Keeping the faith in times of trouble

Owned and published by UMHB, The Bells is a biweekly publication. This content was previously published in print on the Opinions page. Opinions expressed in this section do not necessarily reflect the views of the staff or the university.

The beating of my heart increased as I fumbled to find my mother’s telephone number in my contact list. After two rings she answered.

“What happened?” I asked. “He found something,” my mother said.

Those words held my breath while my insides seeped into my stomach. In my world, those words did not exist.

According to the National Cancer Institute, nearly 19,000 people in the U.S. are diagnosed with primary brain cancers each year. My mother could have been one of them.

During my lifetime, I’ve only attended two family funerals, but the possibility of losing a close relative poked my mind. The telephone call I made that day proved I am subject to losing someone I love just like everyone else.

For the rest of the day, I wondered what my life would be like if my mother did not overcome this tumor. I resisted the tears ready to drip down my face at any moment. That night, I crawled into bed and prayed for her.

The next day, I woke up feeling peace about the tumor in her brain. In my heart, I knew everything was going to be OK. However, people looked at me strangely because I remained upbeat. To them, I was not assessing the illness. I was underestimating the tumor. Consequently, I began to question if I was wrong for being calm.

One day I told my fiancé I was scared.

“Fear and faith cannot exist together,” he said.

After analyzing my family’s obstacle, I knew the peace I felt about my mother’s upcoming operation was not a mistake. God meant to give me serenity.

When it came time for surgery, I sat beside my mother in the hospital room watching the doctor explain the operation. Even though the doctor lingered when completing his sentences and seemed more interested in the show that was playing on the TV in the hospital room, I kept the faith.

I kissed my mother, said, “I love you,” and watched the nurses roll her away. Sadness grasped my sister and aunt as I tried to console them. I already knew the outcome. My mother was going to be OK.

About three hours later, my belief was confirmed. She defeated a quarter of an inch non-cancerous tumor.

The National Cancer Institute predicted that 22,020 men and women will be diagnosed with cancer of the brain while 13,140 of them will die from it and other nervous system disorders in 2010.

Receiving the worst news is inevitable for many people. At the moment it comes, uncertainty and doubt become overwhelming, but it does not have to be that way.

People should embrace peace while keeping the faith. It is confirmation that the worst will be conquered through Christ.

Author: Chelesea Carter

Chelesea Carter is a senior English major minoring in writing at UMHB. She is an assistant page editor for The Bells newspaper. Though she came from the small town of Caldwell, Texas, she spent most of her teenage years in Aggieland. Chelesea enjoys baking delicious goodies, reading novels and discovering new things about others. Writing about social issues allows Chelesea to share her compassion for helping others. Her life-long goal is to improve the desolate state of the world.

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