Immediately after seeing the surgeon I was sent for a CAT scan. This would show if the cancer had metastasized to any other organs. The scan was no big deal, a lot of “hold your breath, now breathe, hold your breathe, breathe.” The hard part was waiting for the results.
It seemed like an eternity. The results would determine the final course we would take for treatment. They would also be the messengers of hope or doom.
A couple days later I got the results and they showed there was no visible metastasis.
But it was only the beginning. More tests would follow–x-rays, ultrasounds, internal ultrasounds, scopes, blood work–and more waiting for results. Waiting for the hammer to fall.
By the time I was diagnosed I’d worked in the medical field for nine years and now I knew what it was like to be the person whose life revolved around the next test, the next result. The waiting became almost unbearable, one day ran into another, but each test brought the surgery that much closer.
Through that jungle of tests and results and interpretations and explanations one truth pointed the way and guided my course.
Be still and know that I am God.
I’d repeat it to myself constantly. Frankly, the being still part was difficult. That peace that surpasses all understanding was hard to find. My worry meter was stuck on maximum. But the know that I am God part? Ah, now there was something tangible I could grab onto.
I knew that no matter how I felt about the situation, how I worried, how I fretted, how I impatiently waited for the next result, God was still God, He was still on the throne, He was still calling the shots, He still had me in the palm of his hand.
That was a truth emotions couldn’t manipulate. It was a lighthouse upon a solid rock in the midst of the storm beating against me.
What was the one truth you clung to when the waves swelled and the rain fell?