Jesus With Skin On

Just like they say "Don't Feed the Bears" in national parks, and people do anyway, my family has this habit of feeding my cancer and whining to feed their own. Scott bought a few snacks on the way to the hospital tonight for my MRI. The doctors are trying to better locate the 5mm tumor they will remove April 13th....if they find it.

He ate most of them. In hindsight, maybe I should have eaten more. If sugar feeds cancer and causes tumors to grow, and my tumor is too small to be 100% sure they'll find it, shouldn't I have eaten them all?

Many people have heard the story of the little boy who was scared at night and called his mommy in.

She prayed with him and tried to comfort him with reminders that the Lord was with him,

 he was never really alone.

His precious answer? "But, Mommy, I want Jesus with skin on."

I knew the Lord was with me, but tonight Scott was my Jesus with skin on.

When I get into a tall building, I always have to see the view.
Scott got stuck with filling out yet another set of forms,
while I tried to capture the old Seattle homes with the
backdrop of the snow covered Cascade Mountains.

Notice the warnings on the doors?

Because of the strong magnetic field, there are warnings for many people -

I notice they didn't warn against braces.

If my daughters, Beth and Grace, had been there

would they have been swept into the tube with me and

stuck to the inside by their tinsel teeth?

I was able to stand behind the door away from the magnetism

and get a picture of the latest machine that was supposed to help find this bb sized tumor.

The tube was really small.

I mean really, really, really small.

The technician, Ben, joked that the tube wasn't really that small for me,

because he had people three times my size try to fit into it.

Ben even offered to take a picture of me. He made me smile. It was the last smile I had for about an hour. I looked into the tube, noticed it was about 1/2 the size of the PET scan tube, and noticed this horrible mask they were going to fasten on my face. The clausterphobia was causing me a lot of anxiety.
I told him through tears, "They don't tell you all this stuff when they sign you up for an MRI." He gave me a quick hug, then went out into the waiting room and said, "Mr. P., you need to come. Your wife is crying."

Scott began calming me down with Scripture and strict instructions not to open my eyes, even while I was just sitting there. He helped me wipe my nose, push up my sleeves for the IV, lay down and get comfortable. They had to pad around my head with foam cushions and put in ear plugs. I was feeling squished, and they hadn't even put on the mask yet. When he did fasten it on, I accidentlly opened my eyes and panicked a little. I asked for another moment. The kind technician took off the mast, allowed me to breathe a few more times, close my eyes and try again.

He inserted the IV with strict instructions not to move my arm. With a few final adjustments, the bed was raised and moved into the tunnel.

It was SO dark.

But, instead of panic, I felt peace.

I kept thinking of the verse,

"I am with thee and will keep thee, in all places, saith the Lord."

I knew the Lord was with me, but Jesus with skin on was lovingly rubbing my feet, assuring me with his presence. Once he stopped for some reason, and not feeling his touch, I shook my foot until he began holding it again.

The machine made a noise somewhere between a woodpecker pecking on a quonset and a jackhammer. The noise traveled up and down the machine and I could even feel the vibrations on my hip bones. If I hadn't been under strict instructions to NOT MOVE and NOT TALK I might have been able to come up with a few comedic one-liners.

The technician knew it would be hard for me to get into that tunnel, and he wonderfully praised me on the microphone after each test. But, I don't think he realized the other serious challenge I was facing. He began each new scan with strict instructions not to talk.

For the final test I couldn't swallow or breathe for 30 seconds. It seemed like 30 minutes.

And then, after all the anxiety,

it was over,

and I had survived

with the help of the Lord

and my husband, Jesus with skin on.

If you remember from previous blogs, simple things entertain me.

Mud puddles, window cleaners, the sound of snowflakes.

Tonight, I loved the sqare glass blocks set into a slightly concave pattern.

How DO they do that?

The Longest Day

Last Friday, we drove Grace to a Bible camp for a weekend retreat.

We left about 1:30 pm, hoping to avoid the I-5 traffic.

Who were we kidding?

You people from WA already have knowing knots in your tummy.

I said "Friday" and "I-5" in the same sentence.

I was faced with a hard decision.

Let the teenager drive in rush hour traffic so I could take pics, or take the wheel myself.

I had two fully charged cameras and it was a rare spring day, bright and glorious.

Did I say there was a decision to make?

SUNBREAK!

