Weeping may endure for a night...

"Shallena, I had a dream. In my dream, we had lived in Malawi for ten months, and we were packing up to go home. I remember that I felt badly about not being able to work here, but not too bad because for some reason I knew we had to return and there was no other choice."

Jamie's dream was still whirling around in my mind when I saw Sharlene two days later and she told me that she had a dream about us. She said, "Shallena, I had a dream. In my dream Jamie and I were walking together and he was crying big, man tears. He said, 'I've given so much to this hospital and now I've lost Shallena.' But when we walked to your house, there you were making supper for your children." She sounded bewildered. I told her Jamie's dream. She gasped and asked, "Which night was that?" It was the same night.

Fast-forward about a month. We are at home in Loma Linda on our long-anticipated, joyful first annual leave. "It is so GOOD to be home," I exclaimed each day! Sunshine, perfect temperatures, no humidity--this is what Southern California is all about! Then Jamie walked in on me after I finished my shower.

Concern shadowed his face. "What's that?" he asked, looking at my breast.
"Oh, that's blood. It's been doing that a while."
He palpated my breast. Very clinical. His frown deepened. "You should see someone about that."

The next day we flew to Michigan and told Jamie's mom. She scheduled me a doctor's appointment for a week and half later, when we planned to return to Michigan. The following day we drove to Louisville for CME, and then to Gatlinburg to see my cousin and her family.

"I am telling you this because we have a family history," I began. Then I told her what was happening and concluded with, "I don't think this is cancer, because this hurts and cancer isn't supposed to hurt. It's probably a strange parasite I'm hosting."

My children and I drove to Michigan and Jamie flew to Utah for CME. The next day I saw the family physician. She examined, palpated, and wiped some slides with the fluid. "I think it's nothing, but I'm sending you for a mammogram." That was Wednesday. The mammogram was Thursday.

Later that Thursday afternoon, the radiologist talked to Jamie while he was in Utah. "It's diffuse and aggressive. I think a random biopsy would be diagnostic. It's cancer until proven otherwise." That night Jamie cried big, man tears. The next day, Friday, he changed his ticket and flew home. We cried incessantly that weekend. We couldn't sleep. I didn't know how long I would have with my beautiful, innocent, trusting children. I thought of their lives without Mommy, and my heart ached.  Our deep sadness made us very gentle and compassionate to others.

I squeezed Jamie's hand through the painful biopsy on Monday. We cried a lot. We saw the family doctor again on Thursday. Jamie held my hand as the physician said, "I'm sorry, there is bad news. You have cancer." She cried and prayed with us, and touched my heart with her sympathy. The diagnosis: "Breast Cancer, DCIS, Grade 3, 7cm, EP positive (20%), likely invasive." The date was November 20, 2013. The month until surgery hurt.

Surgery was scheduled for December 16. While waking from a drug-induced sleep, I heard someone say to me happily, "The lymph node was negative!" Good news!

The pathology report arrived at our temporary residence a few days later. "DCIS, grade 3, at least 4.5 cm, necrosis, noninvasive, 2mm clear margins, lymph node negative for cancer cells."

What can I say, except to quote the words of David, in Psalm 21?

             "The king shall have joy in Your strength, O Lord;
              And in Your salvation how greatly shall he rejoice!

2 You have given him his heart’s desire,
And have not withheld the request of his lips...

4 He asked life from You, and You gave it to him—
Length of days forever and ever.

5 His glory is great in Your salvation;...

6 For You have made him most blessed forever;
You have made him exceedingly glad with Your presence.

7 For the king trusts in the Lord,

And through the mercy of the Most High he shall not be moved.

13               Be exalted, O Lord, in Your own strength!
              We will sing and praise Your power.

I would also like to say that our church has only given us the love of God in this situation and has been thoroughly supportive, compassionate, encouraging, gracious, and kind. We are completely grateful!

We will be in the States until spring, or until my healing is complete, at which point we will be cleared to return to our mission post. Thank you for being our friends and for lifting us up in prayer. Please continue to pray for us, because the fear and emotional pain lingers along with the physical pain. But we know it will end! As a dear friend of the family said, "God knows your name. He hears it often." What an honor and an encouragement!

And, my friends, please remember "... BUT JOY COMES IN THE MORNING!"