It's Not Good News

Yesterday afternoon, I excused myself from a busy convention room and found a quiet stairwell in order to return a call from my parents. My dad answered the phone: "It's not good news." My mother has lung cancer. Having never been a smoker, it wasn't the diagnosis we expected. For the past few weeks, she's battled a really persistent pneumonia that's resisted antibiotics. That led to more testing, which in turn led to the discovery of cancer. My folks will be meeting with an oncologist this week to discuss what comes next and what options they have.

I made my way home from Baltimore through the sluggish commute rush last night, which gave me a couple of hours alone in the car just to think and pray. I feel really emotional right now, but I'm not sure how to define the emotions. It's an odd, conflicting mix of sadness, apprehension, and compassion tempered by a quiet, confident peace of knowing that God is always in control. I also feel this restless urgency -- this desire to do something but the realization that I'm powerless.

The world feels a bit surreal this morning. I had odd, sad dreams last night. As Margo and I lay in bed this morning waiting to start the day, we talked a bit about cancer, about life, about the upcoming holidays. I drove to the office to catch up on e-mail and get started on this week's sermon (I had planned to start us off in Galatians this week, but I'm feeling pulled in a different direction now), and everything just sort of feels distant and removed -- like I'm looking through a screen and watching a movie of someone else's experience. It's a really odd feeling. Stunned maybe? Letting the news settle in? I don't know.

I suspect I'll be spending some really intense hours in prayer in the days ahead....