Be the Blessing

by Paula Mowery

  After the closing prayer, almost every person present came by to offer encouragement which touched me beyond belief. Maybe I had become closer to this new church body than I thought. As a ministry couple, Griffey and I usually did the comforting and praying for others. It was hard to accept their care when we were normally the caregivers. I often knew intimate details of others’ lives but didn’t reciprocate for fear of being hurt. If I had a problem, I hid it and only shared with my family or Emily. This was a big obstacle that required big prayers. I had never felt more dependent on my brothers and sisters in Christ than I did right now. I had to learn to accept the blessing of others – that was part of this Christian walk.

  8

  I walked through the hospital entrance flanked by Griffey and Emily. Then after several reassuring hugs, I walked back with a nurse. In a curtained area, I donned a hospital gown and climbed into the bed. After preliminaries were complete, Griffey and Emily were allowed to join me for the wait. Time went in slow motion. I just wanted to get this over with. Finally, a nurse peeked through the curtain. “We’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  Griffey grabbed my hand and Emily clutched the other and he said a prayer. When we opened our eyes, two medical personnel stood watching and waiting. They snapped into action, and the bed began to roll away from Griffey and Emily. Through the pounding of my heart in my ears, I could make out one of the medical persons telling them where they could wait.

  I stared straight up watching the ceiling tiles and lights pass above me. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself, but the jittery feeling inside wouldn’t go away.

  Arriving in the operating room things sped up, and the anesthesia took quick effect.

  I awoke in another room. In my peripheral vision, I could see several persons dressed in scrubs flitting about. I began to shiver, my teeth chattering. A pleasant smiling face appeared at my side. She spread another blanket over me. I woke again when the bed started rolling. It seemed the hallway had become bumpy for this ride because I felt every motion. I was taken to a room where Griffey and Emily waited.

  Griffey planted a kiss on my forehead and smoothed back my hair. “From all indications, everything went well.” He spoke in a low voice.

  I managed to nod, so heavy and weak I couldn’t seem to speak. I found it hard to keep my eyes open but could hear Griffey and Emily talking in the background somewhere.

  The next time I awoke, some of the grogginess had subsided. Things were clearer. Griffey slumped in a chair next to me. A nurse entered, checked my blood pressure and IV’s, and he jolted awake, sitting up straighter. After she exited, Griffey rose and stood peering down at me. “Hey, how’re you doing, honey?”

  I started to speak but cleared my throat first. “OK. I guess more of the anesthesia has worn off because I don’t feel as loopy.”

  Griffey smiled down at me. “They actually say you’ll go home tomorrow. Seems too soon, if you ask me.” He stroked his chin. “I’m not much of a nurse.”

  “It’ll feel better in my own bed and chair, I’m sure.”

  “I called Elianna to let her know the surgery went well. She’s coming Friday.”

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t need to come.”

  “You try to tell your daughter that. She’s stubborn.”

  “Wonder where she gets that?”

  Griffey grinned and shrugged.

  ****

  I was glad the ride from the hospital to our home wasn’t far. I took deep breaths the whole way fighting the nausea. I parked myself in the recliner and sat still, eyes closed. Finally, the queasy feeling in my stomach subsided as well as the lump in my throat. Thank goodness. I feared vomiting. For that matter, I was afraid of coughing and sneezing as well. I worried my whole chest would just explode if I had to make any sudden movements.

  Emily stopped by bearing chicken and dumplings. “I figured it was kinda like chicken soup, which is supposed to cure anything.” She winked.

  “Thank you.”

  Emily’s bottom lip quivered, and a tear escaped down her cheek. She quickly swiped it away. I reached out my hand, and she took it. “I wish I could do more.” She knelt beside my chair. “You have to tell me if there’s anything.”

  I nodded, blinking back tears, too. I wanted to tell her that her presence was enough, but I couldn’t speak.

  Emily patted my hand. “You inspire me.”

