Sixteen years ago the liklihood of never seeing seventy

. . . blazed from the pathology report handed to me three weeks before Christmas. Though stunned, I told Gale not to worry; we would get through it. He wasn't convinced and gave me an early Christmas present when we got home -- a nicer set of wedding rings to replace the cheaper ones.  

The sober reality didn't hit me until I woke up, weak and vulnerable, after breast cancer surgery. I've told this many times, but the spiritual experience that followed is ever so precious to me today on my seventieth birthday.

With tears, I prayed, "Lord, what's going to happen to me? I'm not afraid to die, but I'm a wimp when I think of chemotherapy. I don't like nausea. I don't think I can handle this."

Suddenly, I literally felt God wrap His arms around me, telling me He would help me through it, and then He gave me a song:Sheltered in The Arms of God. I sang it in my mind.

I recently told Gale that not once did I think of dying during the year of chemotherapy, two additional high dose sessions, radiation, no hair, and learning to eat again after being fed by tube a couple months. I had very little nausea. God is good. Happy birthday to me.