There Are Good Things Here

When Katie Hubbard started chemotherapy for breast cancer, she stopped writing in her journal but started writing more frequently on her Caring Bridge blog. The world is probably a better place for it, because more people got a window into the practical and emotional challenges of going through cancer treatment for the first time. In this episode, you'll find Katie doing what she can to find the good and express it with humor as she begins chemotherapy for breast cancer.

In mid-April 2009, Katie Hubbard picked up her pen and journal after a few weeks away (recovering from surgery). The three entries from this time all focus on God’s purposes in times of testing and his power in our weakness. Katie also reflects on the fact that Jesus, who never did any wrong, learned obedience through suffering. If “the captain of our faith” suffered, how should we expect to pass through life without suffering, too?

For the first time since receiving her initial cancer diagnosis, Katie Hubbard finally received good news: there was no evidence that her cancer had spread. Though she couldn’t write in her journal (because she had drainage tubes under her arm from the mastectomy), she did post a couple of updates on Caring Bridge about the relief that good new brought. Of course, learning that the worst hadn’t happened gave her the mental space to process the hard things that had happened. In her own words, she almost fainted twice in one day thinking about the surgeries she had been through. Even so, the kids were back at home with all the energy they brought, and Katie was resolved to find the good (and even humorous) things in life as we were living it.

When Katie Hubbard went in for a mastectomy and initial pathology on her breast cancer, she was prepared for good news and bad news. She did not know there was a third option: even worse news. When Katie woke up from anesthesia, she discovered the doctor had to remove all her lymph nodes, putting her at long-term risk of developing lymphedema. It also meant waiting for a pathology report to stage the cancer and move on with treatment. In this bleak hour, Katie relied on Romans 8:28 about how God works for the good of those who love him, no matter the circumstances. In doing so, she staked the peace of her soul on the promises of God.

In this episode, Katie wrestles with practical and emotional demands of an upcoming mastectomy and lymph node biopsy. She knew the procedure would leave her humbled and scarred. None of us knew what it would say about the stage of her cancer. Both the known and the unknown were heavy loads to carry.

In her journal entries for mid-March 2009, Katie Hubbard describes the apprehension she felt after and MRI biopsy to determine whether her breast cancer had spread. “What will today bring?" she asks the Lord. “Good news? Bad news? No news?” This is the tension every person (and family) lives with after an initial cancer diagnosis. In Katie’s case, she received bad news that she would have to have a mastectomy. This led her to a lot of soul-searching and she cried out to God for help. One of the most searching moments you will find her journal comes when she writes, “I will have wounds. You have wounds … but you had no anesthesia.” In the midst of her pain, she was discovering how Jesus had entered her pain already to be with her in the suffering.

Katie Hubbard gives a rare glimpse into her heart and mind as she prepares for a follow up MRI and biopsy after her initial cancer diagnosis. You will be inspired (and sobered) by her raw pleas for help, and you'll smile at comments like, "I survived my MRI! Thankfully, Lord, I had you and two Valium." Mostly, she wanted the procedures to be painless and the news to be good, but she recognized that her Savior, Jesus, had "suffered without anesthesia". She was learning what her own share of suffering would entail at this time.

As Katie Hubbard lived through the early days of a cancer diagnosis, she faced the fatigue and fear you'd expect. She also took the time to write short entries of prayer to the Lord. Many of us feel like we ought to say something substantial to God when we pray. That's not a bad idea if you can manage it. If you have a one-year-old who won't sleep, an unexpected cancer diagnosis, and worries about how you're going to make it financially, it may be better not to force things, though. In the early days of her cancer diagnosis, Katie Hubbard shows that you can write (pray) the simple things—like praise and thanksgiving—when life gets complex.

As Katie Hubbard tried to wrap her mind around her initial diagnosis of breast cancer, she was not traveling alone. The philosopher-pastor Dallas Willard was helping shape her thinking through his book, The Renovation of the Heart. She wondered whether it was possible for God to transform her in the midst of her trials. In her words, "What if all of these tribulations produced perseverance, character, and hope? What if I looked to the future glorying in tribulations, instead of cowering in fear that something might go wrong?" What if your trials could accomplish the same thing in you? Katie Hubbard was not simply trying to wrap her mind around an initial cancer diagnosis; rather, she was fixing her mind on the promises of God in Jesus Christ.

Welcome to the second season of There Are Good Things Here, the podcast where we follow Katie Hubbard's journal entries through her first year with a breast cancer diagnosis. The podcast opens with Katie's prayers and reflections on the normal busy-ness of life with four kids, lots of company, and the stresses of life near the end of the Great Recession. Katie's practice had always been to process her days in prayer to God, often writing out her prayers in her journal. On January 27, 2009, she received word that a biopsy on a mass from her right breast had come back positive for breast cancer. What do you do when life takes such an unexpectedly hard turn? You turn to God and the truths of his word. At least, that's what Katie Hubbard did when she was first confronted with an initial breast cancer diagnosis.

Katie Hubbard's journal entry when she was first diagnosed with cancer in 2009