The greatest fears I have ever experienced in life (aside from my separation from God prior to being born-again- see my Experience of Grace) all have a similar thread- each situation involved some element of not knowing what was coming next. The unknown has always terrified me the most. Once I could see God’s plan unfolding, my anxieties settled and peace began to form. I am learning that this is due to my need for a sense of control over my life, when the control has always rested in God’s hands.

When I was 19, I was diagnosed with leukemia. I had just started my freshman year at a local community college. All of my high school friends had gone away to four-year universities while God had clearly revealed to me some 10 months prior (my senior year of high school) that I needed to stay close to home. That moment is as clear to me as my experience of Grace.

I was driving home from my job at the local grocery store. I had been asking God for months to show me where I should go to college. I had been considering lots of small colleges 4+ hours away from my home, my church, and my community. Without realizing it, I had been seeking out places that were spiritual deserts. I had asked God over and over to tell me where I needed to go to school. I had been dissatisfied with the thought of staying home to commute for the first two years of college, because I thought I would miss out on the traditional college experience of living in a dorm, meeting new friends, joining clubs, etc. My pride wanted something grand and worldly.

On my drive home, I came to the last stop sign before I arrived at my house. At a literal and spiritual crossroads, I knew I had to choose God’s path or my own. Finally, I surrendered to God and said “I’ll go anywhere to school, even this community college, as long as you are in the plan.” At the moment of my surrender to his will and laying down what I wanted, what I thought would be best, I was filled with clarity. It was vivid in my mind of where I would begin my college journey. I couldn’t see then why this was God’s plan for me to study locally for the beginning of my college years, but I knew I needed to follow his direction. I trusted that His ways were higher than mine.

The most terrifying part of my journey with cancer was the beginning. I had sensed something was wrong with my body for a few months. I had started college and was working 25-30 hours each week at my job at the grocery store, but I was always. So. Tired. It didn’t matter how much I slept, I never felt rested. I also began noticing my arms and legs were covered with bruises. I was naturally clumsy and didn’t think much about them. I had fallen down the stairs at my home- it had been raining and the boots I was wearing weren’t on my feet properly. I slipped and fell with my shin landing on the edge of the step. My leg began to swell and bruise into shades of purple and black I’d never seen on my body before, but I dismissed it as a bad fall. I also began noticing that these tiny red specks would pop up on my shoulders and face for seemingly no reason. I later learned these are called petechiae (puh-TEE-kee-ee), and they are basically due to bleeding under the skin from minor trauma or because of a blood-clotting disorder. Like leukemia.

March 15, 2011 was a whirlwind. It began with what I thought would be a simple PCP visit where I was expecting to learn my iron was low. They would prescribe me some pills, I would take them, and be better in a few days. That was my plan, my sense of control. After seeing my body speckled with petechiae and the angry bruise on my leg, the physician ordered a simple finger-prick blood-clotting test. Usually with this test, the patient’s blood clots within 15-30 seconds, no more than a minute or two. After several minutes my finger was still bleeding freely, and the room began to spin unexpectedly. The heightened energy and concern of the nurses combined with the tiny amount of blood seeping out my finger altered my senses. My ears filled with cotton and the room started to go black. The nurses’ voices began to fade to nothing and in my next breath everything was vivid again, especially the sharp chemical smell that burned in my nostrils. I later learned that they used smelling salts (ammonia) to keep me from passing out.

Our dialogue after was a blur. I sensed that my mom had been contacted at work just minutes down the street and would be there soon. Tears began to well up behind my eyes without warning. “What is happening to me? Why is everyone so panicked?” I had no idea how bad my condition was. I was just there to get my iron pills.

My mom arrived and additional bloodwork had been ordered. We waited for the results. I began to sense the seriousness, but I was still waiting for some kind of medication so I could be on my way. I had so many assignments hanging over my head. And I had to work that day at the grocery store. My schedule was full. I didn’t have time to be sick.

After waiting for what felt like an hour at least, the doctor on shift gave me the news that my platelets were almost rock bottom and my white cells were elevated. He knew this was bad. My mom knew this was bad. I was still clueless. I wasn’t a health major. I was going to school to be an art teacher. And I was in an online art history class that was kicking my tail with assignments at the time.

We were transferred to a specialist an hour away. As we sat in the waiting room filled with elderly patients, I pulled out my composition notebook and began to outline the paper I needed to write. It was due in a few days, and I had no idea what I was going to write on. I had read the sign on the door as we arrived, but thought “what’s an oncologist anyway? I think one of my high school friends is going into that field, whatever that is…” I was oblivious to it all until Dr. Dianna Shipley sat with me and my mom in an exam room and explained “this is very serious.” She ordered a bone marrow biopsy to get a better look at my bones to see what exactly was causing my platelets to diminish, my white cells to increase, and my body to fight so hard to stay alive. It began to sink in.

