When Faith Meets Fear

"When faith meets fear, courage is born. I used to believe that having faith meant not being afraid . . . but now I realize that the goal of faith is to conquer fear. If I refuse to feel afraid then I don't cry out to God for help. But when I admit my fear to God, I find my faith again . . . courage that comes from resting in my Father's arms. He scooped me up and I felt safe again. I have felt a calming peace resting in my Father's arms." (by Sara Salloum)

Sara is a bright young seminary student whom I was mentoring when she was diagnosed with cancer 2+ years ago. By e-mails to her friends, she passed on many important lessons she learned through her experience. The quote above was transformed into art by one of her friends, and now graces a card which I received from Sara yesterday. (She had to find a new mentor last year when my own cancer made me unavailable for weeks at a time.)

The oncologist switched my treatment to taxol. It's related to the kemo I first received starting a year ago. It could act the same way, causing what they call "taxol flu" beginning on the third day. This time I'm getting a lower dose once a week. Because it carries more threat of allergic reaction, they precede it with a superdose of benadryl. It slammed me asleep as expected, and even after we returned home I slept the rest of the afternoon. But I woke up in time to prepare dinner and enjoyed a normal evening. Today I'll go to the office.

Two weeks' saved mail came with the post office truck yesterday afternoon. What a beautiful time I had opening the many Christmas letters and cards. Friends are so precious! Have I said that before? From time to time I've heard of people who keep Christmas cards in a basket at their dinner table. Each day they look at one card or letter and pray for the sender(s) as they give thanks for the meal. We're going to try that this year. (We aren't as disciplined as many of you are. I hope we can follow through.)

Earlier this week I heard about two individuals who had been battling cancer and then died unexpectedly from "other" causes--probably chemo damage. I asked the doctor if my liver, heart, lungs, or other organs might be silently incurring irreversible damage. He smiled and said, "Not a chance. That's why we run all these blood tests before every treatment, so we'll have an early warning. Your numbers are always perfect." He is well aware of my amazing prayer team, and I think he wishes all his patients were so blessed.

Thank you so much for hanging in there with us as we move into the second year of this journey. I don't think you can begin to imagine how important you are. Yesterday morning when Chuck called from the office to tell me about another significant rise in the CA 125 tumor marker, I felt sad and afraid, naturally. I turned it over to God, and my next thought was this: "We aren't carrying this burden alone. Think of all those dear friends who are checking the blog today to see how to pray!" I do think of you, and I thank God for you.

By the way, the taxol might remove the wispy hair that's been trying to grow out for the past half year. Prepare for another year of wigs and hats.

Love,
Carol