My sister-in-law called tonight. She found a lump in her breast and the diagnosis is
Ductal Carcinoma, which, as far as breast cancers go, has a promising recovery rate. She will have a lumpectomy and radiation and she sounded almost peachy about the whole thing.
I know I'm being harsh and that I've had an hour to process and she has had close to two weeks since her first encounter with the idea, but she said she's "at peace" and knows that God is in control. And I'm irritated, and frustrated, and pissed off! At HER! And I couldn't tell her that... because of what I've been through, because I know people felt that way about me. And I didn't want to hear it.
When I had my first heart attack, and then my second, which led to a single coronary bypass surgery, I didn't question anything. I didn't ask for a second opinion, an alternative treatment option or even the credentials of the surgeon who would be calling the shots, holding my heart in his hands and piecing it back together. I didn't question anything because I felt guilty and ashamed. I was fat, out of shape and abusive to my body. I deserved to die, and if not die, then at least suffer a great deal. I had no right to question anything, and I had no one to blame but myself. I accurately presumed that everyone in my family felt irritated, frustrated and pissed off at me!
I had been warned so many times. Doctor after doctor after doctor begged, ordered and bribed me to lose weight, get fit, take care of myself. But I didn't, or couldn't... not sure which it was... I didn't have the will power I guess, or the right motivation. I didn't love myself enough, someone told me. Another suggestion was that I didn't respect God's creation or "temple" enough- so that would be calling it a sin to be fat... thus the guilt and shame. It didn't seem to matter that in every other area of my life I was successful, amazing even, hard working, creative and definitely motivated. But my weight - at almost 300 pounds- was beyond me. People actually would tell me things like, "Just eat less and move more... it's easy". uh hmm... sure.
I understand that being fat and having a lump in one's breast isn't necessarily a fair comparison. But six years ago, my sister-in-law had a mammogram that looked suspicious. She was sent for an ultrasound and it was inconclusive. Doctors recommend a minimally invasive biopsy of the shadowy area in question. And my sister said, "no". Her breast, her choice. She said at the time that her feelings were peaceful about the decision, that God would have told her if it wasn't the right one. I respected that, but still worried. She swore off mammograms forever, believing that they were just another way for the medical profession to make money and create fear in women. Then, six years later she felt a lump in that same suspicious spot...
So that's where the irritation, frustration and anger comes in. She could have done something before now. They could have caught it immediately and taken care of it. She chose ignorance over assurance and in essence chose death over life. Just like with every bite of food I ate that was more than I needed or not nutritiously valuable for my body, she made a decision every day to ignore something her body needed. I ignored my body's cry for help... and I shortened my life expectancy by many years, I believe. Now my sister has cancer in her body that even if removed, will threaten her health for the rest of her life.
Does God know the number of our days? Yes, I believe He does. Does He know the choices that we will make which affect the length of our lives? Again, yes. Does it even matter then, that we pay attention to how we live our lives, or is the length of our time here predestined, precluding any effort on our part to live healthier, stronger, longer or smarter? I have to believe that a God that gives us free will would also give us the rewards of using that free will to make good choices, bettering ourselves in every area so that we can live longer, healthier, happier lives.
However, people die of heart disease and cancer every minute of every day. Young people die. Good people die. REALLY good, godly people die who definitely don't deserve it. People who have made all the best choices for their health and who make the world a better place, who glorify God and bless everyone they encounter, just die... And then some people who don't deserve it, live long, sickly, miserable lives. I don't get it. I don't expect to get it... ever. Not everything makes sense and I can accept that there are things that I just won't understand this side of heaven.
But I won't give in to the mentality that God is so in control of me that I can't control the length of my life. I trust Him to show me how to live each moment in ways that please Him and bless the people around me. And I don't worry about what comes next, after this life. I don't even think about it much. I can't. I'm too busy trying to love people into that "next life" to worry about how many jewels I'll have in my crown or rooms in my mansion.
I really do want to live a long, strong, adventurous life. And I want to live it with my sister-in-law by my side, rockin' on the porch together, praying for our children, grands and great grands, worshiping in the spirit, breathing in the goodness of God, sharing the joys and trials of life... for many, many years to come. Oh God! let it be years and years and years...
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