About illness and prayer and losing the fear of death

This is a postscript on the piece I have recently published on my 'all sorts' site about my successful treatment for cancer.

The reason why I can never be smug about my decision not to accept the surgery offered to me, which was, statistically speaking, the correct and sensible answer to my condition, is that I know that the procedure that I had instead could so easily not have been successful.

The surgeon, a lovely man and a committed Christian, was clear in explaining that the operation had not gone well, and why, and what could be the result, and I could see what he meant. This is what caused my long dark nights of the soul.

I believe, with complete certainty, that it was the prayers of my family and friends and my total trust that God knew that I needed to be completely fit to care for husband and son-at-home and to keep up with our ever-expanding and lovely family that brought me through the 'valley of the shadow of death'.

I trusted that my choice would enable me to continue to visit and spend time with very precious friends and to carry on with our church commitments, plus my greatest delight which is hymn-singing with the children at our local primary school and it has.

I was told that there was a 30% chance that the cancer could spread. The fact that, between the operation in mid-July and the test in early September, it had completely disappeared was, as far as I'm concerned, a miracle of God's love and healing. Nothing will ever shake that belief.

On the evening I came back from Good Hope Hospital, I lay in bed looking at the July sun setting in the sky and, at some time during that evening, this image came unbidden into my mind. I was sitting on a small raft in the middle of a gentle river. The raft was made of wood and was strong and secure.

Along the banks of the river were beautiful flowers and trees. I saw that the river was a river of love and that the raft was God's love and I was being carried from this life to the next in one continuous, calm and peaceful journey. From that time on, I have had no fear of dying whatsoever.

Thanks be to God, to the love and prayers of family and friends, and for love itself which is life in all its fullness.

A poem for the time when I am no longer here

In Love's Embrace

If you should hear that I have died
do not be sad, be glad for me.
Though love is real and joys abound,
life's pain is clear, for all to see.

The many tears that I have cried,
for grief untold and sorrows seen,
for early dawn's anxiety;
for what is and what might have been,
will fade away in love's embrace
when we behold the wondrous place
where all shall dwell in God alone, 
our final and eternal home.

This is certainly not the greatest poem ever and some of the lines are not very good, no matter how I search for better expressions and rhythms. However, others of the lines have been echoing in my head for weeks and will not let go so this is the best I have come up with so far.

Also, it seemed appropriate to post them in November and particularly on the weekend of remembrance, here and maybe in other places around the world but especially in France, on the anniversary of the atrocity which took place in Paris a year ago today.

It might even be something that others might have liked to say to their loved ones who are left behind. I can only hope that in some circumstances, it might, perhaps, bring some sort of comfort and, maybe, some understanding.