Life Lessons Learned Through Having Cancer by Lynn Dove

No one likes those valley experiences.  We want to stay on the mountaintop and bask in the sunshine or Sonshine as some may call it.  The thing is, I tend to learn the most life-changing lessons not on the mountaintop but down deep in the valley.  Look at Psalm 23, particularly verse 4. 

A psalm of David.

¹ The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
²     He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
⁴ Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

The Lord is with me always, but it is in those valley experiences, I cling to Him for survival!  On my own strength, I would not be able to get through those dark valleys, and I learn the greatest life lessons during those most challenging times.  

In 2001, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  My mother had passed away from the disease in 1990 and I felt a great sense of foreboding at my initial diagnosis.  I had two young children and a teenager, and I cried out to God about the unfairness of this situation not just for me but for my husband and children.  How could He allow this to happen to us?  Fear and trepidation threatened to overwhelm me until God began to reveal a greater plan and purpose for me and my family through this experience with cancer. 

The first life lesson I learned quickly was that I was not alone.  God never leaves or forsakes us during crisis times. (Deuteronomy 31:6)  I experienced His Presence profoundly throughout my cancer journey.  God's Word was a constant Source of comfort and encouragement.  I was surrounded by an amazing support system of family, friends and church family.  People poured themselves out in service to my family and to my own specific needs.  The freezer was filled with food, the house was regularly cleaned, my children were looked after, and when I was too weak from chemotherapy treatments to attend church, the Worship team came to my house for a private time of worship!  

The next life lesson I embraced was that God did not want me to "waste" this experience.  John Piper wrote an article I read and took to heart about 10 ways to waste your cancer.  If God had purposed that I go through this experience, I knew He would be glorified in it.  God gave me the strength and wherewithal to face the surgeries, and chemo treatments with as positive an attitude as I could muster.  This allowed my young children to not be fearful and we could talk openly and honestly about cancer and about how God was good no matter what was happening to me.  I prayed with my surgeons and nurses, and had opportunities to share my faith with them.  When I joined a women's support group for those going through breast cancer, I prayed for those precious women who were in the throes of battle with me.  I have had numerous opportunities then and now to share my journey with cancer either through writing about it, or speaking about it.  In a 9 part series on my personal blog, "Journey Thoughts", I wrote about my cancer journey about what it means to be a "Thriver", because that is exactly how God changed my entire perspective about surviving to thriving through cancer.

Lastly, I do not take for granted the time God has given me this side of Heaven.  I would not wish cancer on anyone, nor would I like to go through that journey again.  That said, I praise God for healing me and allowing me the opportunity to experience Him in ways I never would have had it not been for cancer.  I pray I did not "waste" cancer, but used that valley experience to draw closer to God, to point others to God, and to always remember the life lessons that He taught me along the way.

Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com 

I Can See (More) Clearly Now - Marnie Pohlmann

The saying "Hindsight is always 20/20" may not be true if we don't take the time to look back for the lessons the past can teach us.

I admit there are things in my past I do not enjoy looking back to. I have needed to look back at past pain to heal my damaged emotions and self-concept. The exercise is not pleasant, yet it is necessary and may be necessary again in the coming months so I can see more clearly.

I have tried looking only at good memories, or fun stories my siblings have told, yet I cannot help but see the painful memories that bookend those times. These dark moments are part of my life and part of what has molded who I am today. However, the light of God's presence is also part of my life and who I am. Of course, this truth I didn't see at the time, but as I look back, I can see more clearly now.

As a little girl, I was afraid of the shadows that came out at night when the house went silent. The comfort of a small bookmark with a shining cross pinned to my wall, I can see now, was letting me know that even though what I feared still approached, God was hiding my face in His chest. God was present in my darkness, connecting with me. (This is the inspiration for my blog, Phosphorescent.)

A few years later at Bible camp, God revealed Himself to me in a new way.  I understood what was happening in my dysfunctional Christian home may continue, but God would be with me if I wanted Him to be. I said, "Yes, please," and invited Jesus into my heart. God was connecting to me amid life’s confusion.