The temorary relief of SADness, or Seasonal Affective Disorder...you know, you get depressed because it rains all the time.

Job must have understood.

Job 30:28 "I went mourning without the sun..."

Sometimes, we almost forget there is a sun, or a Mount Ranier, or Cascade Mountains, or Olympic Mountains. They become vague, hazy memories after epochs of gray moisture.

Then, the clouds part, and we fall in love, again, with the creation around us.

It almost seems as if we get a glimpse of Heaven,

and are reminded of that promise that there is always an end to the rain.

I am always intrigued by unusual beauty.
The patterns in the dried mud were amazing.


Ansel Adams wannabe.

A beautiful mud puddle, or slough.
We say SLEW....closer to the ocean they say SLOW, rhymes with HOW.

Don't we love our trees in Washington? The one thing all kinds of people agree on.

Maybe the only thing.

What I looked like all day, enjoying the scenic drive, a day of sunshine and the company of my beautiful daughters.

When the sun went down, and I could no longer take pictures, I drove.

In case you are wondering what would happen if someone took a night picture on landscape mode, take a closer look.

In case you can't tell, this is Bellevue.

We drove nine and half hours, but with the sun shining, the clouds hovering like a glistening comforter, and the sound of laughter pleasantly filling my heart,

the long day didn't seem so long afterall.

The day is now a hazy memory, like the scenery we saw for a whole glorious day, before it was swallowed up in gray again.

(click on any picture to enlarge)

Proverbial - "Needle in a Haystack"

I started this blog thinking I could just write about the fun stuff in life, like my kids and my husband and how they drive me crazy with their antics. I never thought that cancer would be a part of my blogging. The Lord had other plans. Since I have been blessed with a large family and many friends from coast to coast - east to west and north to south - this is a good way to keep loved ones updated in my Exciting Cancer Adventure.

OK, maybe not Exciting,

and maybe not an Adventure,

but it is Cancer.

Or, to be medically correct, recurrent pappilary thyroid carcinoma.

Thursday, Scott and I were to meet our new ENT, Dr. M, from Swedish Cancer Institute. We were on the 15th floor and I was enthralled with the city view below us. I stood at the window, oohing and aahing and taking pictures. Feeling a bit like a tourist, I asked the nurse, "Can you tell I'm not from the city?"

I was shocked that I could hear the street noise almost as if I were down on the street. The nurse explained some of what we were hearing were the drug addicts who were receiving free injections at the methadone clinic. She said it got even louder because of frequent fights and police sirens. Another surprise for a small town girl. Addicts receiving free injections?!?! Only in America.

Although I loved the years living out in the country, I find the city fascinating. I could see a man talking on his cell phones on his balcony, (I wasn't snooping - just observing), a few pan-handlers, the inevitable saggy pants kids on skateboards, business people striding purposefully, homeless rambling dejectedly. It seemed their walk matched their ambitions and hopes in life.

When I spotted window cleaners, I couldn't stop staring. How can they NOT be afraid? I was so entertained, I was glad the doctor was running behind schedule. Scott wasn't as easily entertained. I watched them hanging from their ropes, sitting on a small perch, and wiping with incredible efficiency. After awhile, I was able to judge which of the three window-cleaners was using the most efficient routine and felt like cheering him on like you would at a football game. I was wondering if they were racing against each other. I also wondered what cleaning product they were using....I always leave streaks....

When the doc came in, I reluctantly put away my camera and got down to business.

The surgeon went through a list of worst case scenarios that could occur during a surgery and I can't remember any of those big words.

We were surprised to find that the lump that is giving us the most concern is not one we have been following. It is behind the right jawbone, cleverly hidden in the tissue. At 5 mm, it is "the size of a bb" and Dr. M is not positive he can find it. It is the proverbial needle-in-the-haystack. Yet, if they leave it, the cancer will grow and possibily spread to the lungs.

I told the doc we were born-again Christians and had probably a few thousand people praying, between the churches across the US and overseas where we know missionaries.

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Well, I wish those prayers would make me perfect."

I know his heart's desire is to heal everyone, and it must be frustrating to know you can't, but I explained him that as people were praying for me, they were praying for him and there would be two sets of hands in that surgery, his and the Lord's.

Now I have to ask for continued prayer and for the miracle that Dr. M. will find this little tiny tumor, not primarily for my healing, but for the glory of the Lord. I pray that he would open me up and see an answer from the God in Heaven who is the Great Physician. I long for the Lord to be glorified in my body!

