From Cakes to Caskets and Back Again

Round Seven at Chemo Depot

It happened so fast. In less than sixty days, after being declared cancer-free by the medical profession, I was staring at test results that found “rare and suspicious cells” in eight liters of fluid that had been withdrawn from my abdominal cavity. 

My first round of chemotherapy, deemed successful, finished in May of this year. However, I began to feel a few spasms and twitches in my abdominal area about a month later. A quick look on the internet revealed these discomforts were likely the chemo drugs working their way out of my system.

But as the minor aches turned into pain and my stomach began to swell, I returned to my oncologist. He immediately ordered a CT scan. Everyone, including my doctor, was shocked at the results. He said that in his years of practicing medicine, he had never seen colon cancer behave in such a manner. The only thing he could surmise is that tiny, undetectable seeds of the cancer hid in my peritoneum (the fat layer that surrounds the internal organs). The drugs did not eradicate, but only kept them in check during my treatments. The cells multiplied quickly once the chemo stopped.

Within days, the surgeon who removed my tumor was consulted. She thought it best to send us to a doctor who specialized in peritoneal cancer research.  While I’m thankful for those who invest their lives in research, George and I quickly found out that this one, in particular, was not patient-oriented. His world revolved around scans and blood reports in a lab setting—not people at the most vulnerable and emotional times of their lives.

After reviewing the scan from Abilene, he matter-of-factually announced I had six months to live--more or less--and the best they could do was provide palliative care to make me comfortable. After an awkward silence, he tried to offer a comforting word.

He pointed to the Bible I brought along to read and asked, “Judging by that, are you a Christian?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Why?”

“Well, then you have nothing to worry about,” he replied. We Christians have Heaven to look forward to…and that’s a much better place, isn’t it?” By then he was patting my hand.

I looked at George’s flushed, red face.  He was clinching the armrests on his chair. In other words, my Texan was about to explode.

 “Look,” I explained, “I was saved back in the 70’s. Since then, Heaven has been a done deal for me and honestly, I haven’t thought much about going. I’d rather stay here and get something done for God where it counts. Right here on earth. You know--like the focus in the Lord’s Prayer.”

The look on his face was odd: somewhat of a cross between a quirky frown and a quizzed look that didn’t get what I just said.

“Okay, “he said in a long drawl, “but you must know what to expect. You eventually will get a blockage in your colon and have to have a food tube installed. More fluid will gather in your abdominal cavity, but we can draw that off to help your breathing. And we will manage your pain with morphine…until, well, until it’s time.”

Again, nobody said anything. Then George rose and stomped out of the room. The researcher lowered his eyes and shifted around in his seat. It was obvious that he wanted to end the appointment as much as we did.

“I’m going to fight this thing, “I told him. My reason for being here is not finished.”

“All right, “he said. “I understand your need to do all you can. Let’s arrange an MRI around September and take another look at your peritoneum.”

“Fine, “I said. “We’ll make the appointment.”

Thank God, I got George out of the building before he assaulted anyone on staff, but the two- hour drive home seemed dreadfully long.

We finally agreed to calm down and regain our spiritual balance, which had sent us reeling from the “expert’s” blows. I knew I had to immediately cancel the words that specialist spoke over me as an earthly authority and put God’s word back in ascendancy. So often, people, even Christians, take the words of physicians as the final say regarding their health; but at best, they can only provide a diagnosis. If you’re a believer, God alone determines the number of your days—not a doctor, not a medical report.

After arriving home, I collapsed into my chair and wept under the strain of the past few days. You see, we were making plans to visit the grandchildren in Hawaii. I was starting to revise the third edition of my book, Cotton Butterflies. Cooped up in a studio apartment for seven months while taking chemotherapy, I only got out for medical appointments and light errands (when I felt strong enough). I was looking forward to traveling and feeling the embrace of life again.

Later in bed, I sense God cautioning me not to change my confession based on this new development. He warned that satan was trying to convince me to own this latest report by focusing on the so-called, new “evidence” that appeared to run contrary to the promises the Lord had given us nine months earlier.

