A young mother with terminal cancer talks about Jesus and dying

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by Name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters I will be with you;
and through the rivers they shall not overwhelm you.  Isaiah 41 :1,2

This week we have been made acutely aware again, of the brevity of life.  Our very good friend Gail,our age, has recently been diagnosed with cancer and after having to undergo and endure treatments, he has been diagnosed with further areas of cancer invasion and is terribly ill. 

This is Nia.

And then there is Nia who turns ten  in June who has Leukemia and after a recent relapse is back in Oxford Children's Hospital on aggressive chemo and other treatments.  Our dear friend is in America, geographically so far away - but we were able to visit cute Nia on Friday during a day-out to Oxford.

Jesus wept at Lazarus' grave - ponder the moving scene.  We would dearly love to be faithful in earnest prayer, with our Saviour's tears, for our friend, Gail and  for Nia and for their families. Having nursed our son Michael to the end of his young life, the ravages of cancer are all too familiar to us.  How easy it is to get caught up in the events of our lives and lose touch with the pangs of the pain and the concerns and the suspense of the suffering and those around them.

So, with these reasons in mind, we listened to a video talk by Rachel at a Women's event  hosted by Westside Church at the River Rock Show Theatre in Richmond, BC, Canada on March 4, 2009.


Here is the link to the young mother telling her story of dying with cancer.
Rachel  took the  opportunity to share her hope in Jesus Christ, as a terminal cancer patient.   What began as a small talk to her church women’s group became an event attended by over 600 women and was an experience that left many with a desire to discover more about Rachel’s journey and faith and Jesus.

In addition to the audio link, we also include the bulk of a blog entry/letter by Rachel, written with exceptional honesty about her own experience of dying  Our motivation for both the link and the letter is certainly not to pander to a macabre curiosity about death, but to grow in being sensitive and full of love to those who are dying, to increase in genuine sympathy and be a lot more prepared for our own deaths.  May we all move closer to being more skilled at being tender and  thoughtful and wise and informed friends to those who are going through deep waters.

We trust you will read this blog in that spirit and that, like Rachel, you too will not die alone, but have Jesus Christ your Good Shepherd right there with you when your own time has come to pass through the waters and the rivers and the valley of the shadow of death.  You will find 4 steps in Rachel's video talk which points to how to be ready to die.

Rachel wrote as follows on April 20th, 2009 and died in Jesus early July 2009.

Dying is hard




I’m not sure what I thought it would be like but I think I hoped it would be easier than this. But, admittedly, I’m not that tough.




First of all, I’ve never done it before and there’s no one around who’s done it before to ask how to do it well. You have to prioritize and plan your days, weeks, months, without knowing how much time you actually have. You have to find the balance between complaining so that you can get relief and not complaining so that you don’t annoy all the nice people who are trying to help you. All this, I am learning, I am not that good at.




I went to bed the other night feeling ok but woke up an hour later with searing pain in my head. If it didn’t sound so odd, I’d say that I can feel the cancer growing. My face went more numb and I had crazy pain in my jaw and head. The cancer has spread to my shoulders too so those ache often as well. I took some pain medication and it’s subsided somewhat but was then wide awake and couldn’t stop thinking about how this is all going to go down. Will it be fast? Slow? More painful than it is now? I ask but there are, of course, no answers.




The last couple of weeks have been a bit more rough. More bad days. Fewer good days. I’ve had some more radiation on my other hip and my sternum where the cancer has spread and was causing discomfort. I usually get a little “bounce” a few days after the radiation when the nausea and fatigue from the treatment have worn off. Today was one of those days - kind of.
Dying is hard. And now I better understand some of the things people struggle with as they near death.




I remember my grandmother who, at the end of her life could not move, see or hear very well and wondered what Jesus was waiting for - why wouldn’t he take her home now? I understand how she felt. I remember my grandfather, who died just last year, as he patiently endured our entreaties to eat, our constant asking of “How are you feeling?” or our efforts to make him more comfortable. I understand how he felt. And then there are the moments where the kids ask, “Mom, how come you got cancer?” Those questions, of course, are the hardest.




Although I do very little these days, the one thing I do is pray more. I’ve never been a great person of prayer, to my shame. But when I’m lying awake at night or trying not to throw up or just alone in bed - I pray. I pray because it is the only useful thing I can do. And, that said, it is a very good investment of the time I do have. I pray for Neil. A lot. How grateful I am for him and for strength to endure what is being asked of him. I pray for Quinn and Kate - while I still can. And I pray for the many people that God brings to my mind in the midst of my darkness.




So all that to say, I’m not very good at this. I am trying though. And when I think of the end, of how hard dying already is, and of how hard it will be for those I love when I’m gone, these are the verses that come to mind:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”
Isaiah 43:1-2

Dying is hard. But not as hard as it could be.