An Answered Prayer

The last week had been unreal. As my friend drove me to the airport, I replayed all of the events in my mind.
My mother had been admitted to the hospital in my hometown the week before, and after several days of endless waiting and numerous phone calls from the multitude of family members present, I was able to talk to mother. Aunt Patsy had already told me it was cancer. I knew it must be bad when my dad and sister couldn’t tell me.
“Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I can…I’ll get my lesson plans done and get on the road.”
“Oh no you won’t.” Her voice was weak, and a little shaky, but her determination still echoed in her voice. “You have a final this week, don’t you?”
She was right, of course. I had begun work on my Master’s Degree that semester, and my final was on Tuesday night.
“I’ll be ok, honey, you take your test, then come. I mean it.” She started to cry. Even with this frightening diagnosis in front of her, she was still more worried about me. She made me promise to wait until my final was over.
My final behind me, I was now on the way to the airport. Melany tried to comfort me as we made the drive to San Antonio. The last few days had completely changed my world. I prayed that God would show me how to handle this. I didn’t feel equipped. Melany gave me a hug, we both cried a little, and then I headed toward my gate.
People moved with purpose, but I felt like I was in a daze, seeing people, but silently trying to get my mind around mom having cancer. My dad’s brother, Gary, had died from cancer only three years earlier and our family had yet to get our balance after the blow. As I sat down in my seat, I prayed to God.
“I don’t know what to do, Lord.”
“How do we do this? Show me how.”
I really didn’t want to cry in front of all of these people, so I pulled out my book and pretended to read while we waited for others to board. Unfortunately, I had the middle seat. A gentleman with a briefcase sat on my right, and a few minutes later a young woman, maybe 35, sat to my left. After take off I tried again to read my book, but as the beverage cart came by, I realized I kept rereading the same paragraph, and gave up. I ordered a coke, closed my eyes, and said another prayer for guidance. The woman next to me smiled as she handed me my peanuts.
“Where are you headed? she asked. “Are you taking this flight all the way to Chicago?”
“No” I answered. “I’m changing planes at DFW. I’m going to visit family. Are you going to Chicago?” I hoped conversation might help relieve the heaviness in my chest.
“Yes, I’m going to a conference. I’ve never been to Chicago before.”
“Me either.” I love to travel. The last time I had been on a plane was to go out to California. Mom and I had gone to visit my sister and her family the summer before. We had a great time. I had just put the pictures from Yosemite in my photo album the week before. It seemed so long ago as I sat on a plane now.
“I got some information about restaurants and museums. I’m hoping to see a little between sessions. My friend and I are staying over an extra day to enjoy the town.” She smiled and showed me her notes. “ I do have work to do to, though.”
“What is your conference about?” I asked.
Newest methods and procedures, and working with families. I’m an oncology nurse in San Antonio.”
I was so taken aback, that I thought I might fall out of my seat. I must have looked at her in surprise, because she immediately looked concerned.
“Are you all right? “ she leaned over and touched my arm.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I answered. “An oncology nurse. Do you work with all kinds of cancer?”
“Mostly. The pediatrics are usually in a different area, so I mostly get adults.”
“Remember I told you that I am going to visit family?
She nodded.
“I’m going to see my mom. She is in the hospital. She was diagnosed three days ago with cancer. It has already metastasized. They said it is really bad.” She grabbed my hand.
She immediately sat up. “What do you want to know?” she said.
For the remainder of the flight, I asked her questions and she answered. She was generous, sharing stories of hope and helping me know what questions to ask later. Most importantly, I remember her advice that attitude and faith have great bearing on recovery rates. And I knew that day that God had sent this lovely woman to me as a comfort and hope in an uncertain time.



At the time of my mother’s diagnosis, the doctors gave her about six months to live. Three years later, my mother watched me walk down the aisle at my wedding. Many days were a struggle for her, but in that time her faith and positive attitude were an inspiration to others as well. She was able to meet my husband, see my niece grow up a little, be with my sister and father, and spend time with my grandparents and her five sisters and two brothers. She also affected the nurses and doctors where she received her treatments. She made friends with nurses at the hospital and the treatment center, and they knew her by name. And you could see it in the eyes of her nurses that early morning in March 1998 when she died. Her positive attitude and faith had affected them, and they cried with us.