The sudden wave of tears refused to stop as I came out of my oncologist's office after a yearly check up. I had just finished getting an annual mammogram as well. Though I walked quickly, I noticed numerous patients with obvious signs of cancer treatment: the gentleman with a large patch on his face, clearly covering the place where his nose should have been; a daughter helping her unsteady elderly mother walk back to the examining room, a woman wearing a wig that hid the ravages of chemo-therapy. Depressing and all reasons for tears but these were not the reason for my emotions.

Twenty-one years ago this week I left the same oncologist, holding back tears. I left the office with the news that I faced major surgery and an unknown prognosis for aggressive breast cancer. Chuck and I were beginning a journey into the foreign land of cancer totally unprepared for the trip.

We didn't know the language that included frightening words like terminal, chemo-therapy, radiation, needles, monthly hospital stays, side affects, hair loss, nausea, vomiting, depression, mouth sores, and did I mention hair loss and needles?

The journey included four day hospital stays every month for six months, getting hooked up to IV bags of poison designed to kill the rogue cancer cells, poison that also engineered a week of extreme nausea and vomiting, total hair loss, weariness and increasingly wild emotions.

Twenty-one years later, cancer treatment is not as difficult. Medications treat extreme side affects, though they still haven't figured out how to save our hair!

My walk from my oncologist's office to my car is different today. Today I am CANCER FREE!

Today I reminded my oncologist of how grateful I am that God led me to him and that he was aggressive in using cutting edge treatment that killed the cancer in my body. When I told his assistant that I have been coming to see them for twenty-one years, her eyes filled with tears and she agreed that they should put my picture in their office as a symbol of hope for patients just beginning the journey. Vignettes of those first few years mingled with the flowing tears as I walked back to my car. This is a difficult week for our family as we anticipate July 6, the anniversary of the death of our son, Mark. His death overshadows every other dark time in our lives. But this year, God timed my annual check up with the uneasy anticipation of the fifteen-year anniversary of Mark's Homegoing.

He reminded me that twenty-one years ago Chuck and I made the same walk from the oncologist's office to the car and we were frightened of the unknown. We knew that God would not abandon us but the promise of His presence didn't guarantee that He would heal me on this earth. Twenty-one years later, we have experienced great sorrow but we have also embraced great joy in the middle of the darkness. God's plan included victory over the cancer and opportunities to make memories with our growing family. He gave me the privilege of walking through grief with my husband and children so that I could help carry their sorrow and drink more deeply of His faithful love. He gave me the joy of participating in their weddings and welcoming into our family our grandchildren.

I couldn't wait to get home to remind Chuck of this treasure in the darkness. God gave us twenty-one more years together, to learn how to love each other even more every day, to learn together how to reconcile His sovereignty with His love when Mark left our family. He gave us time together to learn how to reflect redemption when our hearts were breaking, how to choose life when death seemed more appealing.

Today I celebrate life, God's sovereign love and the privilege of living for Him in a world that is longing for hope and help. I celebrate because I am seeing Him keep His promise, that what He began in me, He will complete.

Celebrate with me!

In His grip,
Sharon