It was mid-October, 18 years ago. I was a busy wife and mom to two boys, ages nine and seven, and I worked full time as a project manager at a high-stress consulting firm. My days were full, and my nights should have been restful.
Instead, I kept waking up in a panic, convinced I needed a breast exam.
At first, I brushed it off. But it happened again the next night, and the night after that. Each time, I woke up in a cold sweat. I firmly believe the Holy Spirit was prompting me to act and to save my life.
Then one morning, standing in the shower, I felt a squishy lump. And I knew.
The breast exam I scheduled led to a biopsy. By the end of that same week, I had a cancer diagnosis.
If you've walked this road, you know the time between hearing "you have cancer" and learning how serious it is may be the most frightening part of the whole journey. I cried all the time. On Sunday mornings, I couldn't hold myself together during worship. The music would start, and the tears would come.
I knew I would lose my hair. I knew chemo would make me sick. I grieved for the woman I had been before the diagnosis.
Yet somehow, deep in my spirit, I knew from the Lord that this cancer would not take my life. I clung to one verse more than any other:
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you."—Isaiah 43:2
That promise became my anchor.
Before surgery, I faced an agonizing decision: lumpectomy or mastectomy. I had to choose without knowing what stage my cancer was or whether it had reached my lymph nodes.
I wanted to do whatever it took to stay alive for my husband and my boys. So I chose a double mastectomy.
On the day of surgery, I felt like I was walking to the guillotine. But my husband, Dave, and his brothers and sisters were right there with me, keeping me laughing until the very last minute. Their love and support were such a blessing.
At the same time, my own father was dying of kidney cancer. My sister carried much of his care during those months, and I'm so grateful she could be there for him while I was sick. Even on days when I didn't feel my best, I spent as much time with my dad as I could. Those moments are a gift I still treasure.
Chemotherapy was hard, and I often went to treatments alone. Dave needed to stay home with our children, and that was simply our reality. As I sat with the IV drip, I knew what was coming: several days of feeling sick. Each session felt like scheduling a bout of the flu.
If you ever have the chance to sit with someone during chemo, please go. Your presence can help take their mind off what's happening and remind them they're not alone. That's what community looks like in action.
When my hair fell out, I looked in the mirror and thought I resembled Uncle Fester from The Addams Family. But here's one sweet thing about children: they don't fixate on appearances. My sons and their friends hardly noticed I was bald. To them, I was just Mom.
My final chemo treatment came at the end of March. That same month, my father went home to be with the Lord.
His illness had been the number one reason I never would have considered leaving the Midwest. But that May, Dave finished his master's degree and was offered a job in Florida at Patrick Air Force Base (now Patrick Space Force Base). We needed to move by July.
I'll never forget house hunting in the Florida heat. After one sweltering afternoon, I tossed my wig into the back seat of the car, and I never wore it again.
It's a strange feeling to arrive in a new city where you don't know a soul, sporting a buzz cut. But little by little, my hair grew back, and we settled into our new home. God was making something new.
Looking back, I believe with all my heart that God led us to Florida. A few years later, I found myself working as a project manager at Christian Care Ministry, serving a community of believers who carry one another's burdens through life's hardest moments, just as my family carried me.
I've seen firsthand how much it means to have people praying for you and walking alongside you. That's not just something I believe in. It's something I've lived.
Today, Dave and I have been married for 29 years. He's been my rock through every high and low.
My little seven-year-old, Christian, is now 25. And my nine-year-old, Brock, is now 27 and engaged to be married. Both of my sons have wonderful young women in their lives, and I can't wait to see the bright future in store for them..
I am deeply grateful to the Lord for the gift of good health and a full, joyful life. If you're facing your own fire right now, please hear this: He is with you. And if something is nudging you to schedule that exam, don't wait.
I hope my story encourages you today.