Be Still & Know

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the day of my follow-up mammogram happened to be World Cancer Day. I’ll remember that date for the rest of my life.

Time for that follow-up mammogram, again.

While checking in for the appointment online, I came across the “estimated cost” page, followed by the prompt asking how much I’d like to pay today. Annoyed, I texted Kyle to give him the lovely news that even though this was my normal annual mammogram, I would be billed again because of that “unconcerning, probably benign” spot they would have to check… again.

I’ll never forget telling him that if they didn’t find anything this time, I definitely would not be going back in six months. I’d wait it out and go again in a year.

I’ll also never forget Sherry, the ultrasound technician who complimented my shoes. I was impressed by her knowledge of trendy sneakers when she asked if they were Vintage Havana. She wasn’t “old,” but she was older than any of the other ultrasound technicians I’d had thus far, and I liked that she was chatty… and that she clearly had good taste in shoes.

I wasn’t nervous, but I hate the awkwardness of ultrasounds.

Complete silence, other than the sound of pressing buttons on the keyboard, followed by the “beep” the machine makes when capturing an image.

So awkward.

I always look intently at the screen, trying to make sense of what they are taking pictures of, even though I have absolutely no idea what I’m looking at. Sometimes I’ll glance at the technician’s face to see if I can catch any indicators of concern, which they clearly are trained not to show.

Sherry at least talked a little, indicating that she was looking for “that spot” to make sure it was continuing to diminish since my last visit.

It became evident to me that there was more going on than I was aware of when Sherry veered off course from the area they had been checking in past visits. When she got almost to my armpit, she rolled over something that felt different, and then I saw the dark spot on the screen.

Sherry began taking measurements and a lot more pictures than she had been, and the chattiness stopped too.

I immediately knew what it was. Strangely, there was no question in my mind. I knew exactly what it was. Yet I felt almost as if a blanket of peace had just been laid over me, a peace I can’t even explain. I watched quietly as Sherry completed the ultrasound.

When she left the room, just like in times past, I was instructed to “hang tight” in case more images were requested. While waiting, also like in times past, I found myself talking to Jesus. But this time, I wasn’t annoyed.

It’s very hard to put into words the feeling I experienced, but it was as if Jesus sat down beside me and put His arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, like a parent would do with a child when they need to tell them something important.

“Do you trust Me? If you trust Me, I’m going to use this to restore that situation you’ve been praying about.”

That’s what I heard in my spirit.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. Not sad tears. Not scared tears. Happy tears. Grateful tears.

“God, if this is cancer, which I think I know it is… yes, I trust You. If this is Your will for me right now, I’m willing. If this is what it takes, You have my yes.”

God revealed to me in that room how He intends to use this trial for good. He told me the “why” right from the beginning. I know that’s not usually the case, but I’m so grateful that He did.

Knowing that will be all the motivation I need to make it through this. I pray that one day I will have the opportunity to share His faithfulness in fulfilling the promise He made to me in that room. But until then, that promise is what will give me the strength and hope to endure wherever this leads, whatever it takes.

When Sherry came back to get me, I was greeted by another familiar face. A friend who works in the office had intercepted my results and didn’t want me to be alone when I received them.

Seeing her at the door is when reality sank in, and then the tears came.

I followed her to her office, where she closed the door and comforted me, explained what would happen next, and assured me that she would be there every step of the way to ensure that I was well taken care of.

I can’t remember a thing the radiologist who came in to speak to me said, other than “biopsy.”

I’m incredibly thankful for my sweet friend. She worked some magic and got me in tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.

God’s provision in action.

Whatever it takes.

Later that evening, that phrase revisited me again. That same voice spoke to my spirit again:

“Whatever it takes? Whether this is cancer or not? Whether it’s easily treatable or not? Whether it’s a long, drawn-out, hard road or not? Whether it means healing this side of Heaven or not? Do you trust Me, Lauren? Are you willing to surrender this fully to Me?”

My mind was immediately flooded with memory after memory of the tears I’ve cried and the defeat and discouragement I’ve felt over that situation I’ve been praying about for so long. That situation that has swallowed up every ounce of me for years.

And then I remembered the promise I received from Him in the waiting room that day, that He would use this to bring restoration and peace.

With every ounce of confidence in me, I said, “Yes. God, if this is what it takes to fulfill Your purpose in my life and in this situation, yes… whatever it takes.”

It’s ironic how, in that moment, the weight of the burden I had carried for so long was lifted while I was in the midst of processing the heaviness of a cancer diagnosis. Such a surreal moment, almost like exchanging one for the other.

But now there is peace.

And strangely… anticipation.

Yes, anticipation to see how God uses this situation as He continues to write my story.