You have cancer. Three small words. A small sentence, really. But when those three words fell out of Dr Baig’s mouth all I assumed of life imploded. Suddenly, there were blood tests, dressing gowns, tubes, ER visits, surgery, and tears and fear and
Need.
Days after my diagnosis, I walked into Trinity. I’d drifted away from church for many reasons. Some valid, others– not so much. Trinity’s red doors opened and I was enveloped in music, joy-filled faces and welcome. As I listened to Dr. Rev. Lisa Tucker-Gray the implosion of my life paused. Hope leaked in.
A few Sundays later, my wife, Susan, and I showed up early just to sit with our eyes closed in the peace of the sanctuary. Lisa was in her vestments warming-up, readying for greetings. We approached her and I shared my three words, I have cancer. She grabbed Susan and I in a hug, and in that unassailable embrace prayed a prayer that poured all I ever imagined of God’s power and promise into me and shared her three words, You are loved.
There are three-word phrases that make us wary: Partial assembly required.
There are three-word phrases that make us laugh: Can’t touch this.
There are three-word phrases that make us believe: You are loved.
Peace be with you,
Fritz