We returned to our oncologist in Abilene the following week, still upset over our visit to Dallas. George broke down in the office-- something I’d never seen him do in public.

“How in the world,” he cried, “did we go in less than two months from ‘You’re cancer-free'  to ‘You’d better buy a casket'? Even Evil Knievel couldn’t make that kind of jump.” (His sarcasm (and pain) was at full tilt!)

We told Dr. Kalla everything the specialist had said, and his colleague’s demeanor angered him.  My doctor assured me that personally, he had not stamped an expiration date on me and stated there were still viable treatment options on the table.

He preferred putting me on another six-month, twice monthly round of chemotherapy containing three new drugs that proved successful against rapidly advancing colon cancer. George and I prayed, and felt it was wise to pursue another round treatment to clear my body of the remaining cells. I’ll admit: I dreaded walking through that long valley again. Most cancer recurrences show up many months--even years after a first round of treatment. A patient’s body has had time to recover from the stress of systematic, systemic “poisoning”.

I had less than two months before subjecting myself to the drugs again. Chemotherapy is good at locating rapidly dividing cancer cells, but it cannot distinguish between fast-growing, good cells in a person’s body, either--such as skin, hair, nails, the lining of the intestinal tract, and the bone marrow, where red and white blood cells and platelets are made. Red blood cells carry oxygen, white blood cells fight infection, and platelets help to control bleeding and bruising. Thus, the risks for anemia, fatigue, infection, bleeding, and bruising increase with bone marrow suppression.

I entered the hospital for my first treatment in order to be monitored more closely for side effects and any dangerous reactions. In a previous post, I related how the nurses on Parker 7, the oncology wing, had celebrated my clean report in May. They gave me a “graduation” send-off, complete with diploma, mortarboard, and cake.

As I was wheeled onto the floor past the nurses’ station, their jaws dropped. I explained my situation to them as they visited my room, tears in their eyes, one by one. I told them not to worry…that I was just back for my master’s degree!

The first treatment went well with only minor side effects. I could tell it was more powerful that the first set of drugs, and I knew a new set of challenges lay ahead for the next six months. Still, I was in God’s will; therefore, I could acknowledge that even along this familiar but more difficult way, I could trust Father God to direct my path:

"Lean on, trust in, and be confident in the Lord with all your heart and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding. In all your ways know, recognize, and acknowledge Him, and He will direct and make straight and plain your paths ( Proverbs 3:5, 6).

We are communicants within the Charismatic Episcopal Church. Currently, there are no CEC missions in Texas. When we first moved out this way, we attended a small Charismatic Anglican Church in Muleshoe near the New Mexico border. We loved (and still do) Pastor Sergio Leal and his family. When I was first diagnosed with colon cancer last October, we followed the command in James to call for the elders to anoint with oil and pray the prayer of faith:

“Is any among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord; and the prayer of faith shall save him that is sick, and the Lord shall raise him up” ( James 5:14, 15)

Father Sergio’s s visit comforted us greatly, and we had peace after my anointing and prayer. The surgery was successful, and I followed through with my first round of chemotherapy.

Within days of the second diagnosis, we heard that our former CEC Bishop, Chuck Jones of Christ the King in Selma, Alabama, was appointed over Texas to minister to communicants living in the state and start new ministries. Chuck was our bishop in our home state of South Carolina. We grew to love this gentle giant of a man who was also one of the strongest, most accurate prophets we had ever met. (You will enjoy reading his regular prophetic insights at Aslan Roars.)

We explained everything to him over the phone, and he assured us of his love and prayers. A prayer service was scheduled at his church that night. He informed the congregation of my condition and by 9 PM, I turned over and slept on my right side without any pain…something I had not been able to do for weeks. In fact, from that night on, I have remained pain-free from cancer symptoms.