As a teen, I was making plans to run away from home. Before I could run, my parents took my younger brother and me from BC to Ontario to visit some of my brothers. I took the opportunity to get a job and stay in Ontario, sharing an apartment with my brothers while I finished high school. The unwritten rule of the apartment was that if I was not at school or work, I was at church. I joined in youth events that included memorizing Scripture and writing for contests. God was directing my path, connecting with me.

As a young married lady, I learned to drink coffee - and liquor. We played slow-pitch with a partying group of friends and went to the bar to drink and dance. It seemed that every time we were at a party the song "Spirit in the Sky" would be played. This song is not about God, yet never failed to remind me that the Spirit, God, was in the bar, disappointed but not judgmental, just letting me know He was with me. Even in drunkenness, God connected with me.

Eventually, God caught my attention more fully, and then that of my husband. In many ways, God directed our paths as we healed in one town, grew in faith in another town, and finally went to train at Bible School in a city. The whole story is too long to go into here, but God changed our focus from Chaplaincy to Pastoring. God led us to our small church in northern British Columbia where we had desired to live even in our partying days. We were unaware of the church until God introduced us to it through non-believing friends! God continued to connect with me in unique ways He knew would reach my heart.

I see more clearly now when God connects with me. For example, God used my husband's favourite song, "It is Well with My Soul" to assure me in a frightful situation that it was well with my soul because God was with me.

 In 2013 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had surgery and radiation, and was prescribed Tamoxifen for the next 5 years. Over the next 2 years, I had more surgeries for cancer concerns that turned out to be benign. In 2016 when another cancer concern came up I chose to have a bilateral mastectomy to put an end to surgery.

During those years I had also developed Seasonal Affective Disorder;

I began experiencing symptoms of secondary Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from my job, which was compounded with the resumption of PTSD triggered by my childhood;

I felt medications I was taking, especially the Tamoxifen, were contributing to my depression and anxiety; 

During my mastectomy, my husband found out he was quite ill and months later was diagnosed with lymphoma so needed chemo - before and during his treatments complications brought him close to death several times;

As a Federal employee throughout all this, I was caught up in the "Phoenix fiasco" that continues to affect the pay of thousands of government workers.

Wally is presently doing well, and physically I am as also. I still struggle with mental health issues though and continue to reach out for help. I can see (more) clearly now, some of the ways God has connected with me through this dark time - and they are amazing! I will write about them all at some point, but this post is already longer than it should be.

Have you taken the time to look back, no matter how difficult, to see when God has connected with you? Perhaps as believers, we see this more clearly, but unbelievers can also become aware of God's presence in their past and present. He is never far away. Seeing God gives hope for the future. God reveals Himself in ways that are uniquely meaningful to each one of us.

God wants to connect with you.

*photos compliments of CCO license, Pexels.com and Pixabay.com

Marnie writes to show God is present, and that makes all the difference. 

You can connect with Marnie at Phosphorescent.

Obedience -- Janet Sketchley

The NIV is my usual Bible of choice, but every so often I’ll pick up a different translation. Sometimes a phrase in a different version jumps out at me.

When the Apostle Paul made his final trip to Jerusalem, the Holy Spirit warned him there was trouble ahead. Paul’s friends begged him not to go, but he said, “You’re looking at this backwards. The issue in Jerusalem is not what they do to me, whether arrest or murder, but what the Master Jesus does through my obedience. Can’t you see that?” (Acts 21:13b, MSG*)

Let’s make this personal to our own lives. Whatever the stress, fear, pain, can we say “The issue isn’t what happens to me, but what the Master Jesus does through my obedience”?

What the Master Jesus does through my obedience. What will He do, if we trust Him with our circumstances, and choose to obey? After all, it’s not about us at all...it’s about Him.

*The Message MSG Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson

© Janet Sketchley, 2008
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For devotionals, reviews and conversation, stop by Janet Sketchley's blog, God with Us: Finding Joy.

The Crippled Lamb - Bonnie Way

This story won an Honourable Mention at an Inscribe Spring contest a few years ago, inspiring my grandma to submit it to the Olds Albertan, starting a series of animal stories in that paper. The story was later reprinted in the Edmonton Journal as well.