I will have to have an MRI (NOT ANOTHER TUNNEL - SIGH!) and the surgery date is set for April 13th. As a non-recovered clausterphobic, I find the testing more challenging than the surgery.

I'll see if I can fit that in my busy schedule. I'm also wondering if I leave my camera out, if the nurses will take pics of me since I will kinda' be indisposed....

Isaiah 41:10 "Fear not; for I am with you:

be not dismayed; for I am your God:

I will strengthen you; I will help you;

I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness."

TOP TEN REASONS TO NOT LET YOUR KIDS PAINT

I guess my mother-in-law is to blame for this. Really, it's her fault. She started this tradition of self-learning and independence when my husband was in the 5th grade. She was a single mom with five kids and a car that needed repairs. So, she bought the spark plugs and points, handed them to my husband, told him to put them in the car. When he was done, she handed him the car keys and told him to test drive the car. They lived in Duluth, MN. They lived on a hill. A steep hill.

But, because she handed him the spark plugs, my husband, 11 years old, figured he could do it. He marks his ability to fix or accomplish or master anything life hands him from this definitive moment.

I loved the concept, until it affected MY children and MY house. He began the self-learning concept with our kids when Beth was 11. He handed her a gallon of paint, a brush, and forcibly removed me from the room. I mean forcibly. He wasn't rude, he wasn't too physical, but he did use his hands to propel me from the room.

He wanted to give his kids the same "gift" his mother gave him. A spirit of determination, of accomplishment and of conquering a new task on your own.

-Top Ten Reasons to Not Let your Kids Paint-

10. Drips on the floor are hard to wipe up.
9. Drips on the bathroom sink , shower and floor are hard to wipe up.
8. Paint that hardens on your bathroom curtain will never come out.
7. Paint in hair is difficult to get out. (Beth had free highlights. And just think, the rest of you women had to PAY for yours.)
6. When you are re-painting a room your child previously painted, you have to put a lot of your color of paint on the ceiling to cover up their color of paint on the ceiling.
5. If you bend over to pick up something on the floor while clutching a full can of KILZ to your tummy, it will pour out. (DUH, Beth!)
4. If you go to the store AFTER painting, but BEFORE you looking in the mirror, it can be embarrassing. Hmm.. .who do you think went to Target with paint on his face?

(OK, maybe I should have added HUSBAND to the title)
3. If you back into a freshly painted wall, you will have paint on a place you don’t want paint, and a tell-tale place on the wall without paint where you wanted paint.
2. When kids are done painting, they just set their brushes full of paint anywhere and everywhere. They also leave out the cans of paint, the paint-soaked rags, the painting tape, the paint-stirrers, the paint can openers...and if you don't put this stuff away in the correct spot, all of it could just

d i s a p p e a r.

- and FINALLY -

1. Because when they are done,

their paint job

might actually look better

than your paint job.

Thanks, mother-in-law, for the "gift."

I really mean it.

Blizzard Hits PNW

Like every other Sunday morning, I was trying to hurry and get ready so we wouldn't be late. Somehow, shuffling everybody through the bathrooms, finding all Lost Things and making everyone eat Something for Breakfast, is still a challenge after 23 years of experience.

So, when I noticed the blizzard outside my windows, (I use the term facetiously, I know you Minnesotans and North Dakotans are laughing at me), I had to figure out how to streamline my morning Getting-Ready Ritual so I could sneak outside and take pictures.

With my dress clothes on, my hair still dripping wet, I dashed out the front door, my high heels clicking on the maple flooring and down the front cedar stairs.

The flakes were huge.

It was as if the angels in heaven were having a pillow fight and all the pillows were breaking.

Last week Dippin' Dots were falling from the sky, this week, cotton batting.

And, yes, the neighbors might have seen me with my tongue hanging out,

trying to catch some of these babies on my tongue.

Each of these is an actual clump that fell together.

It almost seemed like I should be ducking.

I wanted to lay on the ground and try to get a picture of the flakes reaching the earth.

Instead, I just set my camera on the ground.

I didn't have time to change, anyway.

The view from under the tree was stunning.

It's the same tree I climbed during the last storm.

Each flake hit the ground with a moist plop, stayed five seconds or less, then melted.

I think it was the first time I HEARD snow in my life.

The drive north was beautiful, and the traffic light.

