Writing from Walsh Mountain

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but now it’s my turn to battle for courage…

On April 19th, I was diagnosed with synovial sarcoma, one of the rarest and most insidious types of cancer. I say that especially because it often attacks children and young adults. It hides out in their bodies for months and even years, and when these young people finally feel it’s effect, its usually attributed to “growing pains.” By the time it is diagnosed these young people have a major battle, no, a full out war, on their hands.

I tell more about my own battle on a blog I started to keep my loved ones informed — family, friends, co-workers, students… And each of you is welcome to come alongside my journey and pray for me. It’s really important to me that more people find out about synovial sarcoma. Here’s how I found out I had cancer and the amazing way God nudged me to make sure that cancer became apparent: https://posthope.org/amywrites/journal/296825/a-winding-road-to-a-mysterious-diagnosis

I’m in the middle of a lengthy hospital stay right now. During the night I listen to Kristen Getty read the Bible on Audible. Between her lovely Irish voice and the constant sound of the Doplar device keeping track of the artery in the thigh muscle that has been implanted into my ankle, I’m lulled to sleep like a baby throughout the night. Prayer and God’s tender mercy has much to do with my ability to sleep as well, I’m positive. But anyway, I woke up right when Kristen was reading Acts 21, and that chapter spoke to me so deeply.

When we had finally said farewell to them we set sail, running a straight course to Cos, and the next day we went to Rhodes and from there to Patara. Here we found a ship bound for Phoenicia, and we went aboard her and set sail. After sighting Cyprus and leaving it on our left we sailed to Syria and put in at Tyre, since that was where the ship was to discharge her cargo. We sought out the disciples there and stayed with them for a week. They felt led by the Spirit again and again to warn Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. But when our time was up we left there and continued our journey. They all came out to see us off, bringing their wives and children with them, accompanying us till we were outside the city. Then kneeling down on the beach we prayed and said good-bye to each other. Then we went aboard the ship while the disciples went back home. We sailed away from Tyre and arrived at Ptolemais. We greeted the brothers there and stayed with them for just one day. On the following day we left and proceeded to Caesarea and there we went to stay at the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the seven deacons. He had four unmarried daughters, all of whom spoke by the Spirit of God. During our stay there of several days a prophet by the name of Agabus came down from Judea. When he came to see us he took Paul’s girdle and used it to tie his own hands and feet together, saying, “The Holy Spirit says this: the man to whom this girdle belongs will be bound like this by the Jews in Jerusalem and handed over to the Gentiles!”

We all warn Paul, but he is immovable

^12-13 When we heard him say this, we and the people there begged Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered us, “What do you mean by unnerving me with all your tears? I am perfectly prepared not only to be bound but to die in Jerusalem for the sake of the name of the Lord Jesus.”

¹⁴ Since he could not be dissuaded all we could do was to say, “May the Lord’s will be done,” and hold our tongues.

I don’t think I ever recognized the sorrow, the downright heartbreak and pain, that these people who so loved Paul felt as they said goodbye. Think of Agabus, a prophet, who through the Holy Spirit could foresee all of the terrible things Paul was heading into. Think of him taking Paul’s girdle and using it to bind himself — tying his own hands and feet together. I imagine as a prophet, he may have even seen visions of the Jews laying their hands on Paul, seizing him, dragging him out of the temple, and trying to kill him. Maybe he even had a glimpse of all of the horrific things that were to come.

These people who adored Paul, who revered Paul as the one who had lead the to Jesus, were crying and begging him not to continue. His reaction? “What do you mean by unnerving me with all your tears?” HE was perfectly prepared to not only be bound but to DIE. But the people who loved him weren’t.

I’m in no way comparing cancer to what Paul went through as he labored to introduce the Way, the gospel of Christ to both Jews and Gentiles. He said himself, “I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. ²⁴ Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. ²⁵ Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, ²⁶ I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers. ²⁷ I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. ²⁸ Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.”

However, when one’s friends and family hear that dreaded diagnosis, I think there is a sense where their imaginations have a glimpse of some possible horrific things to come. And like those poor folks in Paul’s life, they are both literally crying and crying on the inside because they don’t want to unnerve us.

I think it’s probably harder for my friends and family right now than it is for me, and I just want to acknowledge that. Similar to Paul, I have an attitude through God’s grace and strength of “being perfectly prepared” for wherever synovial sarcoma takes me.

How much harder it must be for my mom and dad than for me — to see me on this unexpected journey. I’m thinking that’s why they drove two hours to surprise me with a short visit, even though their day to visit is next Tuesday.

Perhaps that’s why my husband got a little teary with gratitude when the imaging staff at Viewmont Medical labs gave up their lunch so I could get an emergency scan in time for my first surgery. (Pat has been so amazing, by the way. The perfect mixture of tender and firm. He’s been a rock in this storm, and a balm in each aftermath. And he has so many times lifted my spirits with his humor.)

My children too… My eldest Bree drove the four and a half hour drive to spend a couple days with me before my surgery on May 7, and took a pay drop to go to a four day week so that she can be available as the future unfolds. My son was like a mother hen when I was home for the week with the open wound attached the the wound vac. He thought of all the possible roadblocks and dangers, such as our cats potentially biting one of the tubes from the med vac. He gave me great advice when I would have done possibly risky things as a terrible walker user — and got me a scooter because he knew it was safer. Lizzy had her own health issues going on — an infection, a pinched nerve that was trapped in her elbow after her shoulder and elbow had been dislocated from carrying heavy bins at her new job — yet she dyed my hair and spent time braiding it afterward, and gave me a back massage. This girl who usually likes to do her own thing has included me during outings via FaceTime. These kids are trying to give me up to God, trying to have faith that everything will be alright. But they are hurting. Possibly much more than I’m hurting.

Then there was telling my students. I’m not exaggerating when I say that letting my classes know I was going to have to take a leave of absence for the rest of the year because I have cancer, was harder than finding out I have sarcoma. One of the hardest days I’ve ever had. To see the fear in their eyes — even though I told them in such a positive way. To see the tears, to know that all the hugs they were asking for were much needed.

So this post is for my loved ones, and I am blessed to have so many. Thanks for showing courage as you support me — and so many others in your lives who deal with hard things. Like the people who loved Paul were asked to do, turn your fears into prayers. Hand me to the Almighty to provide for me in supernatural ways every time you worry about my future. And while you are at it, give yourselves to the Almighty. There is a peace like no other that comes from asking Christ to be your Lord and Savior. Jesus is saying to me and to you, “Come to me if you feel weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11) I can testify that it’s true. But I’ll get to that in another blog post.