For Wilshire Baptist Church
Some weeks crawl along or breeze by with nothing remarkable happening, and then some will make your head spin and mess with your breathing. This week has given my lungs a workout.
It started on Monday when we had lunch with my cousin Katherine – my second cousin, actually. My parents had no siblings, so I have no first cousins. But, by a quirk of spread-out births among my grandfather and his brothers, my father’s cousin Katherine is exactly my age. We didn’t grow up knowing each other, but we started at Baylor in the same classroom on day one, sat together alphabetically on commencement day, and we enjoyed getting to know each other during the four years in between.
Then, life happened. We graduated, got married, and let 39 years slip by. But, by the magic of Facebook, we’ve reconnected over the past year. So, on Monday we met for lunch with our spouses, had a wonderful time catching up and filling in the years with much laughter and even a few tears. Before we parted, we vowed to hang on tightly to this new era of connectedness. It was a moment to breathe deep and exhale, but also one that stirred a raw question in me. I wondered if this visit would be our last.
That question was answered on Tuesday in a way I did not expect. I had two scans in the morning, and by afternoon I learned from my radiation oncologist that I’m cancer free. I was expecting to hear that there still was some work to be done on the tumor in my sinus, but that isn’t the case. A journey that began with symptoms in January, a diagnosis in April and a summer of treatments, is over. Or at least it’s turned in a more hopeful and manageable direction. There will be periodic follow-up scans and appointments, but the anxious days of spring and the treatment-weary days of summer are over. After months of figuratively holding our breaths — and sometimes literally struggling to breathe with a head full of congestion — I can breathe freely again.
On Wednesday, working on an article for Baptist News Global, I interviewed an SMU professor who shared insight on the response of Dallas clergy to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963. Oh my, has it really been 60 years? I was almost four at the time and have cloudy memories of the distress and sadness of the grownups around me, so it was interesting to learn more about how that tragedy knocked the wind out of so many in Dallas and beyond.
Thursday I gave a talk to a local chapter of the Colonial Dames of the 17th Century, a national organization of women who trace their ancestry to individuals who played significant roles in the original colonies of this nation. I’m a writer and not a speaker, and these events can make me nervous to the point of shortness of breath. That reaction only intensified before we left home, when a test result from Tuesday showed up in my online portal and, to my uneducated understanding, painted a different picture from what I had been told. I sent a quick message to the oncologist asking for clarification, and while I was at the luncheon waiting for my time to speak, I got an answer: All is OK. I let out a deep sigh of relief and got through my talk with little nervousness at all.
Later that afternoon I interviewed a Baylor student who is navigating her call to vocational ministry. I find it breathtaking how people can commit their lives to kingdom work with so much conviction at such an early age. I gobbled up required courses and electives for two years in college before finally figuring out what I wanted to do, but this young lady entered school knowing who she was and what God wanted her to do. The specifics of her calling are still being charted, but her sails are filled with a spiritual wind that will guide her through those waters.
Finally, this morning we met with the ear, nose and throat specialist who leads my cancer treatment team. He confirmed what we had been told on Tuesday and what I was told again on Wednesday: There are no signs of cancer. He also confirmed there will be follow-up scans and appointments in the future, and that’s fine with me. We left his office not just breathing better, but inhaling the sweet air of God’s peace.