I'm sure many were too terrified to drive.

And, yes, you have to live here to get THAT concept.

As always, the best part of a blizzard here in the PNW,

is that it only takes up a little bit of your time.

Maybe 15 to 30 minutes,

maybe a day, maybe two whole days.

This year, we actually had snow on the ground this year for nearly two weeks.

I didn't say a lot of snow,

I didn't say it really affected our lives,

but it did stay longer than normal.

If you really want to sympathize and give true awe where it should go, view the pics from my friend, Jess, surviving REAL blizzards in ND.

It will make you glad you don't live there.

You'll also be wondering how they are going to get their car out....

Killing Me Softly

There is one downside of teaching my kids to cook - they end up cooking. And, they end up cooking things I shouldn't be eating.



Bethany made these delicious cookies...can't you just smell the chocolate? Can't you just imagine the chocolate smears on your face after eating one of these beauties?



She made these cookies, then giggled that I shouldn't eat them because I was trying to cut out sugar because it feeds cancer.



As she giggled and offered me cookies, she said something like, "C'mon Mom, your cancer wants one." I think she has been learning from Grace. Then, she commented that she was "Killing Me Softly."



Killing me softly and deliciously....

Results of PET Scan

This is my pet, SPAZ, scanning my Zune. He crawled onto my lap and helped me watch National Treasure.

I had been so worried about hearing the results of the PET scan in a letter, that I kinda forgot to worry about what the results would be . Maybe it was a good diversion for a few days.

To my great relief, my new endocrinologist called me in person Tuesday evening. But, just the fact that I heard his voice on the other end of the line told me the answer I was waiting to hear - my cancer had come back. I was thankful to hear that he thinks the cancer is contained to only one of the many lumps that have grown back since my initial thyroidectomy in 2005. I have an appointment with my new ENT next week, and surgery should be scheduled sometime in April.

I was ready. I had shed my tears, I had cried out to the Lord and I had trembled at what was ahead when I first was faced with the ordering of a PET scan to test the lumps on my neck.

But, even before that, I knew. I knew in the fall when the Lord prompted me to get school done early so I would be ready in the spring.

I knew when the Lord blessed my husband and me with a beautiful, relaxing vacation to Hawaii.

He told me.

Now I have the job of telling everybody else, one of the harder things I have had to face in my life, now two times. I called family, friends, sent out emails and tried hard not to forget anyone.

I dreaded making the calls and writing this blog, knowing what I had to share news that will cause others pain, tears and sorrow on my behalf. But, I am so thankful to be loved and prayed for by many. It has been, and will continue to be, my sustenance throughout this trial.

I thought of these verses Paul penned to the Christians in Ephesus. We do not have the same circumstances, but the same desire for others - to KNOW and LOVE the Lord Jesus more.

Ephesians 3:13-16

I ask you not to lose heart at my tribulations...

...I bow my knees before the Father,

that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory,

to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man,
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith;

and that you, being rooted and grounded in love,
may be able to comprehend with all the saints

what is the breadth and length and height and depth,
and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,

that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think,

according to the power that works within us,
to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever.

Amen.

...and a few hours later....SNOW!?!?!?

I had finished drying off my camera and was going to get busy with school.

Really, I was.

But, for some reason, my trigger finger was itchy again.

This time it was snow.

Those huge, fat snowflakes that are amazingly beautiful.

They're so wonderful to watch, you almost don't mind the cold. Almost.

I grew up in North Dakota.

I shouldn't still be marveling everytime it snows,

but I do.

Jon, apparently, didn't care how cold it was....for about three ninutes.

The ziploc wasn't working well enough to keep my camera dry in the flurries,

so I ducked under the tree for a few minutes respite.

Can you guess what my next brilliant idea was?

Didja' guess right?

Didja' recognize the Go-Go Boots?

Same ol' scene, from another point of view.

A perfectly flocked cedar tree - can we have Christmas presents again?

This was taken at 11:11am, just 16 minutes after the first pic,

and just about two hours after the hail melted.

Beka is making "creme brulee" with her snow.

It probably tastes better than the hail.

Another display of nature from the storehouses of the Lord.

Hail?!?!

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, (or was I hiding from the kids?) when I heard the noise. That wonderful noise that tells you something was not quite right. Looking out the window, I knew opportunity was landing in my yard.

