Oh, the final stretch.

Dear Mr. Hodgkin's,

It's been quite a bit of time that has lapsed since we last corresponded, but you would be foolish to think I'd spend my time away from the Oncology Center dwelling in your company. Rewinding back, as I parted ways with my radiologist that glorious day in May, she called down the hall, "We'll see you in a month, Heidi. Enjoy your summer!" Whaaat? A month?! I haven't even had a free week from you in this year of 2012 (let alone a whole month!), so this comment dove deep into the recesses of my spirit, and it was as if strolling out that door, I finally had the permission to let my guard down. I could finally take a break from fighting. My God has indeed been faithful in keeping me strong as I continually caught His whispers to stay courageous, and as I walked out that door, I began to feel a remarkable benefit that comes when reaching the end of a battle: rest. 

Stepping out into the street, I could feel my muscles relax; I lifted my head to the clear blue sky and took in a deep sigh. One month. Free from appointments, free from tests and scans, free from you. I remember grinning as wide as my round face allowed, brainstorming all the ways I could use my time, and already dreaming of what the Lord had in store for me... bring it. You see, the verse my God gave me for my Year 24 begins like this: "Taste and see that the Lord is good..." So I am confident I will see the goodness of the Lord this year... starting with your demise and moving onward to the next blessing.  All in all, excuse me for milking this month of freedom away from you for all that it's worth. Sir, I'm in no way embellishing when I say this has been the best month of my life.

So why have I returned then, you ask? Well, before my check-up appointment with my oncologist and radiologist that is scheduled for July 5, I had to subject myself once again to gulping down radioactive liquid, reclining in a dark room as the nurses waited for it to process through my body, and then lying strapped down to patient table as I was shoved through a swirl of devices. Yes, you guessed it: another PET scan. The results of this test would determine if you had come back; if this was the case, it would reveal how aggressive you really are, your permanency, and what other treatment methods I would need to submit to. On the Sunday before, I gave this update to my volunteer team and asked if they would pray for my appointment on June 26. As my Team Lead bowed her head, she said, "Lord, I pray for continued victory as Heidi goes through her test tomorrow..." As she continued praying though, my thoughts froze and my heart dropped... What?? Tomorrow?! I had been so caught up in the freedom of this month that I lost track of the days; I had no idea this monumental moment would take place in that next 24 hours.

Mr. Hodgkin's, I have to be real honest with you, and let you know how completely scared I was. I tasted what "ordinary life" was like in the weeks of June, and I desperately wanted the ease that comes from that normalcy. I was so confident walking out in May that the Lord had healed me, and how He was ready to lead me onto the next strength, the next victory (because for those who hope in Jesus, He takes us from strength to strength says Psalm 84:7). But starting that Sunday and in the days to follow, I was less than convinced... to put it mildly. My mind began to wonder: "Well, what if this is the cross I am to carry? To live this life with cancer destined to suffer?" It was as if I was already signing myself up to be a martyr forgoing every hope in the Lord's goodness.  Eh. Man, am I grateful apprehension doesn't thwart my God from acting on my behalf.

But my Blaine team has just started reading Andy Stanley's book called Visioneering, and it was in the pages of chapter 4 that God met my heart where it was at and brought me back to the vision He has for my life. You see, I still have a burden in my heart to write truth, to share more about His goodness to anyone who will listen, and to stay faithful in a faithless generation. But I got stuck with the how... How will God lead me out of this funk of a disease, how will He diffuse this anxiety I may feel before each check-up throughout the next 10 years, how will He give me opportunities to make my life eternally significant... A lot of questions to ask and feel the weight of within a 5-day span. Thankfully, my God asks me not to worry about tomorrow and goes to whatever measure necessary for me to realize that. This time, He used Andy's words to bring me back to where I need to be: at peace under His Lordship.

"How is never a problem for God. What He originates, He orchestrates. Did Moses have to come up with a way to get the Israelites out of Egypt? Was it David's responsibility to figure out how to get Saul out of the way so he could ascend the throne of Israel? Visionary believers are marked by their intense faithfulness to their vision and to their Savior. For them, the question of how is not an obstacle. It is simply an opportunity for God to do what He does so well - the impossible."

Something shifted inside and John 15:5 came to the forefront of my mind once again: "I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing." I remembered my simple call to trust and believe... and He will take care of the path.

My appointment to get the results from this PET scan is scheduled for this Thursday, July 5. But this is how loving my God is and how thoughtful my oncologist is... As my family and I were driving down the winding road to Yosemite National Park, my phone started buzzing and I looked down to see the Minnesota Oncology Center calling. As my dad pulled over to the side of the road so I wouldn't lose service, I answered with a surge of pensiveness yet excitement. After a few cordial remarks, my precious oncologist said, "I saw that our appointment wasn't until the 5th, and wanted you to come in with a positive outlook. Your tests came back normal!" Normal... exactly the language and the results I had been yearning for. I gleefully sat back into the passenger seat and couldn't help but squeal, "You're the best doctor EVER!" It is plain to me, sir, that my God indeed still hears His people's prayers, and answers in not only the sweetest of ways, but in such perfect timing...and this is when my muscles once again began to relax.

So Thursday will come and I still have an appointment marked down in their calendar, but I will arrive just as I left: with my eyes grinning up at the blue sky, my heart free as a bird, and my trust in the healing power of my God intact. I'm ready to hear the next steps...

Yours Truly,
Heid