Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024. My heart was heavy and my mind was anxious. As our worship team led us in the closing songs, our pastor reminded the congregation that if anyone wanted prayer, a member of the Arise prayer team was waiting in the back. I didn’t know Diane at the time, but I lowered my head and quickly sat down next to her. “I’d like prayer for a biopsy appointment I have tomorrow,” I whispered to Diane. “What kind of biopsy is it?” she asked. “It’s a breast biopsy.”
Suddenly, Diane perked up and said, “Well I had breast cancer in 1999.” Immediately, two thought pathways flooded my mind: ‘Noooooo, nope, not happening. Lord, you are not confirming that I have breast cancer,’ and, ‘Here is a 24 year breast cancer survivor, sitting next to me and praying for me. What are the odds?? This is not a coincidence, only God could have orchestrated this divine encounter.’
On Monday morning, Eddie and I drove to the medical center where the radiologist performed the biopsy. I remember lying on the table feeling almost hopeless that it would be benign, as the doctor struggled to drive the tool deep into the very hard tissue to retrieve the samples.
On Wednesday, I received the phone call no one ever wants. “Is now an OK time to talk?”, the doctor asked. I knew, this is not good. But I still could not process when she said, “unfortunately, it’s malignant.” Things were kind of spinning, and I couldn’t sit down, I just paced around, my heart racing. Eventually, I found myself walking out my front door, standing in the grass with the phone, I was stammering out questions, “but how long has it been there? What stage is it?” None of this information could be answered. I would need imaging, first a breast MRI, which they already had scheduled for me the following day. Additional testing would be performed on the tissue to find out what kind of breast cancer. I had no idea that there are at least 8 types of breast cancer, most people don’t until they’re diagnosed. It’s still Holy Week. As I look back now on this week in Jesus’ life, this is the day known as “Spy Wednesday”, otherwise known as the day that Judas betrayed Jesus. Betrayal is an accurate word for how I felt: how could my own body betray me this way?
The rest of the week was somewhat of a blur: the breast MRI wasn’t horrible, and I remember the technician reassuring me, “nothing can hide on this MRI.” Good. Let’s hope it only reveals the one tumor we know about. While it was confirmed only one tumor in my breast, the MRI also showed an enlarged lymph node, indicating the cancer may have spread.
Over the weekend our family was a bit of an emotional mess. It had only been about six weeks since my stepdad had passed, and this was the first Easter without him. We were all grieving so heavily, and busying ourselves with preparation for our large family dinner. And in the midst of it, trying to process the news that I have cancer. My mom, God bless her, could barely keep herself together. I could hardly take it after a while, so I mustered some of her old advice, grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to look her in the eyes (but she could hardly maintain eye contact without crying), “Mom, I need you to get it together. I am going to be OK.” She nodded, then looked away.
On Sunday our family gathered after church at a small community center in town because Mom was not up for hosting at the farm without my stepdad, and honestly, none of us kids were up for it either. It was too fresh and too painful without him.
That day I did my best to smile and enjoy the day as much as possible; I received lots of hugs and encouragement from aunts, uncles, and cousins. I answered questions on what I knew, which wasn’t a whole lot at that time. As the day was winding down this desire I had was getting stronger, I so badly wanted to be prayed over. At church I was really wanting someone to offer to pray over me, but I wouldn’t ask. As I mingled with all of my family and extended family I couldn’t shake this desire, I want someone to pray over me. But for whatever reason, I didn’t have the courage to ask anyone…I didn’t want to ask.
After the littles finished their egg hunt, a few of my cousins were taking group photos, when one of them approached me. Pepper walked up and asked, “Cass, would it be OK with you if some of us prayed over you?” A resounding YES. What happened next was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. All of the women in my family, cousins, aunts, great aunts, my mom, my sister and sister-in-law, they all gathered around me as I sat down in a chair. Each woman laid a hand on me, some on my shoulder, my arm, some held my hand, some ran their hands through my long hair. And they prayed.
Peace washed over me, like a warm basking of sunlight. My Heavenly Father didn’t just see me, He wasn’t just walking with me, He heard the heart cries of my deepest desires, and He answered. Never once did He abandon me. He went before me, and made a way. Surely this God, who sees my innermost desires and loves me enough to orchestrate something this small but deeply meaningful, surely he will hear and answer my prayers for healing. And He did, and continues to bring healing to my heart, mind, body, and soul today.
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