Visit to San Diego by Linda Brumley

I’m at my daughter’s house in San Diego today on a trip that was planned months ago, and that I for sure would not have taken if I’d had a crystal ball. A week ago today, I learned from a surgeon at UW medical center that tissue he’s removed and sent in for biopsy revealed that I have breast cancer--again. I’m tired and I’m sore and maybe a little out of whack emotionally, but in no way in despair or panic mode.

People are kind and concerned and solicitous of my well being and I’m grateful. They tell me that I am in their prayers and this is more than reassuring, it’s a joy. It’s amazing to me thinking of my name being mentioned to God multiple times a day from so many sources--amazing!

Many urge me toward optimism, but I am neither optimistic nor pessimistic. I feel neutral--very still inside, very trusting that God is on the case and he’s got tomorrow figured out. I only know about today.

It’s sunny and beautiful here. I have a comfortable bed, assurance of three good meals that I don’t even have to cook, people to delight in and laugh with, family and friends who are on the same page with me spiritually.

I dread another surgery and I think that’s normal. I hate the thought of more chemo, but I can ride that wave (however grumpily--you can pray about that!), but I think I’ve finally learned to live one day at a time through a crisis. I love that Jesus explained to us that each day has enough trouble of its own! (Matthew 6:34) He so fully understands our humanity and the limitations of how much we can cope with effectively. He gets it that we are made of dust and I’m extremely relieved.

So today, I’m with my daughter and her great husband and their adorable, fascinating, talented, healthy kids. And right this minute, I’m home alone with their very cute, and equally stupid puff-ball of a dog, Ace (no offense intended, but I could tell you stories). He is sitting at my feet gazing up at me with these enormous brown eyes that look for all the world as if he’s sympathetically aware of my diagnosis. And until his playmates get home from school, he seems to have single-handedly embraced the task of filling my world with compassion. It makes me giggle. It’s a very good day.