A few days later, Bishop Chuck called and said that Father Dan and Debra Whitt from the Church of the Messiah in Charlotte had already planned a trip to Texas to visit family in nearby San Angelo. In fact, they were en route and wanted to stop by and pray for us. We were elated! Dan and Debra have the gift of healings, and many people have become well through their ministry.

Once they arrived, we all knew we were standing in a divine appointment. Before even hearing our story, Debra said she had sensed that just as an uprooted tree does not show its death immediately--but continues for a season to give the appearance of life--my situation was similar. As the Lord had done previously, she cautioned me not to accept the enemy’s new, intimidating symptoms and lies.

We witnessed that her prophetic word was truly from the heart of God. The couple also encouraged George and me about future ministry opportunities, and assured us that God had plenty for us to do in the days ahead. Before leaving, they consecrated a bulk host of bread and wine for us to take Communion as often as possible.

Of all things we have been instructed to follow, nothing has touched me more than the joy of taking the Body and Blood of Jesus daily. Whether you believe the elements change literally into the Body and Blood of our Savior, or like Martin Luther,  you believe Jesus is “in, around, and through” the elements, we all agree that the Lord is present in a special way to bless those who come to His table by faith. There we receive sustaining, overcoming, sufficient grace for every need.  It is a Table spread in the presence of our enemies...a banquet of all things that pertain to life and godliness for his waiting children. (2 Peter 1: 2, 3)

A little table in our apartment is now our altar. George is an ordained deacon within the CEC; therefore, he is permitted to serve me bread and wine previously consecrated by a priest or bishop.

I encourage anyone who is sick to consider daily or weekly Communion in your worship and healing confessions. Ask a pastor or priest to stop by regularly and serve it to you. I know you will experience the Lord in a powerful way. I can literally feel a wellness in my body every time I take the Eucharist. I consider it the strongest medicine I take!

Well, September rolled around and we made another trip to Dallas for the MRI. I had to drink two large cups of a white, chalky, apple flavored concoction. It made me sick three times and I told George to forget it—I wanted to go home; but anti-emetics finally got my stomach under control. George got me under control, as well. I told the nurses that they were just plain wrong in trying to make that stuff taste like apples. “I may never eat another one after this,” I quipped. And I meant it.

A week later, we were sitting in my oncologist’s office in Abilene. Dr, Kalla came in with a smile on his face. “Your scan has improved since July,” he said. “Cancer cells can still be seen on the peritoneum, but they are not as pronounced. It has not spread to any other organs, nor do we see any blockages.”

George and I let out a sigh of relief at the same time. Next, George leaned forward and asked, “Tell me doc. Does that scan look like it belongs to someone who has just six months to live?”

Dr. Kalla chuckled. “No…not in my estimation. No, not at all!”

We went into the infusion room, praising God and sharing the encouraging news with everyone. (We patients talk to each other as if we’re family…and in a way, we do have a unique bond that can be stronger than one’s natural family. You won’t find shy introductions or standoffish behavior in a cancer clinic. Talking to fellow travelers is part of our therapy—and the conversations are as frank as they are humorous.)

I’m scheduled for two more treatments, and then we’ll have a local Ct scan. I made it clear that I never want to set foot in that Dallas clinic again. My doctor is confident that his team can clearly detect what’s going on locally just as well as the specialist can. (I’ll provide another update when the results are in.)

I can tell my body is straining now under the load of so many infusions; yet thanks be to God, my red and white blood cell counts have remained normal. My hair thinned quite a lot, but did not fall out completely. I have yet to “lose my lunch”, so to speak—one of the major problems with chemo-- although I’ve had many queasy moments. Compared to the experiences of some of my companions, I am blessed to have endured so well.

We are still planning to go to Hawaii, either at Christmas or right the holidays, depending on what Dr. Kalla suggests. (My last treatment in this series in January 2.) I’ve started the revision on my book Cotton Butterflies, and launched a podcast called “Healing for Everyday” that includes teachings insights on healing Scriptures for every day of the month. So far, I’ve completed the introduction and Episode 1. They’re available on Podomatic.

