When I Should Have Died

I used to be fearful of a lot of things. I worried about money. I agonized over work projects and whether I was competent to perform a job well done. Seeking the approval of others was another fear. Did I offend them? Will they like me or secretly laugh at me?

It’s funny the things I let consume my thoughts—such trivial matters in comparison to reality.

Money? I could always make more.

Work? I could always refine my skills.

Approval? People, I’ve learned, are typically more concerned with themselves, not my little blunders.

But a life-threatening sickness? That’s bone-wearying business. That’s real fear that trumps a host of nonsense.

You can’t control that.

I’m about to share something that can transform your thoughts—something more powerful than disease itself.

At 25 years old and six weeks pregnant, a football-sized tumor blanketed my lungs.

Life changed with one x-ray and an oncologist telling me my odds would improve by terminating my pregnancy—only he couldn’t really endorse an abortion since it contradicted his beliefs.

Meeting this physician in the ER the night of my diagnoses was no accident. Any other professional wouldn’t have treated me unless I ended my pregnancy. If I ever doubted that God was with me during the coming years of battling illnesses, this should have been clue number one.

But sometimes we don’t see God’s hand entwined in ours until we look back on our journey.

We never aborted. Kneeling in our apartment, praying for guidance, a supernatural peace confirmed our hunch that this baby was destined to live. I assumed God had a greater miracle to perform, one that surely included healing me from cancer. Why else would He have given me such a peace to keep my child?

But He didn’t.

My prayer wasn’t answered. Not the way I wanted.

When I started chemotherapy in my second trimester, I again believed God would heal me and spare me the six months more of treatment after my baby was born.

But He didn’t.

No matter which prayer position I tried or how many church members petitioned the Lord, God never removed my illness.

My daughter was born early, and I endured more chemo, then radiation.