Monday, March 25, 2013

A Little Good News

"Bad news on the doorstep"... it was a line in a song but now it was my reality. I can't remember the exact wording of the headline, but it's timing and irony were unsettling. Reaching down to pick up the paper, I heard my mother in a worried voice asking me to fetch her jacket from the canoe. She had forgotten the word "closet" and had substituted another. Yet another "c" word had invaded her brain. My dad, in desperation, had planned this trip and began loading suitcases into the trunk of the car. Laetrile was a controversial treatment for cancer and had been banned in the US. Dad was willing to go all the way to Jamaica to save his beloved, so now we prepared to drive them to the airport.

The doctor had said there was no treatment available here for Mom's form of cancer and that she likely had two months to live. A diagnosis like that hits you in the gut with a feeling of utter hopelessness. My dad, the eternal optimist, firmly believed if all the doors close, you open a window. He began to search for alternative treatments and found this hospital in Jamaica that specialized in natural cures for cancer.

Did he know, like I knew, that the headline was a message... a harbinger? The newspaper told the story of a local family whose son was battling cancer. The parents had been the objects of criticism as they fled to Mexico seeking laetrile as a cure for their boy. We had followed the story for months and it came to a conclusion on the day my parents were flying to Jamaica. The young boy had lost the battle and it was plastered across the front page. Who are we to blame them for trying to save their son? Who could blame my dad for wanting to save his wife?

Mom called me several times while they were on the trip. Some days she sounded like her old self again - as if the fresh air and sunshine were lifting her spirits above the pain that racked her body. Hearing her voice gave me hope, but those hopes were dashed when we picked them up at the airport. In my head I can still see the paleness of her face as her wheelchair came through the corridor from the plane. She was getting weaker and thinner and losing the will to fight. I remember telling my husband, Bob, that I needed to prepare myself to let her go. As Dad wheeled Mom out to the car, my two-year-old, Darcy, sat on her lap getting reacquainted with Grandma and asking questions about where they had been.

Somehow I had celebrated a lifetime worth of experiences with my mother in just twenty-two years. She was my friend, my teacher and a dependable listener. Most of what I knew and understood about God and the Bible came from my mom who had led me to the Lord at the age of five. She had lived to see me get married and was there at the hospital when we our first child arrived. Now as I was about to celebrate my twenty-third birthday, I was expecting our second baby. Sadly, mom passed on to glory a month before our second little girl was born.

The grieving was eased by knowing Mom's great faith was a testimony of her relationship with Jesus. It was sometime after her death that the Lord brought to mind something that had happened years earlier... another headline that read: "Quake Jolts Indiana, 19 Other States." I was a mere twelve years old when that headline landed on the doorstep. The day before the headline, I was at my mother's bedside and she was dying... and I was praying - when, suddenly, the room began to shake like God had grabbed our house and grabbed my attention. My prayer was a simple one: "Please let my mom live long enough to see my first child." Ultimately, my mom rose up from that death bed and recovered completely from her illness. God granted her another eleven years with us, and for that news, I'm very grateful.

2 comments:

Wendy Hill said...

On the day you wrote this post, I received news that my younger brother's testicular cancer has travelled to both his lungs and his liver (stage 4). They've already been through a battle with their nine year old daughter defeating leukemia. I can totally relate to your statement, "A diagnosis like that hits you in the gut with a feeling of utter hopelessness." I literally couldn't breathe when I got the news. His oncologist says it is beatable with chemo. Only God knows what kind of future my brother has. Like you, I'm praying for small graces - the ability to see his oldest daughter (14) get married some day. Leaving it in His hands, but still struggling with the news. Thanks for sharing your story so eloquently.

Darcy Wiley said...

I shared some from this story recently as we talked about our childhoods in relation to how we perceived God. I always wished Grandma Elsie could've stayed around, but if we couldn't keep her, I'm glad we had such memorable times together and testimonies to carry forward. Thanks for passing along all the good and hard stories.