My Friends Are Dying

The first cancer friend I made after my diagnosis sent me these words:

“Welcome to the worst club with the best people.”

That statement continues to become more and more true.

I meet lovely, wonderful women.
Moms. Professionals. Humanitarians. Christians.

Beautiful women. Talented women. Women with their hands full of good things and godly work.

Cancer does not seem to care.

As I continue walking the path of cancer survivorship—even on the good days, when things are going fairly well and life feels almost normal—I carry the stories of these women with me.

There have been faithful, extraordinary women—women who loved Jesus—who have died.

I imagine their children calling for them at night.

Why do mine get a reply, while theirs do not?

Those calls echo in my mind. Children growing up without the mothers who would have given anything to remain here with them.

Even on a good day, I carry the weight.

My friends are dying.

The pink ribbons and 5Ks are not enough.

My friends are dying.

It feels as though no one sees.
It feels as though no one cares.

My friends are dying, and my heart is breaking.

Some of us are doing well.
Some of us are deteriorating by the minute.

We all share the same diagnosis:

Cancer.

The stealer of mothers.
The ender of lives.

Silent and swift, it creeps up on unsuspecting, seemingly healthy people—beautiful people.

And in the darkness of the night, I wake tense and afraid.

Lord, come soon.
My friends are dying.

Lord, come soon.
Will my fate mirror theirs?

I try to gather and hoard every little thing I can do to build a wall between cancer and me. I construct it from routines and regimens, foods and supplements, appointments and tests.

But I know the whole thing could topple in a moment.

I know it may not be enough.

Ultimately, it is not my wall that holds me.

It is God.

He will not allow one of us to be taken a minute sooner than He permits. But His sovereignty does not mean that the sparrow never falls.

And still, Lord—

My friends are dying.

I know You love them.
I know You see them.
I know You are weeping.
I know You care.

Because Jesus.

Because You have done something about death.

Death is no longer the final defeat. For those who belong to You, it is not the end of the story. It is only the end of its first part.

I believe that.

But still, Lord, my friends are dying.

And their children still need them.
And we are still afraid.
And I do not know how to carry all of this grief.

Please help us.

Please do something.

Lord, come soon.

What, or who, are you lamenting?