It was a sunny day in California when I got up to go to a routine doctor appointment to talk about the result of my first ever mammogram. I got in the car, not thinking about God. Listening to a CD mix of secular 70's hits ... It was just a gorgeous, breezy day. I arrived at the office, got out, locked the doors and made my way down the sidewalk toward the doctor's office. I was thinking I would need to get that pot roast out of the freezer if I wanted to cook it by Thursday. A mother was impatiently moving her two small children along the sidewalk in front of me. They were twins and adorable with their pretty matching blue dresses. I smiled as the mother held the door open to the office and hurriedly ushered them in, smiling warmly at me as she held the door for me too.

I sat down for what I thought would be a long wait. I picked up a People's magazine and waffled absentmindedly through it, not really reading anything; just trying to be patient. In a surprisingly short amount of time, I heard my name. I smiled at the nurse and was routinely weighed as I joked, "Oh, this is just my FAV part of the doctor's visit." She smiled, "I know what you mean." I sat down in the examining room and was idly leafing through pamphlets on high blood pressure, diabetes; and finally coming to stand in front of the skeletal model reaching out--gingerly touching the long, white bones of the fingers...feeling a little like a naughty child.

I was startled when the doctor appeared suddenly after two tiny taps on the door. I hadn't had to wait nearly as long as usual. Hmm, They must not be very busy, I thought. He was a friendly young doctor as he said, "You like Alfred?" And nodded toward the skeleton. I laughed, "He needs a little weight on him." Dr. Yserve smiled as we took our respective seats, "Yeah, we're working on that."

He shuffled through some papers and then he said those words that no woman wants to hear, "Well, Sharon, you have an abnormal reading." I remember sitting there with an idiotic smile stuck on my face. I was floored. This was my first mammogram! My first! I was only 42, but the dr. felt with the history of breast cancer I should have one done. He looked at me so patiently with just the right touch of empathetic concern in his face. Concerned, but still professional. I heard him say something about just very tiny abnormalities. May .. Nothing. Sending you ... hospital for ... indepth exam. New machine there. I took the paperwork that I was to take with me to the hospital, went out to my car, got in, cranked it up, turned it off and just sat there. In a matter if a few minutes, everything had changed.

Outside, it was the same day; inside everything felt terribly wrong. My body seemed to be my enemy. I thought about how it might feel to lose my breasts...worse yet, to die of breast cancer. Would I be brave or would I grow bitter and resentful? Somehow, I made it home. I called my mother in Alabama. Her words were just so ... Mom. She talked about God. He was going to take care of me. Understand that I wasn't in the best place in my heart with God. I wasn't thinking about prayer and God's love or His healing. I hung up, put on my swimsuit and went to sit by the pool. I felt so alone. No one could go through this but me. No one could understand. I sipped my tea, took a deep breath and fingered the paperwork which I had brought out with me. I wanted to toss them all into the pool. I wanted to pretend that this wasn't happening. I needed to call my kids.

I went to the hospital and took the 2nd test. They told me if there was anything further, someone would call me. I desperately searched the young girl with the cherubic face and brightly colored scrubs with the tiny animal print for ANY sign that she'd seen something ... But there was nothing there but the professional smile it seemed all medical personnel possessed. I wondered briefly if there was a class for that. No Emotion 101. Pre-requisite to Professionalism At All Cost 102.

I went home to wait. Mom prayed fervently. I waited. Even attended a couple of services at a church that reeked of commercialism. I waited some more. The phone rang. Two weeks later. Some things I heard, and some things were lost in a fog of despair that suffocated everything from the sun to my very life. I cried. Panicked and all the while my mother's voice was the quiet reassurance that only comes from experience with the miracles of God. She told me, you are going to get through this. God is going to get you through this. I heard it. I tried to believe it. I desperately wanted to. I needed to. I went to Sacramento and was swallowed up in a large building for my appointment with the specialist, Dr.Patel. He was cold and distant. He looked over my mammogram test and in a crisp, dismissive way, said, "I doubt you even have cancer. I really don't see anything here. But we will have to make a final determination after the biopsy. Okay?" And that was it; yet somehow, it was reassuring. He was so certain. I called my mother. I felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. I began to live my life just as I had before. Back to my daily routine without a thought for God. Without even a whisper of Thank You, Jesus. Just like that, I went back to the way things were. As if I never had need for God.

Then a call from his office. The fog returned. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I heard, "...results showed...come in ... next week ..." I wrote the date down and hung up. I sat down. Again, I called mom. She began to talk about God again, and I felt a surge of anger. Why was she talking to me about God when I have breast cancer? I went to the appointment to discuss the surgery. He spoke of wanting to remove my breast as if we were discussing where to eat lunch. "It is my opinion that removal if the entire breast is the best option." I wanted to scream, "FOR WHOM?" I thought about mom. She talked so much about God. I decided I was going to put my trust in Him this time. I decided that if He could get me through this without removing my breast, I would trust Him. I knew somewhere in my mind that God's love is not conditional; and I felt I shouldn't be bargaining with Him over faith; but I needed to prove His love for me. I firmly told Dr. Patel, "No. Don't remove my breast."

He looked surprised, obviously not used to a patient speaking up. I said, again, "No." He said, disapproval dripping from his voice, "You will be in for another surgery if we go in and find dirty margins. These days, you can have reconstructive breast surgery right there as the breast is removed; and your insurance will pay for that."

Emphatically, I said again, "No." He shrugged as if he were thinking, If you want to be crazy...that's your perogative. I stared at him stubbornly resolute and restated, "No." The surgery was scheduled. Both my kids arrived with my grandson in tow. I woke up from the surgery with the beautiful face of my little grandson peering over the railing right into my face. It was shortly before the Fourth of July. I was sore, but I felt good. Briskly, I was dressed and sent out the door that same afternoon. We went home, and my mother called. She had such joy in her voice to hear me. She said she and my aunt had been fasting. I hung up feeling more positive than I had in months. It had been a long journey. We celebrated the Fourth of July in the Bay Area. We watched street performers, laughed at the huge seals that lay fat and happy on wooden platforms that had been placed in the water just for them. It was a great day.

My children left and my life began to resume. Two weeks after the surgery, the doctor called again. Dr. Patel himself made the call. He seemed surprised as he said, "Good news. We got it all. No more surgery is required." I was ecstatic. I called mom. It was a Sunday night, the last day in July. She said to me, "God told me you would not die from this." I had such a feeling of joy that God had taken care of me. I had trusted Him, and He did not fail me. I often think about if I hadn't made that call of faith with God, I would have lost my breast unnecessarily. I am happy to report that God has healed me of breast cancer. I know that my mother's faith sparked my faith; and it is the reason I was healed.

It is my prayer for you that when you are having trying times, you will remember that God cares. He says in His word, Cast ALL your cares on me; for I care for you. He doesn't say cast SOME of your cares! He says cast ALL. He doesn't say some of your cares are too petty, too small, too big, too inconsequential ... He simply says cast them ALL on me. May God put His hedge of protection over you and yours; keeping you as you come and go. In all that you do. In all that you go through. In every moment, may His perfect grace keep YOU in perfect peace. Much love...Sharon