  My head jerked back. “I inspire you? I doubt that.”

  She leaned nearer and gazed into my eyes. “Oh, but you do. Addy, you have this gentle quiet strength. Not to mention, what a good friend you are with your caring ways that you can detect the exact time I need them.”

  I’d always felt I had gotten the better end of the deal having Emily as a friend. I bit my quivering lip and shook my head. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you for telling me that.”

  I was still curled up in the recliner on Friday. Elianna had made it in and dug out a few chick movies we had on DVD. She lounged on the couch munching some popcorn. The tissues were nearby, preparing us for the tear-jerker scenes.

  Today my soreness quotient was more intense, and I welcomed any distraction.

  After the credits for the first in our movie marathon began, Elianna sat up and scooted to the edge of the couch. “Mom, are you doing OK?”

  I nodded. “Uh hmm.”

  “Really? The wrinkles in your forehead say differently.”

  I smiled. “I am more sore today, but this is the best distraction.”

  “I hope so. I want to be able to help.”

  “You are. Believe me.” I attempted to muster a smile.

  Elianna bowed her head and focused on her own fidgeting hands.

  “Honey, what?”

  She raised her head and her gaze met mine. “Did I tell you enough what a great mother you are and have always been?”

  “Elianna…”

  “No, Mom, I mean it. You supported me in my calling into ministry even though you’d lived it and didn’t recommend it.”

  I clicked my tongue. “You can’t argue with God.”

  “I’ll never forget how special I felt when you told me you had experienced a vision about me.”

  I chuckled. “Really? I figured you thought I’d gone completely insane.”

  She shook her head. “No, God really worked through you during that time. He made you bolder.”

  “Thank goodness. Timid me needed that lesson.”

  “Want some more popcorn before the next movie?” Elianna stood and reached for my bowl.

  “You know, God’s been adding some new facets to me lately.” I studied her face for a reaction.

  Her eyes widened. “More visions?”

  “No, it’s more of a nudging whisper encouraging me to be a blessing to others.”

  “So, have you been a blessing?”

  “I hope so.”

  She kissed my forehead. “You are.”

  When the doorbell rang, Elianna ran to answer it.

  Beatrice McElroy walked in and took a seat at my side. She’d been the head of the nursery at our other church. At one point, I had dubbed her my thorn in the flesh, but everything had turned out OK in the end.

  She perched on the edge of the couch. “Addy, I heard about your surgery and just had to come by and check on you. You’re not my pastor’s wife anymore, but I still consider you a friend.” She paused as if regaining control. “I miss you something awful in the nursery.”

  I reached for her hand. “Thank you, Beatrice. I miss being in the nursery with you too.”

  She dug into her bag and pulled out something. It looked crocheted.

  She unfurled it. “Addy, this is a prayer shawl. As I crocheted it, I prayed for you. When you want to feel like arms are around you, drape it about your shoulders.” She handed it to me. The shawl felt soft between my fingers. It was oblong with fringe at each end. My eyes traced from one end to the other taking in the soothing shades of blue.

  A lump formed in my
throat at the thought of this kind gesture toward me. I pressed my lips firmly together for a moment, fighting with my emotions. “Beatrice, thank you so much for doing this for me. I’ve felt the prayers.” I fingered the soft shawl again. “This is beautiful.”

  When she stood, I inwardly winced, hoping she wouldn’t lay one of her normal tight hugs on me. Instead, she kissed my forehead. “You get better, honey.” Then, she let herself out.

  I hugged the shawl under my chin and glanced heavenward. “I feel so loved.”

  9

  Griffey stood by me through the pain and subsequent doctor visits. Though he disagreed, he had been a good nurse. I knew it was time to get back to “normal,” so I shooed him out of the house knowing he’d neglected his church office long enough working from home. I reached for a notecard and penned a thank you to Beatrice for the shawl. Then, I welcomed the time alone to wrap my head around what I had experienced. Time alone with God. I shuffled to my desk in our home office and read the Scripture passages assigned for the day. If the plan were followed, I’d read through the Bible in one year, but I’d lost some time in my reading.

