Finding a Voice

Last Friday one of my colleagues was diagnosed with malignant, fast-growing cancer. She had only been in pain for two weeks -- thought she had overdone it at the gym, thought it was sciatica or herniated disc, felt like a wimp for wanting so much ibuprofen.

Today, after working through this on both personal and official levels I feel like I've been hit by a truck and can hardly hold two thoughts together in my head let alone speak them coherently. We in leadership have been managing information -- deciding what needs to be told, telling people who need to know, especially students. We've been making space to comfort, pray, and grieve with students and colleagues. And we've been doing our own grief work. Yesterday I remembered how my colleague and I felt a bond, but schedules and responsibilities made it hard to spend much time together.
- We both had hearts for the nations, and one way into that was teaching English to speakers of other languages.
- We played Settlers of Catan with other colleagues on associates' welcome day in August.
- One time, when things were a bit awkward between us, I was asking the Lord for a connection. I sat beside her in chapel and we were wearing exactly the same combination: brown skirt, pink shirt, black jacket/cardigan. Who wears those things together? Well, we did, on exactly the same day. Oh -- and we both have blond, curly hair. It was rather healing and a lot of fun. :-)
- Wish we could have spent more time together.

In my prayers since Friday I have seen her lying in the back room of a cottage. The door was open and she was resting. She was quite alert and in good spirits that whole time. On Tuesday I saw Jesus go into the room and slam the door. I smelled burning and wondered ... Later that day I learned that things had gotten worse and that attempted radiation had not gone well -- hence the burning smell. I got to see her on Wednesday evening. A group of us had gone from Briercrest to support her family, especially her husband. I didn't expect to see her, but as I was leaving around 10:30 the family offered so I accepted. I told her about the cottage and said, "Jesus is taking very good care of you." She whispered, "He always has." And I replied, "But now it's very special care."

It was amazing how present she was to each person who saw her. She recognized and said something personal to everyone. During our brief minute together she took a deep breath and whispered loudly, "Have fun with your Ph.D." And she repeated two or three times something about a good future for me.

The pain in her head was so excruciating that she was practically blinded. Even so, she told some other colleagues, "I can't see very well, but I can see the love of Jesus clearly."

We wait and pray. I pray for healing. I am aware of the many possible outcomes, but the one I beg for is healing of her body. However, my hope is not in the miracle -- my hope is in the Lord.

One of these days the door will open on that room in the cottage and she will emerge. One way or another she will be healed, whole, surrounded with the light of Christ and all who see it will be in awe.

Last night I read Psalm 4 and prayed for her to sleep in peace. This morning I thought that this ordeal is her sacrifice to the Lord -- but that doesn't make it feel "right."

5 Offer right sacrifices
and trust in the LORD.
6 Many are asking, "Who can show us any good?"
Let the light of your face shine upon us, O LORD.
7 You have filled my heart with greater joy
than when their grain and new wine abound.
8 I will lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone, O LORD,
make me dwell in safety.