My plate is full of future books, articles, and business products that the Lord commissioned long before my diagnosis; and the last time I checked, He hasn’t erased anything from the pages of my planner.

On my list is a trip to Norway to see the Northern Lights, although George insists we can see them just as well from Alaska. (Don’t tell him, but I’m warming up to the idea of an Alaskan cruise.)  Of course, if you’re in Norway, then you have to trek on over to Switzerland, Austria, and Germany, then back to London for a tour of the Tower and fish n’ chips. Oh, and stopovers in Ireland and Scotland are a must for castle ambling!

Closer to home, I want to visit Niagara Falls, and mosey through New England in the autumn. I’ll refuse to leave until I have tapped a maple tree for its syrup. I want to stay in a beach cottage in the Maritimes during a wintry bluster, and watch a magnificent thunder snow roll in over the Great Lakes.

Nevertheless, I’d forgo the wanderlust to spend more time with my grandchildren. There’d be fanciful tales, tap shoes, and imagined adventures under the sea…talk of things that go bump in the night and shouts of “I love you” at sunrise. I’d study their faces, and teach them more about God and his ways. We’d pray, laugh, and consume lots of S’mores around a fire. Lots. We’d dress up in goofy clothes and go to parades.

Will I get to do both? I hope so. I pray hard. My vision is large, my desires numerous. I want you to know I’m not waiting to feel well enough to embrace life. I’m reaching out now as best as I can with the goal of no regrets.

Are You a Kite or Balloon Christian?

This is a post from The Goinwell that features shorter, daily inspirational messages from Mary Diane. You're invited to be a part of our devotional community!

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A woman was struggling with trusting God. Her children were grown and gone so far from the home that she could no longer watch over them as she once did. One of her sons was in the Armed Forces and she worried daily about his safety.

Her husband had been recently diagnosed with prostate cancer. She dwelt constantly on what the future held if he were to die and leave her alone to handle all of the bills and responsibilities. Will there be enough? Will the children take care of me? She was weighed down so much that the thoughts stole her sleep and at times, her appetite.

She was a Christian and loved God with all of her heart. She knew worry was a sin, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to let go. All of her life she had been a "take charge" person, but now she realized that the weight of the situations that she could no longer fix were destroying her health and stealing her joy.

One day at the seashore, she watched children play along the beach. A kite was flying off in the distance, dancing in the wind with a happy youngster at the end of the string.

"That's it!" she said.

So she went out and bought a kite, and returned to the beach the next day. She prayed, naming all of her concerns out loud and "placed" them on the kite by faith. She then ran into the wind.

She watched gleefully as the kite sailed higher and higher as she let go of more string!

"Here, Lord", she whispered, "take from me what I cannot bear anymore." After a while, she reeled in the kite string and went about her daily routines. By nightfall, however, her anxious thoughts began to return and she tried to fight them off as best she could.

She returned to the beach days later with her kite, ready to try again. She felt so guilty for not being able to "let go". She hesitated, thinking of how silly she must look for actually going out and buying a kite at her age.

"Others can simply trust," she thought to herself. "Why can't I?"

Just then a child ran by with a large balloon. A gust of wind snatched the balloon so hard that the string slipped through the little girl's fingers. Up, Up it soared…so high that eventually it could no longer be seen.

God was listening to her after all! She suddenly realized that what she needed was not a kite, but a balloon. A kite was always under the control of the 'sender'. It could be reeled in and maneuvered at will. What she had to do, once and for all, was truly "LET GO"!

That afternoon, she brought back a beautiful balloon in her favorite color. She prayed again, and placed all of her frustrations, doubts, and worries symbolically onto that balloon.

Walking to the edge of the water, she took a deep breath, held it high, and then opened the hand that not only held a tight grip on the balloon, but was also once strong enough to hold together everything else in her life.

The balloon flew out of her hands! She cried as she watched it bounce to the heavens, knowing that even if she wanted to, she couldn't reach the string to get it back.

