A few blogs ago, my mom wrote about hope and mentioned the story of when I had to have a hysterectomy after an ovarian cancer. I mentioned a story I wrote about that experience and hope and so I am going to share it today as I promised.
The Cross
I am one of those people who is always looking for signs—for instance, when we recently agonized over whether to move to a different home in a different school district, I would drive by the house and play the sign game. If I see a deer in the yard it means God is saying make an offer. If I don’t then its not meant to be. The problem was that I really did want the house but was conflicted about the change of schools, etc . So depending on what day it was when I would drive by, if there wasn’t a deer but a dog I would say, Oh, did I say deer God? I meant a dog. “ My friend Jan found this rather amusing but told me that I should listen to my heart instead of looking for signs. That God would guide me without outward signs. We finally did make an offer which was accepted…A sign that it was meant to be.
After only a couple of weeks in our new home, with boxes still piled everywhere and lots of work still to be done to get everything just right, we hit a major stumbling block. I woke up very sick one day and when I went to the doctor and had some tests done, I was told that I might have Ovarian Cancer. Mike was out of town at the time, in Key West Florida on a job , my parents were on a cruise and I was home alone in an unfamiliar house with 2 unhappy boys (the school change was harder than we thought it would be) and I was terrified. They wanted to do the surgery right away but I wanted Mike and my mom there so it had to be put off until they could get back to Oklahoma. 4 Days until surgery. I was terrified. I altered between anger that it was happening to me and complete despair at the thought of losing my life. I began to pray for strength to deal with the outcome.
One night, during the “wait” I happened to go and look out the window. There in the sky was the moon and it was surrounded by light in the shape of a cross. Without asking for it, and knowing I needed reassurance, God had given me a sign that He was there with me and that all was well. I felt peaceful and calm and the terror went away. For the first time since the Dr. had said you may have cancer, I was able to say and mean “God, this is in your capable hands. I can handle what I am handed as long as you are with me”.
The next day as I awoke, my eyes focused on the window I had looked out the night before. The woodwork across the window pane formed a cross. I began over the next few days to see Crosses everywhere. These had always been there. I just had never noticed them before. The ceiling fan blades when I looked up at it, the telephone poles on the way to school, even the tile in the bathroom had crosses where the tiles came together. Each time I saw a cross, it reminded me that God was with me. Each one made me feel calmer inside.
On the morning of my surgery, I was calm but very scared. In my hand, I held a cross from a necklace my mom had given me at Christmas. I meant to give the cross to my husband when they wheeled me in to the surgery waiting area but I forgot. I remembered when I got to the holding area that I was still clutching it in my hand. I started to tell one of the people in the room that I needed them to take the Cross to Mike. But everytime I would start to tell someone, I would get distracted. The Iv put me to sleep before I was able to tell anyone. The surgeon didn’t find cancer but instead severe endiometriosis. I had to have a total hysterectomy but that didn’t matter. I knew I would recover.
It wasn’t until I was home for a few days that I remember the cross I had held in my hand. I had no idea what had happened to it. Maybe it had fallen onto the floor and been swept up. Or maybe someone had found it and set it aside to give back to me. I was feeling really sad about it when I went to my purse for something. There in the bottom of my purse was a plastic cross on which we written Jesus Loves You. I had no idea where it came from or how it got there. But there it remained. Every time I would feel nervous, or worried or scared, all I had to do was reach into my purse, see that reassuring “sign” and I felt better. And I would smile knowing that someone, somewhere must have found my cross and maybe saw it as a sign to them that God would take care of them too. I gave that plastic cross to Andy one day because he asked if he could give it to a friend who had just lost his grandpa.
And I replaced it with another one. And I have given several away, right out of my purse to people who look like they need a sign of reassurance. And then I replace my “sign”with another.
I have stopped playing the God please give me a sign game. Because I know I am being guided in my daily life by a God who loved me enough to give me what I needed most at just the right time.
And that is the story.
On my recent speed dating adventure, one of the men asked me what is your sign. Without thinking I said the cross and realized it when he got a puzzled look on his face. Then I said, oh Zodiac Sign…I’m a Virgo. I would have told him the story of the Cross, but the bell rang and it was time to move on to the next person.
I do love crosses. Not only a symbol of my religious faith, but a personal symbol of faith. At the foot of the cross, I lay my burdens down.
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