Ain't No Clouds In My Skies...

  "I sense that you will never stop worrying about this until you know 100% that you're okay.  Am I right?"
The doctor smiled looking across the table at me.

He's a smart man.  I can tell.  I mean, yeah, he's a doctor...so obviously he's smart...but he's also very good at reading people.

"Do you have a family history of any kind of cancer."  He asked.

It was my turn to smile.  I then began to list all the cancers in my family.  "My dad had lung cancer when I was fourteen, which would have made him about 44, I think.  He also had colon cancer immediately after, which had nothing to do with the lung cancer.  My dad's dad died of lung cancer.  My dad's mom had breast cancer.  My mom's mom died from complications of colon cancer.  My mom's brother also died from colon cancer. I proceeded to list more family members, and when I was finished his smile had faded into a solemn expression."

"Is there anyone who hasn't died from cancer?" He asked.

"Well, yes, but there are more that have than have not." I looked down at my hands uncomfortably.

"Are you having any problems yourself?" He asked.

"Well, yeah...I've always had issues."  As I sat there explaining every embarrassing issue I'd had in the colon department since I was old enough to recognize the issue, he listened intently.  When I was finished, I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off of my shoulders.  This man is going to listen to me.  He is going to help me.
"Well, Mrs. Bell," He said, "I think the best thing to do is a colonoscopy.  You have a family history.  You're having issues, and I think it really would just ease your mind.  Do I think you have cancer? Probably not.  But considering all the family history of cancer, it wouldn't hurt for us to watch you extra closely."

It was a long month.  Waiting for this day to get here.  I've prayed a lot.  Thought a lot about cancelling the entire procedure.  But then I would think of my children burying me just out of high school, and I knew it was the right decision.  The thing is, cancer is preventable.  From the foods that we eat...to what we put into our bodies...to what we breath...we are not invincible...our lives can end very easily, and much earlier than we would like...

I know where I'm goin' when it's time to meet my maker.  I'm not afraid to die.  But as a mother, I am very much afraid to leave my children at this stage in their lives.  It was extremely difficult for me, losing my dad at the age of 24.  And even before that, part of him was gone.  Something happens to someone who gets cancer.  They lose a part of themselves.  My dad walked around for 10 years afraid his time was almost up.  And then it was.  For 10 years, a gray cloud hung over my family's head, and then one day the gray turned to black...and then he was gone.  I will never forget that pain.   And if I can shield my children...my husband from that pain early in our lives, I will.

I've been battling anxiety for a good 5 years.  Coincidentally, that's about how long my dad's been gone.  For a very long time, the devil has picked at me.  "What if you have cancer." , "What if you died.", "What if you're sick."

And I cowered in fear before him.  It was a crippling fear. A fear that affected every aspect of my life.  It affected my relationships.  It held me back.  It made my beautiful, imperfect life less enjoyable.  

Today, as I sat with the Doctor, listening to my good report, I finally felt at peace.  "No signs of cancer...no problems...see you in three years.  Colon cancer is the most curable cancer you can get if you catch it early.  You and I are gonna be great friends, Mrs. Bell".   (What a nice man. Haha.)  I finally felt at peace.  And more than that, I felt like I'd given the devil a black eye!! Not because I didn't have cancer.  But because I had taken control of my fear. And I decided that, he can only have the power to make me afraid if I let him.  And I'm not going to let him.

No more gray cloud in my skies.  My God doesn't allow clouds in his sky.  My life is in God's hands, and even more than that, my childrens' lives are in God's hands.  And that's okay with me.












God's my saviour, God's my healer, God's my deliverer.  YES HE IS!

2 Timothy 1:7

7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

My Salvation Story: My True Testimony

Oceans (Where feet may fail) By: Hillsong

I've pondered this post for a month or longer.  I've been through so much with myself (What?!) in the last month.  The truth is...I have always struggled with my salvation.  Since the day I asked the Lord to save me...

I still remember it like it was yesterday.  I was 8 years old, and my mom was in a singing group.  The group attended a singing one night.  I remember sitting in the front row of this little church...bored as could be...not paying a lot of attention.  My dad had to get onto me for misbehaving...and when dad got onto me...he meant business.  I started to listen to the preacher, and all of the sudden, I realized I didn't want to die and go to hell.
I'd always believed in God.  I'd always believed that Jesus died on the cross to save me of my sins, and that he rose again in three days.  I believed that he was coming back for us someday.  But in that moment...the possibility of hell was made real to me.  I didn't go to the alter that night.  I waited until we got home.  I was anxious and upset, so I decided to just go on to bed.  But I couldn't sleep.  Finally, I went to my mom and said, "MOM, I need to be saved! And I need to be saved right NOW!"
My parents sat me down at their bed side, and my dad took out his bible and started explaining the plan of salvation to me.  Honestly, I don't remember a thing he said.  All I can remember is thinking he needed to hurry it up because I needed to get saved RIGHT NOW! Finally, when we knelt down at the bed, I remember hearing my parents praying and watching my tears hit the bed railing.  My heart cried out to God that to save me...broken in two...but I never uttered a word after saying to my mom, "I need to be saved!"
That was the night I got saved.

But all my life, the devil has whispered in my ear, "What about that fact that you never said a word?", "You didn't ask!"
And I would panic, and I'd whisper a prayer, "Lord, if I'm not saved, please save me. I believe in you. I believe I'm a sinner.  Lord please save me."
Once, I even told my dad about how I felt.  He just said, "It happens sometimes..  The devil likes to keep us down.  Use fear against us.  That's how he works"

But see, God doesn't work that way.  The verse says, "Whosoever will, let him come."  It doesn't say "Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord, will be saved if I feel like it..." , It says, "whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord, SHALL be saved."  It's not about feelings...it's about faith.

About a month ago...our church had a revival.  It was really a great revival, and just like the Saviour always does...he came looking for me.  The Lord had been dealing with my heart that week, and finally, I went to the alter and prayed. I went through the steps that are laid out for us.  I confessed, I asked, I believed...I even got up and told the church God had saved me that night. But unlike that night when I was 8 years old at my parent's bed side, I didn't feel any better.  I felt worse.  I couldn't eat.  I couldn't sleep.  I could hardly do my job at work.  I would be in the middle of a task at work and all the sudden my mind would go to that night and I would almost burst into tears.

After two days of this, I had about had all I could take.  I was at work and I just broke down.  I went to my car at lunch, and just bowed my head and cried.  No words came out...there was no poetic prayer...it was just me and God....and my ugly cry.  I finally just let it all go.  And as I sat there sobbing, Hannah popped into my mind.  And how she was so heartbroken when she'd prayed to the Lord in the temple that no words came except for her sobbing...and the priest thought she was drunk because she spoke but not words came from her mouth.

And I realized...he hears me...even when I can't speak...he hears me.  He hears my heart.  And as soon as I realized this, and believed this, my fear went away.  I felt this rush of peace come over me, and I just knew that I was saved! And it didn't matter if he'd saved me at 8 years old or last month...the important thing is...I'm saved!! And nothing that I can do can change that.  I believe he saved me at 8 years old...I believe that being saved has more to do with faith than words.  And praise God he saw fit to come looking for me...both to save me...and to reassure me.  Oh how He loves me. And I thank Him every day for my salvation story because it's mine.