It didn't take long for the balloon to sail out of sight. She stood alone on the beach and waited. She didn’t feel any different, but somehow--deep inside--her faith held her steady.

Later on, she slept through the whole night. Over the next few days, she felt her joy returning. A song returned to her heart and her lips; God's Word began to burst forth with life inside of her!

Now, what about you? What worries are your facing?

Then, let me ask one more question: Do you pray at the end of a kite or a balloon?

Bitter Waters Turned Sweet

I'm touched by the many well wishes and prayer commitments from readers and friends. Several of them have walked the same path. Their personal stories and encouragements to "never give up" are fortifying me for the days ahead.

My powerport was inserted last Friday. Lying under the skin, it will enable me to receive my chemo infusions and give blood without becoming a pincushion. ( I have small veins that love to play hide and seek at the sight of a needle!)

I began my chemotherapy in the hospital yesterday. I’m scheduled for two days twice a month at Hendrick Medical Center, Abilene. My sister-in-law drove me over and George will be here the last night before my Sunday release. It’s a little after midnight. The West Texas winds are whipping against my seventh-floor windows, eager to find their way into the cracks of the old panes with rhythmic, gentle whistles. I find it oddly comforting.

It's quiet now, but this past week was busy. There was so much to do! Patients have to get dental work completed before therapy. Thankfully, my dentist worked me in last week and I was able to cross out another "must do" from my list.

In the refrigerator back home are cancer-fighting and immune-boosting foods that I've been eating since my diagnosis--kale, spinach, cabbage, salmon, white fish, chia seeds (labeled "flaxseeds on steroids")...plus loads of great spices and seasonings--garlic, onions, oregano, etc. A big "thank you!" to my super sister-in-law and trained chef, Shana, who researched power-packed foods and prepared dishes for George and me during this difficult time. She blogs as Chef Texas Rose.

Fox Correspondent Jennifer Griffin was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer in 2009 after discovering a small lump while breastfeeding her son. Her determination and advice for other cancer patients has helped me better prepare for what's ahead. It's the little things like lip balm, lotion for the dry skin that will follow, planning five to seven small meals a day and measuring success not one plate at a time, but often one bite at a time. Oh, and hydration, hydration, hydration!

Read her Tips for Getting Through Chemotherapy, as well as her blog.


I've been tossing around a title for these journal entries. I settled on “My Journey to Elim”. Elim was a beautiful, desert oasis of twelve springs and seventy date palms. The story is recorded in Exodus 15:22, but we need to go back a few chapters to set the stage.

The Israelites had just left over 400 years of slavery behind in Egypt, delivered by a series of spectacular miracles. On their trek through the desert to a better land, they camped at the edge of the Red Sea. Suddenly, they realized Pharaoh and his forces had followed! I guess the old boy changed his mind about letting his workforce walk away. You know how those dynasties loved to build. But more likely, it was all the tremendous silver and gold the freed slaves took on their way out of bondage--lavished on them by Egyptians glad to see the troublemakers go!

The fledglings thought for sure they were trapped at a dead end, but God divided the waters and they walked on dry land to the other side. When the Egyptian army tried to take the same shortcut, the waters dramatically closed in upon them, drowning every man and beast.

After much rejoicing, the band turned from the sea and headed deep into the wilderness. The Bible records many ups and downs with God along the way to their new home. It’s easy for us to pass a little judgment thousands of years later and say that the Israelites, after seeing firsthand so many miracles of God, should not have displayed repeated distrust in the face of new difficulties.

However, it’s not long before the Holy Spirit turns those pointed fingers around in our direction. Like me, you’ve probably never built a pyramid, but you’re as fallen as any Israelite who made bricks from mud and straw.