  Only a week had passed since I had been cleared to take a shower, and today I wanted to take my time and enjoy it. I strolled to our bedroom, picking up a towel from the linen closet on the way. I closed my eyes, and let the hot water massage my back. The little pleasures we take for granted aren’t noticed until they’re gone. I leaned back my head, wetting my hair. My left arm felt stiff as I raised it and worked the shampoo into lather. As the water cascaded down rinsing the bubbles from my hair, I wished I could wash away my fears as well. What was next? Had I only just begun this fight? Thoughts of chemotherapy and radiation went through my mind. Hair loss. Sickness. Maybe more cancer.

  Reluctantly, I emerged from the shower, fingers pruned. I toweled off and slipped back into my robe to stave off a chill. I rummaged through the closet, dumped jeans and a t-shirt on the bed, and dropped my robe. My reflection in the full-length mirror stopped me. The pleasant feeling of the shower drained from me as if someone had pulled a plug. My body was deformed. I didn’t feel like much of a woman. Definitely not an attractive one.

  I would never be the same. Tears I’d held at bay for weeks now surfaced, and I collapsed into a weeping mess on the floor.

  Nothing but dry sobs remained when two warm hands gripped my shoulders. Griffey knelt beside me. I instinctively tried to cover myself, bowing my head in shame. He moved in front of me, tilted my chin up with his fingertips, and gazed into my eyes.

  “You are more beautiful to me now than ever.”

  New tears streamed down my cheeks. I shook my head.

  He cupped my face with his hands, leaned closer, and nodded. “Yes.” He pulled me into an embrace and held me as more sobs shook my body. “What are you feeling? Why are you crying?”

  “That’s the first time I’ve looked at myself.” I rubbed my hands down my face and pulled on my robe. “It’s really awful looking. I don’t feel very beautiful or see how you can say that to me.”

  “A part of your body isn’t what makes you beautiful to me.” Griffey took my hand in his. “Addy, your caring ways are beautiful and your loyalty and willingness. I could go on. When I heard cancer, I thought I might lose all that. But, they couldn’t take that from you just by removing a part of your body.”

  I cupped his cheek with my other hand. “You always know what to say.” I sighed. “I’m trying not to become scared of what happens next, but…”

  “One day at a time—that’s all we can do.” He kissed my forehead and pulled me close again. I relaxed into the warmth of his embrace, thankful. “Hey, this came in the mail for you.” He pulled a small notecard from his shirt pocket.

  I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the card.

  Dear Addy,

  I know you probably have a lot of questions. If you need to talk to someone who understands, I’m here.

  Love in Christ,

  Brenda

  I hugged the card to my chest. What a kind gesture from a woman at church who had walked this road before me.

  I glanced heavenward. “You are an on-time God.”

  ****

  I finally healed enough to enter the next phase of this battle—treatment options. After weighing all the percentages of recurrence, research from the internet, and doctor opinion, I chose radiation.

  When I arrived for my first treatment, there was only one other woman in the waiting room. After signing in, I took a seat.

  The other woman leaned forward, tilting her head as her eyes scanned me head to toe and back again. “Aren’t you the pastor’s wife at Lakeside Baptist?” The woman’s voice sounded gruff.

  “Yes, I’m Addy. Do you attend Lakeside?”

  She sneered. “No, I don’t, but my mother does. Carolyn Moore.”

  Obviously, she didn’t share her mother’s faith.

  I ignored the attitude. “Miss Carolyn? She’s so sweet and such a strong Christian woman.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know.”

  I extended my hand. “And your name is?”

  “Julie.” She mumbled and barely touched my hand, snatching it back as if I might be germ-ridden.

  “Good to meet you.” I forced a smile.

  “So, are you waiting for somebody?” She glanced around the room as if trying to notice someone she had missed.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m starting radiation today.”

