Cancer at Christmas Remembered by Alan Anderson

 

Memories of Cancer 2017

Readers of my blog posts might see a resemblance to a post I wrote in December 2022. You might be new to my posts, however. I pray the memories I revisit in this post bring comfort to anyone in need of hope. As I begin, here is a poem I wrote in 2022 as I remembered Cancer at Christmas 2017.

 

Cancer At Christmas: a husband’s poem for his wife

By Alan Anderson

November 3, 2022

The news is more than sad, but this year

we celebrate Christmas,

not cancer.

I will be honest in my heart,

share cries and whimpers,

feel numb,

shake a fist at heaven.

My head held up only by my hands,

offers you, my love, who brings me this news,

a face wet with tears,

frozen fear.

Why God, I ask, would there be cancer

at Christmas? Help me, I pray, help

my darling.

My love—you amaze me.

Yes, you live.

Yes, we live.

We hang decorations, drink eggnog,

romance each other, your words slipping

out like healing hands, touching me,

but it’s me who wants to support you.

We celebrate Christmas,

not cancer.

In this together,

we hold on.

Never let go of the moment,

any moment.

This illness will not last forever.

We have peace, stillness.

So, my love, sleep like a baby

in the arms of He who loves us.

God is not dumbfounded,

by this fiend,… cancer.

Joy is our companion.

We weep, yes,

Yet we rejoice. We are not alone.

Immanuel, God with us,

Is unseen yet present.

Let Him love us.

Let me hold you, my love, you, not cancer.

This year,

We celebrate Christmas.

Cancer News Memories

The prompt for this month’s post states, “December is a month filled with story, the story of God reaching down in love. This month’s prompt asks you to share a story about Christmas. It can be funny, poignant, sad, or inspirational.”

As I read over and pondered our writing prompt, memories of November 2017 flooded my mind. I took this also as a prompt to revisit my December 2022 blog post. In my experience after hearing news of my wife’s cancer in 2017, three words from the cancer surgeon live in my mind.

When the surgeon stated these three words, “You have cancer,” to my wife, Terry, in October 2017, my first thought was, “No, not again!” Her first experience with cancer occurred when our children were still toddlers. We didn’t know what to expect then, nor did we in 2017.

Christmas 2017 came with a gentle embrace of a peace that passes all understanding. We also expected in January 2018, Terry would undergo uterine cancer surgery.

Memories of Healing

I will remember January 8, 2018, forever. Terry had her surgery on that day to arrest her uterine cancer. Her surgeon was a compassionate healer. Prior to the operation, he informed me it would take anywhere from forty-five to ninety minutes. Thanks be to God; Terry’s surgery lasted only thirty-five minutes. She has been cancer-free now for almost eight years, and we thank God for His love and mercy on us.

A Reflection to Share with You

In times of personal struggle, it helps to know we are not alone. I am conscious of the possibility someone reading this post might be going through cancer or some other life-changing experience right now. May God show His mercy, love, and grace to you.

Terry and I know what it is like to stay awake at night wondering what the outcome of this experience will be. Please know this. We are here for you to offer comfort, even though miles separate us. Message me if you need someone to listen without trying to fix you. We all need someone sometimes.

You are not alone. Your illness, your tears, do not take God by surprise. Dear ones, not even cancer can separate us from the love of God. 

Alan lives in a small village called Deroche, British Columbia, with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He enjoys walking on the dike near his home, with trees all around and where he finds inspiration to write. He has occasionally written articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan’s website and blog is https://scarredjoy.ca.