When you take a hit, it’s normal to lose your spiritual balance. I know I did when told I had a mass in my colon that was a stage 4 cancer. I pitched, I swayed...desperately trying to steady myself in God. I finally admitted I had no control. I let go and allowed the Holy Spirit to go to work. I no longer thought about a rescue, but simply the extravagant love of God, which cannot help but overflow a heart with thankfulness. It wasn’t long before that peace that passes understanding anchored me.

The Israelites were certainly thrilled that the Egyptians were gone, but now they faced a new crisis: three days of travel without water. I can somewhat relate. The surgery to insert my powerport was delayed. By the time I rolled into the OR, I had gone 14 hours without food or water. I had a headache and queasy stomach. Can you imagine how you'd feel after three days without what your body needs most to survive?

While traveling through the Wilderness of Shur, the parched stragglers “found” water just in time. Under normal conditions, the human body cannot live beyond three days without water. When you factor in rigorous walking and sweat loss, they could have been just hours away from death.

However, their jubilation was short-lived. The water they so desperately needed was too bitter to drink. In fact, the name of the place was “Marah” (bitterness). Here’s where it gets interesting and to many-- downright offensive. God deliberately led His people to bad water. (Remember, the cloud guided them by day and the pillar of fire by night. This was no accident!)

The late Christian author Jamie Buckingham, who personally followed the Exodus route and wrote about his experiences, stated that many springs in that area contain Magnesium Sulphate. We know the compound better as Epsom Salts. Most folks are aware it’s good for soaking sore muscles, but older readers, who grew up with mothers that employed home remedies for all sorts of injuries and ills, still shutter at the thought of taking a spoonful of the stuff to rid the system quickly of "what ails you"!

Some Bible commentators speculate that God guided the Israelites to bitter waters first in order to get "Egypt out of their systems". The Bible mentions many diseases and sicknesses common to Egyptians that God never intended for those in covenant with Him to have. Regardless of the intent, one thing was and remains clear for us today: we must continue to trust God to lead us to the answer and in the answer!

Are you familiar with the Scripture where David said, “You will show me the path of life: in your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11)

Once shown the path, I cannot tell you how many times I ran on ahead to enjoy my answer to prayer with a quick thank you and a sigh of relief. I became fixated on the blessing and forgot that only in His presence—that intimate, face-to-face fellowship--could I experience fullness of joy.

So, what do we do when the water that looks so promising from afar seems to be just the opposite when it touches our desperate lips?

I cannot stress enough the importance of this lesson. Make no doubt about it--God still uses it to train those He loves! So many precious souls have stopped here in the wilderness. They no longer walk with God because they asked for something needful and tasted only dregs.

Because of the many Christians who have become casualties at Marah, it's good to remind ourselves of a Scripture that speaks clearly to the unchanging character of God. The Amplified Version brings out the full meaning of the Greek verbs that enable us to see the importance of persevering when tempted by circumstances to question the ways of God:

Keep on asking and it will be given you; keep on seeking and you will find; keep on knocking [reverently] and [the door] will be opened to you.

For everyone who keeps on asking receives; and he who keeps on seeking finds; and to him who keeps on knocking, [the door] will be opened.

Or what man is there of you, if his son asks him for a loaf of bread, will hand him a stone?

Or if he asks for a fish, will hand him a serpent?

If you then, evil as you are, know how to give good and advantageous gifts to your children, how much more will your Father Who is in heaven [perfect as He is] give good and advantageous things to those who keep on asking Him! (Matthew 7:7-11)

When you ask for a fish and it appears you received a serpent instead, just wait. Be patient. Persevere. Decide, like Jonah, that you will not observe lying vanities. The serpent may bite, but continue to "look up and live" (Numbers 21:4-9). Have faith that beneath the serpent’s wrapping is the fish you've asked for, and that it will be revealed in time.

God delivers us FROM many threatening circumstances that we never have to face; yet, there are some things we must be delivered THROUGH. I don’t know why God didn’t bring to light the mass that was growing in my ascending colon until it had become a stage 4 cancer. Maybe things were going too good in my little world to listen. As theologian and novelist C.S. Lewis aptly stated:

"Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world." – The Problem of Pain

After tasting bitter waters, the Bible records that the people murmured and asked Moses, “What shall we drink?” I, too, had plenty of questions for God.

