I received a call from the Cancer Center on the way to see my surgeon. The voice on the other end of my cell phone said that the cancer center had been forced to close and they were at the moment trying to find a place for me to receive the scans I needed before my treatment determination could be complete. Ok, God. This is Yours, too. I said a prayer - not really for God to handle it, because I knew He was going to supply my needs. The prayer was actually for me so I would continue to act like I believed He was going to handle all my needs. "And God, please help me not to puke or otherwise be sick in this car." Then I told Kevin, who (thankfully) was driving for me, that everything was going to be okay. We still had an appointment to make with my surgeon.
After what my surgeon called remarkable recovery, he walked me to his receptionist's desk following my checkup, I thought, to make my next appointment. I remember thinking I had really outdone myself. Yes! I've followed directions, I've eaten well, and I'm really going to fly through this like gang-busters! Now on to the the next challenge. I can do it! What he handed me at the appointment desk was unexpected. "I want to share something with you that I think could help," he said as he slipped a small hardback book into my hand. Help ME? I thought he said I was doing a good (correction "great") job of taking care of myself? He went on to explain that a former breast cancer patient was kind enough to share this book with his office and he had subsequently loaned the book out as he saw a need. "Just take your time reading it, let it sink in and bring it back when you're through so I can continue to pass it along." You know, my roles have really changed. I'm quite used to seeing "those kids" who need encouragement and often I recommend books if I believe they might help. After all, I know how to GIVE encouragement; it's kind of my occupation. But now, my doctor is handing ME a "help" book. I wonder if I gave him the same look that some of my kids give me when I make the offer they really can't refuse? What are they going to say? "No, I'd rather not have help?" Like me with my kids, I wonder if my surgeon silently questioned as to whether I would read the book or not? But regardless, he's taking the risk that I will bring it back and he won't have to invest in another copy. I looked down at the bright orange and pink cover of Thanks for the Mammogram. Then I wondered some more. It wasn't huge; probably one, two days tops. How hard could it be to get through?
On to scene two. At that moment, the cancer center called and they found a way to complete two of the three scans I needed and were still looking for a place to take me for the big one. My surgeon and his nurses graciously jumped into the conversation and began searching places around their offices for me to have a full body bone scan. We thanked the nurses and doctor for their help and with book in hand, we left to drive to the Cancer Center to have two scans, thinking we would then be driving back to my surgeon's office for the last scan of the day. "Still, God is handling everything," I kept telling myself. "It's all gonna' be okay." On the 45 minute drive to the center, I began the task my surgeon had given me. Sometimes I think too much. Before I had even opened the cover, I wondered what the surgeon knew that I didn't. What was he not telling me? Why did he think I wasn't going to make it very well if I didn't read this book? What weakness did he see in me that I did not see? Sometimes, thinking too much is counterproductive.
From the Foreward and Acknowledgements, I realized that Laura Jensen Walker, author of Thanks for the Mammogam, was a breast cancer survivor and through this book, she was going to help me find humor and the healing it brings. In reading her words, she sounded like a person I would want to be around, simply because she doesn't take herself too seriously, she cares for others and she likes to laugh. Okay, this might be cool. I probably could use a little levity right now. That realization came just before my cell phone rang again and the Cancer Center reported that they had located a place for me to complete the last of my scans and I wouldn't have to go far - just right across the street from the cancer center. "My God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus." That's Philippians 4:19. It's awesome and The Message version is even moreso - "You can be sure that God will take care of everything you need, His generosity exceeding even yours in the glory that pours from Jesus."
Because of these orchestrated interruptions in what I had planned for my day, God was able to guide me to help from my surgeon, to completion of the scans I needed, to a surprise visit to my future Radiology Oncologist's office, and to a place in my mind where I, the helper, admitted I needed help. Help from my husband, help from my surgeon, help from B.J., the scheduling receptionist at the cancer center, help from the humor of a former breast cancer survivor. And it's okay.
Sometimes, for whatever reason, we say everything is alright, but it's not. And people can tell. There are times when we feel we have to keep it all together, but others can easily see that we are kind of falling apart. My Father said, "My grace is sufficient for you. My grace is perfected in your weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9 So when I am weak, He is strong and He is maginified in my life. God sends all kinds of opportunities our way so He can give us help in our times of need. It really doesn't matter what we're going through. What matters is that we do finally realize that God is there, has been there all along, and wants to help us when we bring ourselves to the point where we don't mind admitting that we can't do it all. As Laura Jensen Walker said, "Take off the Super Woman cape."
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