Donned in those fashionable surgical clothes, a cap over my hair, all jewelry removed, and a pen in hand to make an X over my right breast so the doctor is assured to work on the correct side, I face the unknown once again.
She found it during a surveillance follow-up. “Jill, you have a lump there. Have you felt it?” The answer was no. No I hadn’t felt it and no there can’t be a lump.
It was a couple weeks before the National Hearts at Home conference and my eyes were focused on the two days I’d soon be hanging with over 4,000 moms. That weekend is a sacred weekend of hope and help. All of us looking for the reassurance that whatever we’re facing in life and motherhood, we’ll be okay.
“I want to order a mammogram and a sonogram for this spot.” A week later I found myself sitting once again at the screening center. My annual mammogram just six months earlier had been clear. These two tests they ended up declaring clear again.
“Whew….dodged that bullet,” I thought to myself.
It was the Monday after the conference that her office called. “Jill, Doctor wants you to come back in and discuss the results of your recent testing.” As I scheduled an appointment for the next day I couldn’t help but think, “What’s there to discuss? They said it was clear.”
The next day she bounced in the exam room and tossed my mammogram and sonogram results my way. “Test results look good, let’s do another exam.” Sure enough that lump was still there and it was painful too, just like it’d been several weeks earlier and every time I’d touched it since.
“I don’t believe it’s cancer because it’s painful, but I don’t want to leave it in there. We also can’t do a traditional core needle biopsy when it can’t be seen on a diagnostic screening. I’m recommending we remove it and then biopsy it,” she said.
Here we go again.
So yesterday I modeled the latest in surgical gear once again (someone seriously needs to update that attire!). I’m a fact-finder by nature. I don’t do too much worrying or planning until the fact-finding is complete. So I’d been steady leading up to the surgery date.
When Doctor Widerborg walked in for her pre-surgical chat, she said, “Let’s pray,” and all in the room grabbed hands and prayed, that’s when the tears came. A couple of hours earlier my friend Becky had texted me the words of Isaiah 41:13 from The Voice Bible, “I am the Eternal God, who has hold of you right hand, who whispers in your ear, “Don’t be afraid. I will help you.” As Doctor Widerborg prayed, those words came back to my mind and I felt God holding my right hand and whispering His help in my ear.
Both Mark and my mom were there to hear the doctor say after surgery that she would be very surprised if this is cancer. Didn’t look like it to her….and she’s seen a lot.
But we wait. For the facts. We once again live in the shadow of the unknown.
Yet that’s not the shadow I’m experiencing right now. Psalm 91 promises, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” This is the shadow I choose to wait in now. This shadow of the Almighty is a place of peace. Hope. Comfort. It’s a place where we hold the hand of a Jesus who walked on this earth and faced His own “unknowns” of friends who betrayed him and a death on the cross He didn’t deserve. I’m reminded of this in one of my favorite verses, Hebrews 4:14-16. That verse came alive to me as I wrote my book Real Moms…Real Jesus based upon it:
“ Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.” (The Message)
I don’t know what “shadow of the unknown” you’re currently waiting in, but I want you to know that there’s plenty of room over here in the “shadow of the Almighty.”
It’s a bit of a messy place. Some tears. Some weariness. Some fear that wants to creep in. Some days where you simply know it’s okay to not be okay. Yet always His arms around you. His hand holding your right hand. And His voice whispering in your ear, “…don’t be afraid. I will help you.”
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