On July 24, 2012, I received the message from my mother that no missionary across the globe from her homeland wants to receive: “Call me as soon as you get this.” I immediately felt like I’d been hit in the gut. I called my mother and felt my nausea be confirmed by the tone of her voice. I listened, speechless, as she told me that Kelli, my best friend of 13 years, had taken a turn for the worse. Kelli had been fighting an intense battle against cancer for nearly a year and a half. They had found the cancer in her body when she was only a few months pregnant with her now 1-year-old son. When my mother called, it was to tell me that Kelli was in the hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, and that she was not responsive. There are very few words to say in situations such as this. I thanked her for letting me know, asked her to keep me posted, hung up the phone, walked out the front door of our house in Ireland, and fell apart.
I walked down to the end of the street, praying out loud, and, quite literally, throwing a temper tantrum with God. I yelled and stomped my feet as a disgusting mixture of tears and snot poured down my face. I was angry. I didn’t understand why He would let this happen to a young 24-year-old mother; why he would take her away from me, her son, her family. Once all of my energy was spent and my tears had run dry, I was able to sit still in the middle of that country road, and listen for His voice. And what I heard was: “Fight”. He wanted me to fight for her. I had been by Kelli’s side throughout so much of this process. I had been there the moment that she found out she was pregnant, talked to her the day that they concluded that the disease inside her body was cancer, been in the hospital as soon as possible when she was induced to have her baby early so that they could begin treatment, and sat in a room with her as she took her first dose of chemo. All throughout her battle, I had watched her suffer. I had seen how the chemo had made her so sick that she could hardly move. I had prayed a million times for God to take the pain away- to heal her – but I had never truly fought. God was calling me up to this battle with Him. And I accepted the challenge. All that day, I cried and prayed; believing for a miracle. My teammates joined me in this battle. I even asked people on Facebook to fight for her alongside me. I felt empowered. I felt strong. I knew that I was doing exactly what God wanted me to do.
Until July 26th at around 8 o’clock p.m. (Ireland time) when I received a message. A message from Kelli’s sister-in-law that read: “Kelli passed away. She is with Jesus now. I’m sorry. She loved you.”’
WHAT?!?!
Why had He told me to fight? If He was going to take her home anyway, why hadn’t He done it days before? What was the point?
Even with all of these legitimate questions, God placed an overwhelming peace inside of me. I didn’t have to have all of the answers. He had taught me in 3 day’s time how to fight passionately and with all that I have. He revealed to me the intensity that I have inside and His desire for me to find that intensity in praying for all of His people. And even though I felt like I had lost the battle, He showed me that the battle had already been won. Although it wasn’t in the way that I would have preferred, Kelli was no longer in pain. She was home and happy and in the arms of our incredible and loving Father.
And, just like that, I had been initiated into the club. The club that nobody wants to be in. The “Cancer Club”. Or rather: the “People Who Have Lost Someone They Love to Cancer” club. I officially know the pain of watching someone suffer due to a typically incurable disease. I know what it’s like to ache because you can’t do anything to make them better. I know how it feels to say a final goodbye, if even from afar. To tell that person, for the last time, how much you love them and will always love them. I now have the ability to relate and minister to people who are somewhere in this grieving process. God has broken my heart so that He can continue breaking it for those in need. He gave me His peace so that I can speak peace into the lives of the hurting, angry, and lonely people who have experienced a significant loss like mine.
So, while it is a club I would never have volunteered to join… And while I would choose still having my best friend by my side over just about anything else… Here I am, muddling through my own healing process, and realizing that I’m a lifetime member of the club. I’ll never stop missing her. There will never be an important event in my life, or in the life of her son, that I won’t wish she was there for. But this is the way it is, and I am 100% confident that God has great plans. I’m honored to be usable in a unique way for His kingdom. I look forward to the opportunities that God has appointed for me to cry with His people, to hold them, to agree with them that death doesn’t make sense, and speak a renewed joy into their lives through Him. This is the benefit of being a member of the club; the ability to initiate new members. To show them that through even the most horrible situations, God is still in control. He will bring light to His people, even the darkest moments, and in the most personal and intimate ways.
The day after Kelli died, my very wise and wonderful friend, Emily Tuttle, wrote me a message I’ll never forget. God spoke His love to me through her in such a beautiful way. Here a small part of what she wrote:
“I believe that this month was a gift from God to you. A love letter to you. This didn’t surprise God. He knew that you would be in Galway when Kelli died, and He put you in a place that He knew you would love and would bring you peace for when this was going to happen. This month is like a letter to you that He signed, “P.S. I Love You.” It’s what Kelli is whispering to you, and what God is saying, too. You were a good friend to her, she knew you loved her, and God honors your friendship.”
So now, it’s my turn to step up, sign my membership card, and embrace my new responsibility for the sake of His Kingdom.
