ONE-EYED GOD WINKS

The morning we returned from our cruise, I checked in to the cancer center for a PET scan. 

Sitting in the waiting room, I observed the comings and goings of precious souls in various stages of cancer. Some were in wheelchairs, many had brightly-colored scarves covering their hairless heads, most looked gaunt and weary.  Yet every single person who looked my way offered a smile which I gratefully returned, along with a prayer. 

I didn't consider myself to be “one of them”.  I didn't feel like a cancer patient. Still,  I was honored to be in the company of  mighty warriors who never volunteered for such duty. 

I couldn't really tell you the precise moment that clarity struck, or as I like to say, sh*t got real. Somewhere between the waiting room and the act of being slid in and out of the PET scanner like an indecisive pizza pie, I accepted the reality that cancer would change my life in a defining way. 

And once again I heard, “Breathe in Jesus... breathe out peace.” 

As I became accustomed to the noise of the machine, I noticed music playing softly in the background. It was a Christian song that I had heard before, but really did not know. (I don't often listen to contemporary Christian music – I'm an old-time gospel kind of gal.)  Even though I couldn't hear all the words, the beautiful melody calmed me.   Then, just as the noisy scanner clicked off, I heard the final chorus of the song loud and clear: 

It is well, it is well... with my soul. 

My face broke out in a smile as I tried to keep my eyes from leaking. Those nine little words at the end of that song were a God Wink to me. 

[God Wink (noun) An event or personal experience, often identified as coincidence, so astonishing that it is seen as a sign of divine intervention, especially when perceived as the answer to a prayer.]

Last year, when my brothers and I were planning Mom's funeral, I was adamant about including “It Is Well” in her celebration services. I wasn't sure why, but I knew it had to be. 

Several months later, my cousin sent me a CD she had recorded from old reel-to-reel tapes of our family singing gospel music. It was a treasure of unspeakable worth. My Daddy's big bass voice blending with his Dad and family, along with my Mom's beautiful alto, simply flooded my heart with precious memories. But the best part was hearing their noisy chatter and jovial banter between songs. My Mom's voice – wilting violet that she was – came through loud and clear. In her twangy Texas brawl she drawled, “Paaaaauuuuul, I wanna sing that song that we sang in church... It is Well With My Soul. I loooooove that song – I want it sang at my funeral! 

And three decades later, my soul remembered and her wish was fulfilled. 

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Yesterday, I was visiting with my sister/friend – my 'ride or die' chick. We've been together from the cradle. From skinned knees to age spots... baby lotion to Retin-A... diapers to Depends (she's gonna kill me for that one). 

My friend was telling me how worried she was about my health, fearful of not having me in her life. “Robin, the entire time you were in surgery, all I did was pray and sing this song over you..." 

 

As she played the song, the words touched me deeply. We listened together in silent tears, our old familiar hearts exchanging words too hard to speak. And as I heard the last chorus I realized... 

This was the very song God had sent me during my PET scan. 

So many God Winks. So much peace in the knowledge that God is walking beside me each step of the way. Not a whisper of need to understand His purpose, only inadequacy in expressing gratitude for my blessings... for His healing.  Always with the understanding that 'Even If' He did not heal me, my hope is forever in Him. 

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Approximately half of Ocular Melanoma patients have a specific genetic make-up indicating a high risk of developing cancer mets (primarily to the liver). For this particular cancer, DNA testing is a very accurate prognosticator. 

This morning, I received the results of my biopsy. They were everything we prayed for --- I'm in the other half.

My doctor gave me an “Excellent Prognosis” which means this: Melanoma is a tricky little turd and there's always a possibility that years down the road, it might show up, again. It's also likely that I could die tomorrow from eating 14 servings of desserts in one setting. That's exactly how the King of Sweden died in 1771 and I'm pretty sure he's my Spirit Animal. 

But cancer..?  Nope.  Not today.

P.S.  GET YOUR EYES DILATED!!!