Like a gunslinger with an itchy trigger finger, I had to get outside and shoot something. Because the weather changes SO quickly in the PNW, I knew the moment would soon be lost.

My camera is always charged and ready, that was no problem. Finding my boots was. After giving up the frantic search, I opted for my knee-high fancy boots, the ones we called Go-Go Boots in the 70's, and tried shoving my jean pantlegs and bulky socks inside. Since I had finally found my winter coat (who put it on my husband's side of the closet under his sweat clothes? grr) I was ready to go. I found some gloves, cut a circle out of the bottom of a gallon sized ziploc bag to protect my camera and I was ready to go.

Jon spotted my crazy get-up and asked, "Do you want to borrow one of my pairs of winter boots?" I shouldn't have been shocked that he brought out my pair of boots. My MISSING pair of boots, that is. The pair that had been missing so long he claimed Squatter's rights on them.

My first view of the street. It was like it had rained Dippin' Dots. Kinda made me hungry.

Adorable little balls of hail nestled sweetly amongst all my hand-picked river rock.

More of my beautiful river rocks surrounded by hail.

I think the hail made Beka hungry, too.

I was going to make her stop eating it, because of the acid rain the natives always warn me about, but I figured,

"Hey, it is probably healthier than a hot dog!"

In Job 38, the Lord asks Job, in verse 22 "Have you entered the storehouses of the snow, Or have you seen the storehouses of the hail?

During his suffering and doubting, the Lord questioned JOB to remind him who is in control. He controls the storms of the earth and the storms of our lives; directing with measures of grace, mercy, and love beyond our understanding.

They stayed trapped for awhile, with the cedar droppings, but will eventually be fish food, I guess, since all drains lead to the ocean.

And, within 16 minutes of rushing outside to capture the beauty

from the storehouses of the Lord

it was

gone.

But, at least I know where MY boots are now.

Day Four and Day Five

Today was supposed to be the day off.

I had a few squares of chocolate, but I didn't exercise, unless you count ironing a dozen dress shirts as exercise.

The only thing on the agenda for today was to call my endocrinologist and ask how I was going to find out about my test results. The lab technician previously told me that most patients have a consult with their doctor the same day as the scan because the results are available right away, and was surprised I didn't have an appointment with my endocrinologist. I realized we hadn't even discussed getting results with the endo.

Knowing I would never get the doc on the line, I left a message for his medical assistant.

When she called back, the conversation went something like this:

"Hi, this is Mindy, I was in yesterday for a PET scan and I was wondering how I am going to find out the results of that scan."

"We will send you a letter in the mail."

"A letter? You mean to tell me if I have cancer I am going to find out in a LETTER?" (I'm also remembering that just to receive the results of bloodwork, it took three weeks.)

"If you prefer, we can make you an appointment."

"OK, that's great. Can I get in next Friday? Dr. E. should have the lab results for the blood work by then, too."

"I can't get you in on Friday. Dr. E. is booked out until the middle of April."

"April? I can't get in to find out the results of my scan until April? So, you mean I have to find out if I have cancer in a LETTER?"

"Yes, unless you prefer to make an appointment."

I thanked her and hung up. I am in shock and awe. I can't believe that a doc. who charges $500 a visit wouldn't want to see me again, even if it is just for the money!

Just to amuse myself and fight away anger, I tried to imagine what the letter would possibly be like.

Variation 1:
"Dear _______________,

We are so thankful for your business at our hospital. We enjoy the amount of money your insurance pays out on a monthly basis for all your visits and labwork. In this time of economic crisis, your money is a great economic stimulus for our office, so we can't say we feel too much regret with the recent diagnose showing your cancer has returned . Rest assured, your money is keeping us in business.


Variation 2:
Dear ____________________,

We have good news and bad news. The good news is we are now validating your $10 parking tickets for our newly built parking garage. The bad news is, that due to your recent diagnosis of cancer, you will have a lot of tickets that will need to be validated.


Variation 3:
Dear ___________________,

We are greatly embarrassed that our office is run so poorly that traumatic news, such as your recent diagnosis of cancer, has to be delivered via snail mail. If you prefer receiving such horrible news through email, please contact us through the email address provided at the bottom of the page and we will gladly update your contact information. Or, if you are totally connected, check out our Facebook, where we daily post diagnosiseseses and prognosiseseseses. Or, if you prefer, we'll Twitter you.


