Wobbly Legs on a Firm Foundation

Chapter 19

One Friday afternoon in February, a nurse from our family doctor called.

“Miss Cox, we would like to schedule a time on Monday for your family to come in and go over the test results.”

“Monday? You want us to wait until Monday? You are looking at the test results, yet you want us to wait an entire weekend to see if my daddy’s cancer is back or not? Tell me the results now,” I demanded.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” she said. “With the new insurance privacy policies, we are unable to disclose that information over the phone.”

“Then do not call on a Friday evening!” I screamed. “Can you imagine what this is like waiting to know if your father’s cancer is back or not?” Suddenly, the doctor’s voice was on the phone, calming me down, and reminding me that it was not the nurse’s fault.

I was not angry at her anyway. I was angry at cancer. I knew it had raised its ugly head again the second I heard his racking cough coming from the living room one night. I wanted to punch cancer. I wanted to rip it to pieces and make it feel the pain it had inflicted on my family.
Monday’s results were positive, as we had suspected. We readied ourselves in our roller coaster seats, strapped down our harnesses, and white-knuckled the next few months of chemotherapy. If radiation had been Popeye, chemotherapy was Rocky Balboa to my daddy’s insides. He was so sick during this time, but we trusted in the Lord, and again, He proved Himself still in the miracle-working business.

I was back at college for the summer, living with a sorority sister, and preparing to finish my Masters degree along with my much dreaded comprehensive exams. My mother called my cell phone one day while I was working on one of two research papers that were due. “Nia, your daddy’s cancer is gone! The doctors said it would just take about a month for him to get the chemotherapy out of his body before he’ll begin to feel good again. Praise God! It is over!”

Her phone call had come on a Saturday. My sister’s phone call came the following Wednesday. “Nia, you need to get your comprehensive exams moved up from Saturday to as soon as you can. Daddy’s in the hospital. He has too many complications from the chemo in reaction with his diabetes, failed knee replacements, etc. You need to come home.”

I immediately went to work talking to my professors to get my exams moved up. I went into a classroom on Friday, and four hours later, I was sitting in my car, looking down at my cell phone, and dreading to call my sister’s number. I knew that she had been withholding news until I got finished with my exams so that I could concentrate on studying.

“Tell me the truth, Valerie. What’s going on?” I asked.

“He doesn’t have much time, Nia,” she answered. “You need to come home fast.”

I know that it does not seem fair after all that I have described to you that the Lord had done for us, but when I received that news, I could have cared less about talking to God. Yet, He was still providing for me. Jason, was, for the first time, on a construction job in Alabama. Not only that, the job was only thirty minutes away from my college. I called him and begged him to come drive me home.

As I walked into my friend’s apartment to wait for Jason, I dropped to the floor. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I pulled at my hair. My temples were soaked from tears rolling back into my hair line. “Why God? We begged You to let him live! God, I’m supposed to get married in five months. Why would you take him away now? He’ll never be able to walk me down the aisle!” Then, the prayers/screams stopped. I could not and did not want to talk to God again. I was angry with Him, He had not shown up for me, and I had nothing else to say. Later, I learned that there was prayer going on despite my angry mouth not moving: Romans 8:26 (New International Version) “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.”