I promised to live this real time out loud... this time it was after a nightmare in the middle of the night. Bear with me, I soon got lucid enough to design my porch desk, ruminate on whether I could make my upcoming work trips, and what to do with the rest of my life, however long it is. My life is in God’s hands and I want it to count. I’ll have to focus on things I can complete which have the biggest impact.

With the first strain of the first refrain

Tears streamed down my face

met under my chin and made a river down my throat

into my cleavage that might be cleaved with cancer

I prayed that they would be tears of healing,

waters of cleansing, bathing my breast with God’s healing, presence, and peace

washing the sickness, fear and grief from my chest

Today I took a “well day” to pray with my international friends. Friends, I pray your journey leads to health, not the valley of the shadow of death, but wherever your path leads, know this: God is with you. My friend encouraged me to rejoice in suffering, even dance. If he can do it through all he’s suffered, we can too. We need meditation and prayer as much as we need therapies and remedies.

What a perfect way to spend the weekend: at a prayer retreat in between mammograms. Every day of the rest of my life, I want to live for God. I’ve been afraid of taking leaps of faith to trust in God instead of a paycheque, but Kimberly Smith, who took a great big leap of faith to support orphans and widows in Darfur, is inspiring me to.

I told my sister I need a second mammogram, and talked through who else to tell what to, when.

The day the doctor and hospital call within minutes. I think I know what that means. I'm scared.