Variation 4:
Dear ____________________,

We are thankful to announce that your recent scan indicates that you don't have cancer. Congrats! However, the scan did reveal the location of one certain missing surgical clamp that you must have taken during your prior cancer surgery. We will have to charge you for rental for that item and personal trauma to the doctor who misplaced the item, so we expect your exorbitant bill will arrive soon.

Variation 5;
Dear ____________________,
We are pleased to announce that the result results of your PET-CT scan do not indicate the presence of cancer. However, due to your good health and coincidal drop in our county's economy, we are going to have to drop you as a patient to our clinic. You are not bringing in enough funding, so we need to concentrate more on lucrative patients, like those in Medicare and Medicaid programs, where we are allowed to charge $75 per Tylenol.

Seriously, where would they begin to find the letters they need to send out to patients? Are they from a class in med school? Instead of writing Business Letters, do they learn to write Bad News Letters and Good News Letters? Are they taught the subtle nuances a font might have in creating a better aura for receiving bad news? Are they taught that double spacing draws out the agony of the news, so keep it single-spaced?

Maybe along with a diploma and the Hypocrites Oath, they are provided with a book of letters doctors may need, so all they have to do is rubber stamp their name on the bottom.



********************************************************************************
Day Five

I really was hesitant to publish my post last night. I was so beyond the capability of deciding if my emotional reaction to the "we'll send a letter" comment was in the confines of reasonable or not, so I had to sleep on it for a day. I slept on it. I am still bothered. So, we are still praying about it.

Today I did my final step in the week-long adventure, I had to give blood one more time. It was a good feeling, in a way, to be done with the physical stuff.

But, it truly leaves me with the hardest part.

The waiting...
and waiting.....
and waiting.......
and waiting........
and waiting.........
and waiting..........


Psalm 27:14 "Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD."

A verse shared with me today by friend, Lydia,
"He will have no fear of bad news, his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord."
Psalm 122:7.

.....so.........I am
w
a
i
t
i
n
g
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Day Three

Very early morning in downtown Seattle. The buildings rise up, mingling with the fog, and makes me marvel that I would actually find such beauty in the city. I have always been a country girl.

One of the USA's earlierst skyscrapers, one of the beautiful sights we saw on the way to the hospital. http://www.smithtower.com/History.html We have learned to not focus on the traffic, the people cutting in front of you, the road rage you see, and the concentrate on the beauty around you. This was my support team for the day, daughters Rebekah, Jana and my grandaughter, Brookie, or "Dr. Brookie" as she is sometimes known.

I had the IV in my hand, they were saving my "good" veins for blood draws later. The second picture shows the input of the radioactive glucose. I had to lay still for one hour in a quiet room to let the glucose spread into my body. I was covered in warm blankets, they lowered the lights and I listened to the Psalms on my Zune. They said that some people are really bothered by this time of having to sit still for an hour. I laughed to myself, because to a Mom, this was bliss. One INTERRUPTED hour with no phone calls, nobody knocking on the door, nobody calling my name. Ah, peace and quiet.

This was the lovely drink I was offered after my 12 hour fast. MMM, good?!?!? In fact, I had to drink one and a half of these doozies. It was the "contrast" I needed for the scan.

The scan machine, doesn't look so scary, does it? From my claustrophobic point of view, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Part of my secret to surviving the 40 minutes? I didn't open my eyes once I was on the table, again covered with warm blankets. I prayed and sang hymns in my mind. They were kind enough to tell me when I was halfway done and when I had five minutes to go.

The final step is more blood work on Friday and then the Waiting Game, the hardest part of it all. My husband, Scott, has simplified the process in this way -

There is a test,

There is a wait

And a result.

This will be the story of my life, since my type of cancer can never really be cured and can never really go into remission. You just live your life always waiting and watching. Every six or 12 months, you start the process all over again.

As we discussed the next step, THE WAITING, we talked about how this is like the Christian life. We have a test, or a trial, then a waiting as we work through it and then watch for the result. The best result we want to receive from the doctor is to be cancer-free. The best result we want to receive as a Christian is to be free from the sin that so easily besets us, and to be transformed to the beautiful image of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

In whatever stage of trial you are in, the test, the wait or the result, may you look to the Lord for help and strength in the journey. He has an infinite love for you.

Your name is written in the palms of His hands - they bear the marks of His love for you.

As I wait, I am seeking to be patient and trusting.

Psalm 27:14 Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.