Moderately sedated through the biopsy some 3-4 hours later, I chattered and sang church hymns, probably some secular hits, too. I remember the nurses discussing the medications they were taking, where they were going after work, and encouraging me to keep singing. I think I was supposed to be fully asleep. A bone marrow biopsy at the time involved making a tiny incision on the patient’s hip/back area in order to cut a sliver of bone out so it could be examined under a microscope. This one didn’t hurt. It was the first of many to come over the next several months, and those would not be as painless.

I finally drifted to sleep and woke in a hospital room. I remember Dr. Shipley holding my hand while my family stood around the room. She spoke the truth with compassion: “I am not certain yet what kind, but your bone marrow is clearly showing a form of leukemia.”

The nervous expressions I had seen all day, the worried tension in the car, the quiet responses all made sense now. Her words crashed on me like a wrecking ball.

I had cancer.

“Was I going to die from cancer at only 19 years young? What about all of my dreams for life? How could this be happening to me?” were the thoughts racing in my mind. In the early hours of the morning after I had gotten the news, I laid in my bed in my parents’ house and prayed, “Is this all the time I have, Lord? I haven’t even begun to really try to be a Christian, to really work for you…” It was as if I had been waiting for this great sign to start following Jesus wholeheartedly although I had been a believer for nearly a decade. I knew that my works wouldn’t amount to anything in comparison to the righteousness that had been applied to my soul, but I knew it was my reasonable service to live my life for Christ.

My soul was prepared for eternity, but I didn’t want my life to end this way, not this soon. I cried out to God within my heart: “Is this it? Is this the end of my time on earth? Do I need to prepare to say goodbye to my friends, my family, my dreams? I cannot do this without you whether I live or I die.” I had never dreamed I would need to ask God these questions while my age still included “teen” in its name, yet I knew He was my only hope. If I was going to see any day in my future as “cancer free,” it would be because of God. Not in an audible voice, but my soul heard the assurance that leukemia wouldn’t be my end. Peace washed over me that “it was going to be ok.”

From that moment on, I found strength to take the next steps. Rotations of doctors, medical offices, and hospital rooms were all a blur for the next several weeks. The outpouring of love, donations, and prayer were utterly overwhelming. I found a connection with people across the country that I never dreamed could exist. So many were whispering prayers and calling on the name of the Lord on my behalf, for my healing.

Trials are opportunities to exercise our faith. We have zero control of what is to come, but we know the one who does. Our struggles in life are “level up” moments for our faith to be strengthened. It is challenged to go farther than it has even gone before, stretched to deeper unknowns.

The enemy is always working to keep us from our purpose, to sow fear and uncertainty of what is to come. Elisha’s servant in 2 Kings 6 couldn’t see the power of God working on their behalf. With his natural eyes, he could only see what the enemy wanted him to see. Through the grace and power of God, his eyes were opened to the angelic host of chariots surrounding them who were prepared to fight the battle for them. To the world, the children of Israel appeared weak and outnumbered, like the odds were stacked against them. When it seems all hope is lost and we are humbled by our weakness, God’s abilities shine through like light beams on a prism. It is then that His power is made incredibly evident both to non-believers and fellow believers. In these moments where every other resource has been exhausted, we know that our miracle is from God.

I imagine David was scared to death when he faced Goliath who was at least twice if not triple his size. I’m sure Esther was afraid to petition the king; he could have killed her just for coming to court without an invitation. Ruth and Naomi had to possess at least a slight inking of fear while traveling to Bethlehem alone, in danger of being assaulted, robbed, or sold into slavery. Mary, just a young Jewish girl, not even married yet, was given the role of carrying THE son of God in a time when her people were facing persecution. None of these knew the details of how God was going to pave a way for their rescue and His glory. Each of their lives were filled with unknown circumstances with much graver potential consequences than most of us face in our modern society. Yet, they pressed on. They trusted blindly in a God who is sovereign over what happens next.

The scriptures tell us over and over to “fear not,” because it’s our nature to be cautious and wary of the unknown. We have craved circumstantial knowledge since the beginning of time. We don’t know what’s next, and maybe that’s the point. We have hopes and dreams, but we have to lay them down and follow Him, trusting that He has already orchestrated every moment of our unknown into something greater than we could ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

This is Part I of my journey through leukemia. Find Part II here.