  Julie’s eyes widened. “Breast cancer?” Her tone softened.

  “Yes. You?”

  She nodded. “Second time.”

  “Oh, yes. I think I remember your mother mentioning you during prayer meeting.”

  The coldness returned to her face. “Like that’s gotten me anywhere. God just continues to punish me for I don’t know what.” She spat the bitter words out.

  “Help this woman.”

  How could I help this woman whose heart must be granite? I had enough to deal with on my own, fighting against faithlessness.

  “Be the blessing.”

  “Julie, God isn’t punishing you. He doesn’t work that way.”

  “Oh, really? So, why am I still here after two years of prayers?” She fixed her gaze on me.

  I was at a loss. I’d never heard such deep hurt spewed through anger. How could I ever help someone who so apparently blamed and despised God?

  “Julie,” a woman called from the reception desk. “We’re ready for you.”

  Julie stood, heading toward the nearby door. At the last moment, she wheeled around and opened her mouth as if to speak. She clamped her lips and merely nodded. I smiled back. She disappeared behind the door.

  Had I failed? I wondered if I’d get another chance to be there for Julie. I prayed for God to give me the opportunity. I also asked Him to soften her rock-hard heart and give me the words to penetrate it.

  Later that evening Griffey and I sat having supper at Justin’s. A couple from the church approached our table asking how I was feeling and telling me they were praying. My faith boosted knowing others bathed me in prayer and cared enough to check on me.

  Wednesday evening after prayer time and Bible study, I was able to pass along the encouragement I was receiving from those who had walked the breast cancer road before me. Penny, a woman about my age, announced she had just been diagnosed. I made my way through the exiting crowd.

  “Penny, I know I’m still in the midst of this breast cancer ordeal, but I want you to know I’m here. You can call anytime about anything. It’s been good to have others who truly understand available to share with.”

  Penny’s lower lip quivered, and she engulfed me in a hug. “Thank you.” She swiped a finger under each eye.

  ****

  At my next radiation appointment, there was Julie again. I sighed with relief when I spotted her, thankful that I would have another opportunity to talk with her. I also raised a quick, silent prayer for God’s assistance.

  “Julie, hey,
how are you?” I slid into the chair beside her.

  She shrugged. “OK, I guess.”

  I nodded. “I feel a little run down, but I suppose that’s to be expected. Could be worse.”

  We sat in silence a moment. I glanced around the waiting room, noticing how the décor was done in soft soothing shades of blue and pink. The harsh square lines of the side tables and metal armed chairs contrasted with the atmosphere. I was sure the color choices were meant to bring a warmth and comfort to patients, but the place still felt cold.

  “I’m actually glad I’m having the opportunity to talk to you again.” I said when she didn’t respond. “You’ve been on my mind, and I’ve prayed for you.”

  She snorted. “Save your breath. Pray for somebody else.” She crossed her arms.

  “No. I’m concerned, and I want to pray for you.”

  “Look, it’s like I said the last time—God must have some bone to pick with me. My mother’s been praying for me since this cancer thing started and yet here I am.”

  “Have you prayed?” I searched her face.

  For a split second, Julie’s eyes widened. I thought I might be able to get through, but she quickly shook off whatever had caused the change. She narrowed her eyes. “Why? If He hasn’t heard a woman like my mother, He sure won’t hear me. Besides, I’m not sure I even believe He’s there.”

  I laid my hand on her arm and gazed directly into her eyes. “Oh, He’s there. Trust me.”

  She diverted her eyes to her lap.

  I gently squeezed her arm. “Take it from someone who knows from experience. God uses the situations of our lives to get our attention.” I leaned in closer trying to regain eye contact. “Whether you realize it or not, God loves you.” I noticed a slight quiver in her bottom lip.

  “Julie,” the nurse called.

  As she rose, I stopped her with a hand on her arm and reached into my purse. I handed her a card. “Call me if you like.”