Lord, I’m just fifty-seven, I still have many plans and dreams…book ideas and ministry assignments YOU gave me. How can this be?

And my family! The Army will transfer my son and three precious grandchildren to Hawaii in April before I finish my chemotherapy. They’ll be so far away! How can I possibly travel to Hawaii? Putting aside the issue of not feeling well enough to travel, how can we justify a trip when we are looking at astronomical bills we can’t possibly pay off in our lifetimes? (More on that story later.)

And another thing. I’ve always believed in divine healing. In thirty-two years of ministry, I’ve seen diseased and broken bodies healed by a direct touch from you. Why, you’ve even touched ME on several occasions. What's different now?

 God wasn’t talking. Was He angry with me? No. Deep inside, I knew I just wasn't asking the right questions.

Like the Israelites, I thought I was doomed. It was tempting to sputter out all sorts of pity-laden questions. I finally wised up. Instead, I asked only one more question: “What would you have me do?”

Believe me; you get a quick answer with that one! God was right there--not chiding, but eager to help; compassionate, gentle-- just as the Word assures us in the book of James. (And in the days ahead, I’ll be sharing some of the directions and corrections I was given.)

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. (James 1:5-7 NIV)

For now, the important thing to know is that I finally surrendered to God’s will to walk through this fire, not around it. The experience will be a blessing no less wonderful and divine than at other times He ministered to my needs.

Are you wondering what happened to the folks back at Marah? Well, Moses cried out to God and the Lord showed him a tree. He cast it into the spring and the waters became amazingly sweet.*

Creation Tips website reports that village women successfully use the tree Moringa oleifera to quickly cleanse the highly turbid water of the River Nile. Contaminated water can become tap-water quality within an hour or two! Although not currently found growing around modern-day Marah, conditions in that area are ideal for cultivation of this tree. No one can know for sure what kind of tree Moses tossed into the water, and some people may question whether it could be called a miracle if something like the Moringa Oleifera was used.

But here’s the point: Whether it was a tree the Creator “just happened” to make indigenous to the area or something whipped up for the occasion, the Israelites had to once again, by faith, make their way to the edge and taste. Note: God didn’t remove the people from Marah. He turned the bitter into sweet in the middle of their crisis!

God finally explained what He was after all along. Exodus 15:25 reveals that the Israelites were being tested. Since God knows everything about us to begin with, it’s clear the test was designed to show the Israelites something about themselves. We don’t truthfully know what’s in us—good and bad—until an event comes along that threatens our well-being. Only friction and heat can bring such hidden things to the surface. In fact, the Hebrew word used for “test” in the Exodus passage means “testing under stress”.

I ask...was God cruel or did He actually do the Israelites a favor at Marah?

The destiny God fashioned for them required a nation of former slaves to see themselves above life’s circumstances, not beneath. No longer would they be the tail—the brunt of jokes and the last in line, but the head of a new nation and gatekeepers to the expression of God’s presence in the earth! The Israelites could no longer afford to live with a slave mentality!

God's people soon packed up and left Marah. As they struck out again into the wilderness, I’m sure many weary travelers wondered what new challenge awaited them down the road. But much to their surprise, they arrived at Elim--a delightful oasis of twelve wells and seventy palm trees.

God has spoken to my heart to tell you, just as He assured me, that after every Marah is an Elim. Don’t give up. Don’t let disappointment and misreading the ways of God cause you to miss this beautiful place of refreshing and fulfillment!

You may be at Marah. I was thrust there by a diagnosis of colon cancer. Regardless of why we were led to a very bitter-tasting place in life, let’s look toward the Tree--the Calvary Tree--that can make the experience sweet. If we believe, Elim’s not far away!



*I’ve got more to write about Marah and the Covenant of Healing God established with His people after they drank and were satisfied…a Covenant that is just as valid today as it was then and available to everyone!






