The “C” Word – Is it a decoy?

What were you doing on February 1, 2003, when the Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated into bits over Texas upon its reentry? [packing up little girls’ sleeping bags from a birthday slumber party]

Where were you on September 11, 2001? [elbow-deep in pepperoni pizzas, chaperoning a field trip at Domino’s]

Remember who you were with on January 28, 1986, when the Space Shuttle Challenger broke apart in less than 2 minutes into its flight? [with fellow accountants at Intergraph in a very small, very smoke-filled office]

What about the attempted assassination attempt on President Reagan on March 30, 1981? [the UAH tennis courts with a new boyfriend (it didn’t last)]


As Americans, we share these jarring, collector moments. They bring a seriousness with them that brings us to our knees.

And likewise as individuals, we each have a stack of moments where a sentence or two screechingly interrupts our regularly scheduled season of life.

These top my personal list of interrupting moments:

• From the first man I had committed my life to: “I’m not in love with you anymore and I want out.”
• From my obstetrician reviewing our baby’s ultrasound: “That spot...something is wrong.”
• From the doctor with my biopsy results on Tuesday: “It was cancer.”

Sometimes all it takes is one image, an event, one word, to brand a permanent memory onto our brains. The “C” word contains such power. Cancer.

For now, the word is not straying far from my thoughts. It brings its friends with it: “What if”, “Next time”, “If only”... But I don’t suspect we will remain such close bedfellows much longer, once the new wears off. Time and Light fade such images, even if slowly. I will never forget, but I will remember less intently.

But is cancer a decoy? Satan was robbed of my body, this time, but was it a devious scheme all along to steal my soul? He’ll take what he can get of me. I want him to have nothing.

So I sit tight in the Father’s big hand. He promised safety there. There I find joy and peace...and health. Physical health is comforting, for the moment, but spiritual health is eternal.

The temporal thunderclaps we collectively remember serve a purpose. They funnel our focus down to a moment, but they contrast against the broader backdrop of eternity. And we can't help but take notice of both.

Satan wants the interruptions to arrest our souls for his imprisonment; God wants them to transform our souls into His image.

What do you do with your interruptions?

What will I do with mine?