I Will Praise You In The Storm
“Dad, guess what my memory verse is this week?” Nathan asked, sitting at breakfast the morning of my PET Scan to determine the extent of the cancer we’d discovered just 2 days earlier.
After rattling off a few verses, I finally surrendered. I don’t know, I responded.
“Come on dad, you know. It’s from the biggest book in the Bible.”
That makes it easier, at least it’s from the Psalms. I guessed a few verses
Psalm 40 “I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. 2 He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. 3 He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the LORD and put their trust in him.
“Nope, that’s not it.”
Psalm 1:3 “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.”
Nope, that’s not it. Here’s another clue. It’s from a song by Casting Crowns.
Ahh…I know, As far as the east is from the west
Psalm 103:12 He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west.
Nope, that’s not it either.
I know what it is!
Psalm 121:1!
That’s it, he said as I asked him to read it out loud.
Psalm 121: “I lift my eyes up to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth”
Tears welled up in my eyes and I fought back the tears. My son knows one of my favorite songs, and the Lord knew I needed this song this encouragement today.
Lord, I’m choosing to lift my eyes up to the hills today. I’m choosing to raise my hands to you. I’m choosing to praise you in this storm.
This storm is a storm I’ve never endured before, but a storm that I’ve watched those very close to me endure. Nearly a year ago my wife underwent major surgery to remove cancer. The cancer that arrived without a notice 6 years prior. The same cancer that the oncologist said was the “most treatable form of cancer on the planet”. The same cancer that was pronounced gone from her body only a few months later after chemo and radiation.
But it wasn’t gone. It came back with a fury the 2nd time. The doctor shared that he wasn’t concerned as my wife entered the biopsy. About an hour later he looked deeply troubled. I knew something wasn’t right.
“It looks like it was cancer, and it has grown very fast since we discovered it. I think I cut it all out, but we’ll know for certain after the biopsy. It’s a good thing you came in so quickly this time.”
It’s a good thing you came in so early this time. These words rang in my head as I remembered my sister undergoing radiation therapy 40+ years earlier to treat cancer of her lymph nodes. She only had a 20% chance of surviving but by God’s grace she is alive and cancer free today. I remember the doctors saying “it’s a good thing you came in early, she might not be here today if you hadn’t.”
At her follow up appointment a few days later the doctor pronounced he had successfully removed all the cancer and there was none at the margins. We both sighed a big sigh of relief, knowing we’d just dodged another bullet. As a precaution, we scheduled our meeting with the oncologist, believing we were done and this would be a brief meeting to pronounce everything clear.
After all, this was the most treatable form of cancer on the planet.
I have a saying that has served me well over the years. A saying that I teach almost everyone I meet. A saying that I learned as the quality manager for Xbox 360 before we lost $1.5 billion in warranty costs from the largest reliability issue in history.
Quality is the gap between expectation and experience. If your experience exceeds your expectation, you are delighted. If your experience is less than your expectation, you are frustrated.
I’ve modified this slightly as a description for human emotion.
Emotion=Expectation minus Experience
We entered the oncologists office with an expectation that no more treatment would be necessary. We had the expectation that our lives would continue as normal and this second round of cancer was just another blip.
Our expectation didn’t match our experience of the doctors recommendation and our emotions immediately changed. Peace was replaced with fear.
It’s very rare, but somehow the squamous returned. This wasn’t a recurrence of the same cancer, this was a new instance of the same form of cancer. This time it came back and was growing fast. The good news is we can treat it. It’s a good thing you came in early because if you had waited it might have spread to her lymph nodes and it wouldn’t have been treatable.”
Our jaws hit the floor. We’d narrowly escaped another bullet.
The oncologist pulled out the recommended treatment. He shared the flow chart, the statistics, and his finger traced to the part that said surgery. Major surgery, the type of surgery that would require me to take a month off of work to care for Debbie in her recovery.
Emotion=Expectation minus Experience
A year later Debbie was pronounced cancer free again. The surgery and treatment worked, again.
A few days after she was pronounced cancer free I was rubbing my neck. Something felt suspicious. A small lump, a little larger than a peanut just over my right corroded vein was there.
I was immediately gripped with fear. I tried to schedule a doctors appointment the same day. Nothing available. I put it off for a few days but ultimately those words I’d heard so many times before rang in my ears.
“It’s a good thing you came in early.”
My wife is by my side because we went in early. My sister is 40+ years cancer free because my mom brought her in early.
I called and saw the doctor that afternoon.
“I’m not concerned. Give me a call in a week if it doesn’t change size.”
I decided to schedule an appointment in a week instead and get my annual checkup.
“It hasn’t changed size, but I’m still not concerned. I’m going to schedule a CT scan to make sure. It’s more for you than me.”.
A little more than 24 hours later, laying on the table as the CT machine scanned my neck I had those same thoughts.
“Don’t mess around Damon. It’s good that you came in early.”
We’ll get the results to your doctor and he will contact you.
The waiting is the hardest part.
I remember when my wife, Debbie asked me to come upstairs. It was September 8, 2013. Just 2 days after one of the best days of my life, the day when I rode my bike 100 miles for the first time ever, and just a few short months after I’d competed in my first triathlon. Life was really good. Monica was back home, her heart completely changed from when she’d decided to move in with her mom 4 months earlier.
Life was better than it had ever been……
“Honey, I have cancer”.
Her words pierced my soul and we laid on our bed holding each other, sobbing uncontrollably. Thoughts raced through my head. How would I raise our children alone? How would our children respond? How could we protect them from the emotional anguish associated with cancer?
In an instant our souls were knitted together and I felt like she and I were one. We cried out to God begging him to save her.
The waiting is the hardest part. For 2 weeks we anguished, cried, prayed, and held each other, waiting for the appointment with the oncologist. Those 2 weeks felt like 10 years.
The news was better than anything we’d hoped for. Her cancer was only stage 1 and it was the most treatable form of cancer on the planet. A little radiation, a little chemo and she’d be good as new.
And just like that, a few months later she was pronounced cancer free.
As I write this I’m having a Déjà vu. The waiting is the hardest part.
The doctor contacted me a week after the CT scan. “I don’t see anything but I’m going to refer you to a specialist”.
Fortunately, this wait was only a few hours. She was available. I scheduled the appointment. She came in and immediately I felt peace.
“Damon, it doesn’t look like cancer but because of your history I want to make sure. I’m going to schedule a needle Biopsy under ultrasound to make certain there are no false negative readings.”
The soonest appointment was the following Tuesday.
7 more days of waiting.
Lying on the table the doctor numbed my neck and pushed a needle in to collect a few samples. After it was over he commented “man, you have tough skin. I really had to push the needle hard to get a sample!”.
You should get the results within 2-5 business days.
More waiting.
I held my phone constantly, waiting for the call. And then it came. I was in a meeting at work, I answered and walked into a quiet conference room. My heart started beating so hard that I felt it would bounce out of my chest.
“Damon, are you somewhere where you can be alone.”
My heart started beating faster, I knew what she was going to say. Here we go again…
“Damon, you’ve got cancer.”
The waiting is the hardest part…as I type this I’m waiting for my PET scan to determine the extent of my cancer.
Lord Jesus, I know you hold my life in the palm of your hands. Lord, I’ve watched you work miracle after miracle after miracle in my life. Lord, thank you for my son’s memory verse today. Today I choose to lift my eyes up to the hills. I know where my help comes from, it comes from you, Lord. The maker of heaven and earth. Lord, you have brought me and my family through many storms. This is another.
And I’ll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
That you are who you are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm