I have had a post churning in my heart about Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Days in the adoption life because I never want to give the impression everything is all perfect here. It is not! We have our up days and our down days.
That post never came together but I opened FB on Sunday, January 17 to read the post below sharing the diagnosis of cancer for a precious adoptive friend of mine, Rebecca.
Rebecca and I met each other in China way back in 2010 when we were adopting SJ and she Claire. There is something about being in China away from family and surviving each day with a new child that brings families close. We became instant friends and the rest is history. Even with the passing of time and certainly the miles between, we have continued our friendship and supported each other through some pretty big stuff.
But THIS is the biggest so far. There was no way I could sit quietly by praying alone. I need ALL of you on your knees praying for my friend! She has an amazing husband, Mark, and four beautiful children that need us to pray as well. God is a healer and will hear us. PRAY!
Rebecca is a strong, beautiful person who spends her time caring for her family, loving everyone around her, and advocating like crazy for orphans around the world. She is important and has much left to do. She is an amazing writer @ La Doce Vita, Ungrind, and No Hand But Ours.
Please read Rebecca’s post below and leave a prayer for her in a comment. I will forward them all to her for encouragement and to let her know, we are ALL fighting for her, with her, always. Blessings and love to all who do!!!
With biopsies and appointments behind us, Friday found us knee to knee with a specialist hovered around a pathology report and a breast diagram. Before the sun even got a chance to shine that day, the cancer diagnosis was official, the word malignant highlighted and arrows drawn to the offending lump.
We’ve weathered a season of storms over the past few years, some shared and some not shared. And it’s breast cancer that’s stirring up the next waves. The battle lines have been drawn, and it’s time to “fight like a girl”. We are girded up though, because we come at this knowing from experience after experience that God’s grace is found in deepest waters. That even when storms rage, He passes out peace that surpasses understanding.
I’ve thought all week about who to tell and how to tell it.
Pity makes me squirm, I don’t want to share for the sake of attention, and I just want to have fun with my people without talking only pathology and prognosis.
…I wanted you to hear it from me, even if on Facebook. (Bless it.)
… I am a writer who writes to figure out how she feels.
…I believe courage involves vulnerability, and I’m not afraid to tell you about the ugly cries.
…Though meds, surgery and radiation are powerful, prayer packs much more might.
…I already have stories to tell, a week and half in, about how God has made His steadfast love known.
So, if you are a willing pray-er of prayers, you’re enlisted with our deepest gratitude.
What all of my heart wants you to know, wants you to see, is that God is still good. We all love to follow a happy diagnosis with floods of thanks to God for His goodness. But, thankfully, I don’t believe His goodness hinges on my circumstances. He’s good when the news is good and He’s good when the news makes you weak in the knees. I know this to be true, and I’m counting on it.
So, cancer it is, and we’re ready for battle. Bring on the specialists, appointments, treatments and pink ribbons. Oh, and probably a boob joke or two, plus some awkward public service reminders to all my much loved females to do self checks. Go ahead and get yourself comfortable with that.
Courage, dear heart.
I will not fear bad news. My heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.