Straw scattered in all directions as the ewe lunged towards the far side of the pen, leaving behind her a tiny white lamb with droopy ears, big eyes, pink nose, and soft hair on his face. The other lambs dashed after their mother, but this little one’s attempts to follow only ended with him tumbling into the straw in the same place he’d been sitting. He stayed there until Vern reached over the edge of the pen to scoop him up.

The little lamb hung in the big hand, looking even more pitiful, as Vern passed him over to me, saying, “You can have him for nothing; that’s about all he’s worth.”

Something in that comment stirred the fight in me. That lamb would get every chance to live. Riding home, Mom called him Ebenezer, meaning ‘he whom God has helped,’ for he would need all the help he could get. He was tiny, weak, and crippled. Not very good odds for an orphan lamb, who have less chances of surviving anyway. Mixed formula isn’t the same as real milk, and lambs bottle-fed at certain times, instead of getting their mother’s constant supply of milk, don’t grow as fast. Orphan lambs are also more likely to get bloat or illness. Ebenezer had these things going against him, but his mother had also either had troubles birthing him or had stepped or sat on him. His legs were shaky and weak, almost useless.

I had to hold him when I bottle-fed him, for he couldn’t stand and drink at the same time. Though at first I had to coax him to eat, he soon developed a healthy appetite, bunting the bottle from his sitting position. When he finished, I would help him stand up and encourage him to walk. He’d get his three weak legs under him and hop around the pen, until his legs got tangled in the straw and he tumbled down again. He never appeared to be in pain; as far as he knew, it was normal to have weak legs. That never stopped him from trying to chase me or the other lambs.

About a week after we got him, I went out and found he couldn’t walk. His left side appeared totally paralyzed. I helped him stand, but he could only support himself on two legs; his left legs just hung there. It was a mystery what happened to cause this latest set-back, but Ebenezer wasn’t one to let it bother him.

When he started walking again, it was on only two legs. He’d push himself up and take off, doing fine as long as he could keep going. But when he stopped, he would lost his balance and fall over, and have to struggle to his feet again. The cats would sit watching him, this little lamb barely half their size. He’d scurry over to check them out, and invariably fall on top of them. But falls never deterred him; he would be up and at it again as soon as he’d rested a minute.

That was life as normal for Ebenezer, until he broke his leg. Bad luck seemed to chase him everywhere he went. I made a splint for him as best as I could, and bound his leg securely, but a break on his left hind leg above the knee was very hard to fix. At first, Ebenezer had troubles with the splint, because it was big and awkward. I wondered if it did more harm than good. He kept falling over, and I kept picking him up, worrying that he was hurting himself further. But he wasn’t content just to rest in the straw; after every fall, he would try to get up again, and so I let him keep trying.

In a few days he’d gotten used to his splint, and was going around as before. When I saw him starting to use his splinted leg – adding the occasional push to the other two legs as he darted around – I knew it had healed. So, three weeks after he broke his leg, I took the splint off, and Ebenezer started using three legs, chasing the other lambs around as best he could.

He never became a big lamb, always being slightly smaller than my ewe’s lambs or even the other orphans. He got a rather bushy face, with curly wool on top of his head and under his ears. In the evenings, when the lambs got frisky, he’d lead them around the pen, hopping stiff-legged like a deer on all four legs. He was the fastest, and could dart, dodge, stop, and take off again without any hesitation.

He loved to follow me, and was happiest when he was with me. I had to learn to sneak out the gates, for Ebenezer was fast and small, and could slip out behind me before I could stop him. Then he was most stubborn about going back in, and as he got bigger it became a tug-of-war between us as I tried to push him back inside. Sometimes, when I let him go with me, he’d stop to nibble on something and I’d get a little ways ahead. Then when he noticed he was being left behind, he’d kick his heels up, give a twist, and be off after me as fast as he could.

In the fall, as I watched him charging about on four strong legs, I smiled, remembering the little lamb who came in the spring – the little lamb who was “worth nothing,” but who wouldn’t give up.