3. The mountain comes into view

Journeys > 3. The mountain comes into view

All I can hear is the quiet hum of the car, as we drive over rolling hills. We’re on our way to hospital to understand the scale, size and nature of the next few months. The same uncompromising faith is holding me strong, but my stomach feels tense. I look across to Andy and ask him how he is. ‘Nervous’ is his reply. He’s a very strong guy, but he watched his mum die of ovarian cancer when she was in her early fifties. This must be tough for him.

It’s as if there is an anchor to my soul that is spontaneously whispering hope, reassurance and certainty. But the clinical facts are brutal. This is what we now know: I currently have an invasive, aggressive form of grade 3 breast cancer, which now reaches the surrounding tissue and lymph nodes. A clinical reality hits me; this is not just about a lump in the breast any more. It’s about a cancer that’s moving through me physically…

I take a deep breath and spiritually connect. Due to the size and spread, the recommended treatment is -

Four to five months of chemotherapy, removal, radiotherapy, potential reconstruction, seven to eight further months of a drugs cocktail I don’t yet understand. To some degree, this looks permanently life changing in one way, shape, or another. I am told, I will lose my hair, my breast and my fertility through the process. It’s a lot to take in and for fleeting seconds I want to cry; but as the notion washes over me, another voice whispers something remarkably clear; ‘remember the truth - stand on the truth’.

I find myself instantly reciting the promises of God’s word that tell me I am chosen, loved, protected and healed. That He will be my strength, my shield and my defender. The verses that proclaim He has all authority over what happens with this.

And in an instant… I have peace - how is that even possible? As I sit here, it’s as if God Himself is right next to me. As these thoughts tumble into consciousness, I’m overwhelmed; overwhelmed and completely safe. The weight of the grace I feel right now is so over-powering and somehow, it creates a stillness that brings all the competing noise in my head to a stop.

As we leave the hospital, once again we are quiet, until Andy finally says ‘nothing has actually changed. It’s just that we now know what we are dealing with’. He’s right, and in that very second, the words of my mum’s favourite hymn seem to echo in my mind; ‘Great is Thy Faithfulness’. We may not know the journey, the outcome or the implications just now, but we do know God is faithful. On this, I stake my life.

‘God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day’. Psalm 46:5 NIV