I have a confession to share about an ailment that I’ve suffered from for quite a long time. It's called control, and it surfaces a lot. You see, I don't like surprises.
Actually, I vacillate between wanting surprises and not wanting them, like wanting a really special gift, but wanting to know what that special gift is before I receive it. Because of this, I’ve ruined a lot of good plans. For example, I ruined my engagement. Through some investigation and subterfuge, I found out about the ring. I found out when and where he was planning to propose – all of it.
The seeking and then destroying surprises continue to this day. I ruin most Christmas and birthday presents. And I’m aided by the use of technology. For instance, I use an app on my phone to see where my husband is doing his Christmas shopping, to know if I'm getting something from a specific store, and then my banking app to confirm a purchase was made at said store.
Now, the intent behind all of this sleuthing is not to spoil the surprise. I just like to be emotionally prepared for what is coming next. I want to know the plan ahead of time and understand all the next steps. And in the past, I really did feel like all my planning, all my effort, being five steps ahead, was useful to me.
But all this preparation is really a defense mechanism; it is a need for control, a lack of trust, and then anxiety. This ailment of control actually has a prescription. In his book, “Anxious for Nothing, Finding Calm in a Chaotic World,” Max Lucado writes, “The presence of anxiety is unavoidable, but the prison of anxiety is optional.” The prescription he notes for anxiety is God. “The more grateful the heart, the less anxious the soul.”
It is gratitude that is the medicine I need for my tendency to control and to stress. While that seems like a simple solution, it was not easily learned. What did it take for me to learn how to turn my control and anxiety into gratitude?
In October of 2023, in my effort to avoid surprises, I was stalking my MyChart app following a recent biopsy, knowing I could see the results even before my doctor. I learned that my lump was malignant – I had breast cancer.
After the doctor's visits, tests, and surgery, the official diagnosis was stage two invasive carcinoma. The cancer had also spread to my lymph nodes. I had surgery in November, chemotherapy from January through March, and then radiation treatments. And in all that time, I suffered. But the strange thing about my suffering is that it wasn't a result of the cancer. I felt fine before receiving my diagnosis. The suffering came from all of the treatments that were a result of my diagnosis.
Chemotherapy is really hard, with side effects that can literally bring you to your knees. There were times when I slept a lot, and then I felt like I didn't sleep at all. I planned times to cry alone, so I didn't bother my family with my stress. And then there were moments that I just cried spontaneously during movies or in the doctor's office.
Yet, in the midst of the struggle, I did find moments of happiness. It came when I snuggled my kids. And I enjoyed a lot of milkshakes. At the time, chemotherapy took away my sense of taste, and I really couldn't taste anything, but I could taste the sweetness of a milkshake.
I also received lots of creature comfort gifts, things that made me feel warm and loved. I talked to my husband daily about the things that made me happy, that made us happy, and I talked to God a lot.
Now some of my conversations with God were really, really hard. I didn't like what was going on and I knew God could do anything, so I didn't understand why he wasn't intervening in my situation. I was not in control, and I did not understand his plan. I wanted immediate and treatment-free healing. Why wasn’t that happening?
As I said before, treatments for cancer can bring you to your knees, but what a good place from which to fight my battle with cancer! Despite my confusion and hurt, I still trusted the Lord and found ways to be grateful.
I kept two notebooks with me at all times. One was for medical-related things and the other one I called my anti-bucket list. At that time, I was focused on living, so this was a list of things that right in that moment of living through my suffering, I was glad to have.
I wrote down things like companionship – I was grateful to have my family and my dog. I was grateful to have work and my friends at work. I was happy to have something simple, like clothing that was warm and comfy. I loved slipper socks and wore them all through chemotherapy. I was grateful for my hair, the hair I complained about on the daily. I was grateful for laughter because laughter can truly be our best medicine. Sunrises and sunsets – I didn't always sleep well, but the silver lining of that was I got to see many beautiful sunrises, which I loved and for which I was thankful.
I noted other things that helped me live a healthier and more grateful life, like forgiveness, therapy, prayer, and love. I was thankful for my chemotherapy and the treatments that were making me healthy, but I was also thankful for my chemotherapy for a different reason.
My father was diagnosed with cancer when I was young. I was in high school when he was going through chemotherapy. Like a typical teenager, I was more focused on myself at the time and didn't understand what he was going through. But the chemotherapy I went through this time gave me a chance to walk in my father's shoes and get to know him better, even though he had passed many, many years ago. So, I was thankful for that opportunity.
If you struggle to find your list, Paul provides one in Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue, if there is anything praiseworthy, meditate on those things.”
What’s something on my anti-bucket list that is pure and lovely? Kindness! I actually lost all my hair during chemotherapy. At first, it was just little by little and it was laughable for a period of time. But then it started coming out in chunks, and so I eventually shaved it all off and started wearing wigs. For me, wigs brought some normalcy back to my situation and let me hide and forget a little bit. With a wig, my diagnosis was not necessarily in my face when I looked in the mirror.
However, about a month ago, I stopped wearing those wigs. While many people I work with didn’t know about my cancer journey at all, they visually saw that I changed my hair. Many of them complimented my “new haircut.”
I had strangers do the same thing -- on planes, picking up my rental car on vacations, at the grocery store, and at church. People would just stop me and say, “Hey, your hair is really cute.” Frankly, my longer blonde hair, the style that I had worn since high school, never got that kind of attention, so this felt extraordinary, that the thing I felt self-conscious about losing, the thing that hurt me visually all the time was the thing that was drawing positive attention. It feels like angels on earth were here providing love when I needed it. And I'm grateful for that.
Now that I’m mostly on the other side, I know it was God who brought me through. I'm sure I’ll still vacillate between grief and thankfulness and hope. I'd like to say that I've made absolute sense of my diagnosis, but I haven't. You don't make sense of your suffering sometimes. Nor do you need to be grateful that it's happening to you in the moment that it's happening. But just like the day after a tough workout and you feel sore because you really pushed yourself, you know you're sore because your muscle fibers are tearing to build new muscle. You have to be torn in order to grow.
There are times I'm still sore and tender and raw. Many of us have something that makes us feel sore or tender or have raw nerves. Yet what feels like breaking might actually be shaping you into something stronger. As my pastor asked me on Sunday, “God has given you a gift, what are you making of it?” Right now, right here at this moment, what I'm making of it is gratitude.
If you're like me during times of struggle, you might not have the right words and you might not be feeling in the moment that you have gratitude to express, because you feel raw or tired or stressed or anxious. You may not have much more than a whispered hallelujah. But that's enough to praise the Lord.
Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/ThitareeSarmkasat
Tricia Bell is the Chief Legal Officer for Christian Care Ministry/Medi-Share, the not-for-profit organization that operates the Medi-Share healthcare sharing program.