Prayers in time of worry

by Bishop Raymond A. Lucker

My struggle with cancer has led me on an incredible spiritual journey. At the present time the cancer is in remission. However, I need to go to the Mayo Clinic every three months for a check-up. Each visit is a time of concern. Here is what I wrote in my journal on August 22, 2000.

I have just had a bone scan and I am waiting to see the doctor who will explain the results. I am nervous and a little afraid of this one. In my last three month check-up two weeks ago, he said that everything was fine, but . . . the blood test was fine, as was the CAT scan of the lungs. But, he saw something that looked like a blur near the back bone. I might have moved, he said. Or maybe it was a touch of arthritis. He didn’t think it was cancer, but he wanted to make sure. He ordered a bone scan. I had that this morning.

Now I sit in the lobby as hundreds of people, many in wheelchairs, go by-to lunch, to their next appointment, waiting to check in with their doctors to go over the results of tests. I worry that the melanoma will turn up in the bones. I fear the pain, the unknown. I wonder how much time I have left. I try to sort out priorities.

"Lord, I know that you love me", I pray. "You have shown your love in so many ways. You created me and continue to hold me in being. You showered me with gifts. You called me to the priesthood. You have been with me and with the whole church calling us to renewal and using us as instruments in making you present in this world.

"What an exciting time to be alive. Ever since that special time in Rome during the Second Vatican Council, I came to know you personally and to experience your love. You have touched me intimately through the faith of many people, through the community I live with, and through my friends and extended family.

"Now I think that I may be entering into a period of dependence. Lord, I depend on you. You hold me in your arms as a loving mother. You give me courage and strength. You show your love through people, thousands of them, who are praying for me and surrounding me with care and concern.

"With you in the Eucharist I offer my life, my suffering, my pain, and my death. I walk with you to the cross and to resurrection. You say, ‘My yoke is easy and my burden light.’ I believe that Lord, but help my weakness. Give me the grace to put everything in your hands. Through the Holy Eucharist you are present with us in the tabernacle, and through the grace of union you remain in each of us and all of us together."

I continue to watch the people go by, some of them with the same anxious face that I have. We put up a brave front. I don’t know about them. But I can only be brave knowing that I am in the loving arms of God.

The bone scan did not show the "blur" that appeared on the first scan, but something else turned up. The doctor said that "hot spots" showed up in my ribs indicating some metabolic activity. He advised me to return again in a couple of weeks. Now I am really anxious. Again on September 20 I went back for more tests and sat in the waiting room jotting down my prayers and feelings.

I wrote: "I am sitting here again at the Mayo Clinic waiting to see the oncologist. I have been anxious ever since the bone scan turned up a couple of ‘hot spots’ in my ribs. The doctor said I ought to have a rib x-ray to see what the problem is. It looks as if it were a cracked or bruised rib, he said, and that melanoma rarely goes to the bone first.

Nevertheless, during the last couple of weeks I have been worried. I couldn’t sleep for a few nights. The worst passes before my mind. I think - The cancer has taken hold. It is now in my bones. I only have a few months to live."

Today I sit here quite calm. I take that as a special gift. I don’t think it is melanoma. I feel good. The little pain on the right side has gone away. It seems to be the result of some muscle strain from working in the garden.

I ponder the words of Psalm 90 from today’s Liturgy of the Hours, "Our life is over like a sigh - our span is seventy years-they pass swiftly and they are gone." "Make us know the shortness of life that we may gain wisdom of heart."

Yes, life is short — I don’t have many years left. Who knows how many? It has been a good life. God has blessed me, has touched people through me. I have a loving extended family. I have the support of many people.

As I sit here I receive an emergency call that a cousin died suddenly last night. We just don’t know the day or the hour. I am reminded to just put my life-my whole being in God’s hands. I picture myself in a posture of openness-arms out-like I am scooping something up. I imagine that I am met by Jesus who opens his arms to me. He embraces me first, comforts me. I just let him hold me.

I pray for the grace of being close to God - or maybe better, recognizing the closeness of God, the presence of God. Today God is with me. That is all I have. That is all I desire. What tomorrow will bring, I don’t know. I have allowed the unknown specter of pain to cause me to worry. That is an unknown. I just place myself in God’s loving hands today. Today God’s love is all around me - within me. That is all that I need.

When I saw the doctor he said that all I had was a fractured rib. Praise God!

October, 2000