This is about my sister. This is for my sister.
She has stage four metastatic breast cancer. That means her breast cancer has traveled to different areas of her body. In this case, her liver, her bones, her lungs and a spot in her brain that was blasted with intense radiation and is no longer on the radar.
My sister is Trina.
She’s an extrovert. People energize her. They always have. She laughs all the time. And loves all the time too. She invited a hooker to her church once. Because that’s the kind of person she is.
And she LOVES a party.
And loves to celebrate.
She loves EVERYONE.
And they love her back.
Trina was diagnosed with breast cancer, stage 1A just over six years ago. She had a double mastectomy (it was a radical approach for stage 1A, but she wanted the cancer gone, without question). Five years later, after she had just celebrated her “five years cancer free” milestone, she went in for some pain in her back and found that the cancer had spread. It was almost everywhere. One of those phone calls you never forget.
She’s my sister. Not like normal, though. We grew up in a war zone family. Bad step dad. Bad as in real bad. Real bad as in…well, you get the picture. So we stuck together. We always have.
As a kid, she protected me, got me out of the house when I needed a break. And now, as adult siblings, we talk on the phone 3-5 times a week. Sometimes for two minutes. Sometimes for an hour.
And we laugh…A LOT.
And dance whenever we get the chance.
And we are there for each other.
We bail each other out when things get really hard. And when the going gets even tougher—when it gets unbearable—when cancer sinks in its claws—well, we wear wigs. Cuz we’re kind of a BIG DEAL!
We tell all the same old stories we’ve been telling each other for years—stories we should be so sick of by now, but never will be. We talk about our love for our life partners, and how lucky we are to have them. We talk about the most insignificant things you can think of, like how Circus Peanuts, Peeps, and Cow Tails can only be considered GOOD candy if you are one hundred and fourteen years old.
We talk about those stupid little things that make us “US“. But more recently we talk about her frustrating new way of life with cancer. Well, she talks. I usually just listen.
It’s a good friendship—a best friendship. I can’t do life without her. I simply don’t know how. The thought of her not being around one day—the audacity that she could somehow be sucked out of this world—is absurd.
She needs to get better, my friends, and that is all.
So…HERE IS MY CANCER REQUEST for you and anyone you share this note with. I’m asking for your prayers, but in a very specific way.
Yesterday, she received a less than favorable report from her most recent scans. Two of the larger spots in her liver have grown only a few millimeters, but this is happening after 6 months of chemo and while she has been under continuing hormone treatments to shrink the cancer. Most of her scans showed no sign of growth in her bones, lungs or brain (this is good news), but her liver is not cooperating and hasn’t been for sometime.
On Monday, she and her team of physicians will be talking treatment for the next leg of the journey.
She’s tired. She’s sad, yet hopeful. Frustrated, yet enduring. Patient and still with that beautiful sense of humor. Outside of this deadly prognosis, she’s perfect.
What I’m requesting may seem a little odd, but I’m no longer concerned about that, so here it is:
We are all likely different in our approach to life, God, and faith. There are a lot of people out there who approach God with more questions or perhaps more frustration than what is typical for a “normal person” of faith. These are those real people that I absolutely adore.
You are poets, musicians, businesswomen, atheists, teachers, artists, stay at homies, pastors, bankers, the poor, the rich, black, white, yellow, young and old.
Many of you have seen the underbelly of life and have been brave enough to acknowledge it for what it is—Hell.
The weak-minded and irresponsible among us often turn their atrocities (or ours) into some sort of falsified or frenetic celebration. They say, “God has a plan” at the most inappropriate times. They have their reasons, I’m certain. But for this prayer, I am not calling on those who believe that God grants wishes like Santa.
If God is there at all, he is beyond my grasp of understanding—a Mystery I greatly respect and at times, and at other times, hate. I simply cannot fathom his higher ways.
So I am calling on you. I trust your life experience. In fact, I am relying on it.
Would you pray, asking for a direct miracle for my sister—for Trina’s life and the healing of her cancer?
I don’t ask for miracles often, but when I do, I always attach the words “if it be your will, oh God.” But I’m asking that you would you leave those words out of your prayer this time around. Because if it’s not God’s will to heal her, then I want his will changed. The will of God has been changed before so I believe anything is possible. If his almighty answer is no, I will deal with the shattering disappointment of that another time.
Today…I’m asking that he change his will and heal my sister.
TO THE ATHEISTS AMONG YOU: On my behalf, would you lay aside your unbelief in God for a very short time. It’s a big request I know—one I am humbly making at this very moment with tears in my eyes. But I boldly make this request because I feel I may need your prayers most of all. Perhaps God will hear your courageous voices before any of the rest of ours. So would you please whisper them out for this man who does believe?
How all of you pray, I don’t care. But in your own way, please speak the words “Heal her, oh God. If you’re really out there, go ahead and heal Trina.” Pray them along with me. Say them over and over, and then over and over again until you feel they have been heard by something greater…by someOne greater.
Trina has been through more than most people should ever have to go through—abandonment, abuse of many kinds, betrayal and now disease. I’m confident it’s been too much. Why has it happened? I don’t care anymore. I only want to see her relieved.
I hope you’ll take a moment to share this post, believing that her story could change through the prayers, faith, hope and love of others. Please repost it and pray for my sister.
Please pray for Trina.
With deepest gratitude,
P.S. One of the things Trina and I grew up doing was singing—music was a gift our mother gave us. To be able to do this music video with her (and my mom) was something other worldly for me. I will never forget the love in the room that day.
“We want a God who heals our wounds, but it seems we have a God who heals our hearts.”Tweet This On this day, God was definitely healing my broken heart. We are ALL going to be okay, my friends.
I hope you love this as much as I do.
***CLICK LINK TO READ FOLLOW-UP BLOG POST: “WHEN AN ATHEIST PRAYS (AND WHY I’VE ASKED FOR THEIR PRAYERS MOST OF ALL)“
CHECK OUT MY BOOK: FINDING GOD IN THE RUINS here.