 

The Journey Begins!

As I return to posting, I'm struck by my last entry in August. It spoke of the benefits of allowing patience to develop in our lives during seasons of physical pain. At the time, I was daily challenged by two herniated discs. Little did I know that a hidden malady had yet to emerge as my greatest test of faith and patience.

After two weeks of being misdiagnosed with a stubborn bladder infection, an ultrasound detected some sort of obstruction in my ascending colon. A follow-up colonoscopy revealed a growth and major surgery was scheduled. Because we live in a small community, I was transported to a better-equipped hospital two hours away in Abilene.

On Friday, October 5, the biopsy results came in. Since we were not expecting a report until Monday, my  husband George took time to drive back to our home in Comanche to shower and pick up another change of clothes. It was the first time he had left my side.

The surgeon walked in and asked if my husband was nearby. I explained he would be back in a few hours. Then, without warning, the words flatly rolled out of her mouth--YOU HAVE CANCER. I really can't explain how I felt at that moment; perhaps I went numb. I remember shaking my head in agreement as she laid out the Tuesday surgery schedule and what to expect. After she left, I nestled underneath my covers. All I could do was whisper, "Father God, Father God."

I debated whether to call George or wait to tell him in person. Several agonizing hours passed. Reluctantly, I called. George is not normally a quiet person--a "Type A" personality, actually--but this time he was subdued. Afterward, I felt guilty for burdening him with such devastating news so far away. My husband got very little sleep on those fold-out hospital beds while trying to keep our household responsibilities together for two exasperating weeks of medical misses. Thankfully, his brother and sister-in-law, our next door neighbors, were there to help. Also, his employer generously gave him as much time off as needed with pay. Amazing! Still, I was concerned that George had a two-hour drive ahead of him back to the hospital--already exhausted--and now further loaded with the diagnosis everyone dreads.

Within the hour, my husband called back. His voice had changed. He sounded resolute and determined. I had heard this "George" surface many times in the past when we faced difficulties. Once again, the fighter in him rose up to enter the biggest battle he'd ever encountered.

"We are going to stand against this together as victors, not victims," he said. "This did not take God by surprise. He has a plan to see us through. Let's turn our faces toward the wall, like Hezekiah, and hear what He has to say."

Then He reminded me of Jeremiah 29:11, a verse that we posted in our house since the day of our marriage: "For I know the plans I have for you”—this is the Lord’s declaration—“plans for your welfare, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

Within days, the surgeon successfully removed a T4a tumor. Eight out of sixteen lymph nodes were positive, so I will soon undergo six months of chemotherapy. My oncologist gives me a 90% chance of remaining cancer free. (God's prognosis is even better!)

Now begins our journey...a journey I never expected to take. However, we have seen early on the comforting hand of God at every sharp turn. Ahead of time, He placed us next door to wonderfully supportive in-laws. In fact, my sister-in-law Shana is a graduate of a culinary arts institute and is busy with plans to open her own restaurant. Nevertheless, upon hearing my diagnosis, she put all that aside to research cancer-fighting and immune-boosting foods for me to eat before, during, and after chemo. I came home to find a kitchen already stocked and menu ideas!

Shana is devoting part of her blog to what she discovered in her research for cancer patients and how she's helping me win this battle on the nutritional front. She'll be posting actual recipes she cooks for me! I invite you to drop in and become a follower: Chef Texas Rose

I'll also blog about my experiences and feelings along the way--frankly and honestly. There's no Superwoman here. My God and the strong, supportive people He's placed around me for such a time as this are the real heroes.

For those of you who enjoy my articles, they'll still publish. After all, I am convinced my purpose here on earth is not complete. In the sleepless, dark hours of the morning before being wheeled to surgery, I heard these words deep in my spirit, resounding several times and getting louder with each repetition:

"You have a race to run and a course to finish. I AM the Lord that healeth thee."

Every moment has once again become precious and full of purpose!