Remember that scene from Les Miserables when Fantine gets her head shaved?  That’s the crazy scene I have in my imagination when I picture myself getting my head shaved in the next day or two.  It sounds dramatic, I know.  Honestly, it feels dramatic.  The last time I had hair shorter than my chin was when I was two years old.  Alas, these hairs are falling….and the Lord knows every single one.

I love the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism. It asks, “What is your only comfort in life and death?”  And the answer is worth memorizing…

That I am not my own,
but belong with body and soul,
both in life and in death,
to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins
with his precious blood,
and has set me free
from all the power of the devil.
He also preserves me in such a way
that without the will of my heavenly Father
not a hair can fall from my head;
indeed, all things must work together
for my salvation.
Therefore, by his Holy Spirit
he also assures me
of eternal life
and makes me heartily willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

This journey is one of two very real experiences occurring simultaneously, sorrow and gratitude.  Sorrow for all the things that are not as they should be.  Tangible reminders that we live in a fallen world.  Sorrow that one cell in my body went very wrong and out of control.  Sorrow that I will have more losses and scars along the way.  And, today, sadness that my hair is falling out.

And then there’s gratitude.  These ninjas are rocking and rolling in this body of mine.  They are killing fast growing cells.  Every good hair that falls from my head represents a nasty cancer cell slain.  I confess it is certainly a love/hate relationship with my ninjas, but I am thankful for them.  Hair does regrow.  Grateful.  Far more deeply, I am humbly grateful that these losses and scars endured are only achieving for me a greater fellowship with the Man of Sorrows who endured ultimate loss to gain me.

My cancer has unleashed a torrent of love from friends and family, and I can’t even begin to tell you how it ministers to my soul. Letters, meals, fun playdates for my kids, sleepovers for the boys, emails with specific ways you are praying, gifts…the love has poured in ways I couldn’t fathom.  In fact, I never thought there would be a day when a dozen friends offering to shave my head would lead me to say, “I feel the love.”

But boy do I feel the love.

With gratitude,
Anne