There is no blood relation. We didn't grow up together. I guess that's why it was such a shock when I got the call last Thursday.
"We are sisters again." Tracey said.
I didn't understand.
Then she said very casually, "I have breast cancer."
"No, you're not serious."
How could this be? I couldn't breathe. I wanted to hang up right then and completely break down, but I needed the details. I needed to know how she was.
She was doing great. God's grace was upon her just like it was on me.
I, on the other hand, didn't handle it so well. We got off the phone and I collapsed. I've never cried like that. Sobs. Gut-wrenching, heaving sobs. I couldn't stop.
I would do anything to take this from her.
I don't want her to go through this. Not one moment of it.
Yet I can already see how God has graciously prepared her, every detail of her life. God will carry her through. The refiners fire will shape her, and make her even more beautiful than she already is.
She can do this.
But can I?
Wasn't my own battle with breast cancer enough?
How can I watch her endure this, knowing every detail of the battle, every pain, every frustration, every heart break?
I want to scream, "Stop! Pause! Rewind! Delete!"
I want to wake up from this cancer nightmare.
Oh, how I long for Heaven! No more suffering. No more bad news. No more tears. So often, I wish I could go there now. But God has chosen to preserve my life. I want to use each day to the fullest. I have one mission:
To teach my kids and to tell the world
about a God who loves them beyond measure,
about a God who can satisfy the deepest longings of their hearts,
about a God who can rescue them from a broken world.
|Tracey & I|