terrors who whine in my ears and leave huge welts when they bite my arms and legs. Understandably, when you live in the country everybody is your neighbor, but these particular neighbors I really do think I could live without.
My mind drifted past winged creatures to other irritants of life, all sorts of problems and aggravations that cross our paths. Like an irksome mosquito, they irritate, distract, and disrupt our days.
My mind wasn’t far from a huge mosquito that buzzed and whined every time my phone rang. Four words in a Wednesday afternoon phone call had changed my life.
“You have breast cancer.”
Suddenly I faced a flurry of appointments, tests, procedures, and consultations. I leaned hard into the Lord. I posted healing Scriptures in my kitchen, on my mirror, and on my desk. Half jokingly I told a friend that my house looked like a Bible factory had exploded. I enlisted prayer warriors in the ladies’ group at church to pray and listened to hours of encouragement on God’s promises and divine healing.
I thought of Paul, who wrote to the Corinthians of a thorn in the flesh, an unnamed affliction that so troubled Paul he pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it. Instead, the Lord left the thorn and gave Paul a word of assurance: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
I overachieved in all the areas the doctors didn’t want to see. My diagnosis: Stage 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC), one of the most aggressive types. A surgeon told me my KI-67 marker was the highest he’d ever seen. With no estrogen or progesterone receptors and no indicators of too much HER2 protein, the standard treatment for TNBC is chemotherapy, followed by surgery and radiation. Thankfully, a PET scan showed no spread of cancer to other parts of my body. Subsequently, I went for a second opinion at our State’s premier cancer center where I now participate in a clinical trial. I am closely monitored and treated by a medical team that focuses on nothing but breast cancer.
God has a reason for things above our human comprehension. While I don’t pretend to understand the hows or whys, I do know that according to His Word He sees the whole picture and works all things together for the good of those who are the called according to His purpose.
I’ve heard illustrations comparing that concept to biscuits and cake. I don’t know anyone who likes swallowing a spoonful of flour, shortening, salt, or baking powder. But mix those things together with milk and bake for awhile, and something good happens. Add some cocoa and sugar, and you get one of my favorite desserts!
I don’t mean to downplay the seriousness of a cancer diagnosis. My prayer list is testament to the number of people I know who are affected by this disease. Every time I look in the mirror I see the blessing and the burden that is chemotherapy. I tell myself that this is a good sign that the treatment is working. I tell others I’m saving on shampoo and getting ready to leave the house a lot faster. Still, I see the undeniable impacts of cancer every time I walk into the treatment center. We’ve watched as new friends navigate side effects and reactions. We’ve rejoiced with those who complete their treatment and ring the bell. We recently mourned as we read the obituary of one who came to the end of her journey too soon.
I recently finished the first of two rounds of treatment. An ultrasound shows, in the radiologist’s words, “significant interval decrease” of the tumors. Overall I have had far more good days than not, and my “not good” days are not bad. The majority of the most common and most frightening side effects of chemotherapy have not happened.
Undoubtedly I have much for which to be thankful. I still truly believe that something good will come from this journey.
God’s grace is enough… even if He doesn’t swat your mosquito.