April Come She Will

I was in my flat awaiting the return of my two sisters and mother from hospital. They had gone to receive the medical results of a lump in my older sister, George’s, neck. My mom flew down that day with the feeling that she had to be there.

Minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into darkness. They had still not returned. Quite suddenly, something in me changed. I knew that it wasn’t a sore throat.

On the 28^th of May 2024, my sister was diagnosed with lymphoma – a highly aggressive cancer of the lymphatic system. We were shell-shocked.

After first feeling the lump in April, George couldn’t bring herself to pray away the fact that it might be cancer. She felt it inauthentic to ask God to take away that possibility. She could only pray for the grace to handle whatever was coming. It was distressful for her not to be able to face the scariest outcome with prayer. But our parents continually reminded her that many people were interceding for healing.

The night of her diagnosis, George opened her Bible to John 9:1-3:

‘As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”’

This verse gave her acceptance and direction of what was to come. George felt challenged not to ask, “Why me?” but rather “What are you trying to teach me, God?” To not ask “Why me?” because then you have to ask, “Why not him… why not her?”

George celebrated her 28^th birthday with a chemotherapy drip in her arm. I arrived at the hospital with my dad and a cake, meeting my mom there. We cut the cake with the rest of the cancer ward.

Quite unexpectedly, one of the other patients broke out into song with a rendition of happy birthday that no one else was familiar with. But we followed our brave leader. It reminded me of the US Marines neck-deep in cold mud in the middle of the night, singing.

Before we had to leave, I prayed for George, and the ward was still. One of the women thanked me afterwards with a poignant expression on her face. It occurred to me that many people have never heard about ideas like healing, hope, or victory. It occurred to me that many people are hopeless.

My younger sister, Katherine, told me that when George first heard that her hair would fall out, she said, “I can think of worse things.”

George finished her last round of chemo on the 23^rd of August, and as I write this, she is facing at least two weeks of radiation. She describes her cancer journey as a period of gratitude and victory.

George was grateful that she detected the lump early, that we are blessed with private health care and top-quality professionals, and that she received conclusive results and wasn’t forced to wait.

This year, George and I have been living together with Katherine in the flat below us, and our parents have been able to spend a lot of (too much!) time with us in Cape Town. We routinely had Bible studies together on the Psalms and Proverbs. This gave us all the peace and wisdom to get through those days.

Cancer is a lonely journey because most people haven’t had it, and even those who have, likely had different experiences.

One of our cousins, Grace, who is a two-time cancer survivor, flew out from America to spend two weeks with us. She was a champion. She was understanding and empathetic of George to a degree that I have never seen. We were grateful for family and truth.

We were grateful for community. There were many prayer groups and bible studies that prayed for her and the family without ceasing. Everyone played a specific and invaluable role, no matter how small. The body of Christ was full.

We felt this fullness from the miracles that happened during the process. To name one, George was able to change her medical aid scheme after her diagnosis!

She learnt that community was not a brick-and-mortar church, but it was rather family, colleagues, and friends coming over to pray and share meals.

She has learnt that our expectations of people must be appropriate. God, after all, doesn’t expect too much of us. Some people were there for her, and others were not.

She appreciated people who were honest with their capacity to help her. People who said, “I can do this, but not this.”

George said that cancer is infantilizing. She had a recurring image that she was a baby being swaddled by the heavenly father. She knew that God had allowed the cancer, but she also knew that He knows how it feels. “He has been here, and He will protect me against the enemy and the schemes of man.”

In God’s arms, George felt like she was in a forcefield. She was secure. She knew that God wouldn’t allow her to endure more than she could bear. She had a great acceptance that God is sovereign and eternal.

It became clear to her how precious life is, and how fragile, finite, and unpredictable it is.

George aimed to glorify God through this process. She was charged with the responsibility to make God’s name famous. She wasn’t exactly sure how to do this, but I can say that she achieved her aim.

She said that it is dangerous to enjoy pain. We have agency and the responsibility to extract the good from pain. With God’s Holy Spirit, something beautiful can come out of suffering.

Cancer was a refining period for George. It made her priorities absolutely clear. The way that she loves and interacts with people has changed. Her perspective on life has changed. She has been blessed with eternal perspective. This was maybe her greatest blessing.

When faced with a decision, she now tries to ask, “How does this fit into His plan?... Is this God’s will or my own?” She tries to trust rather than control.

George felt that life had been a play until she was diagnosed with cancer. Right then, she had been pulled backstage, and the director was shouting at her: “This is real!” … “What have I been doing this whole time?”

There is a good chance that everyone will directly or indirectly encounter cancer in their lives. George said that the best way to handle someone with cancer is to not look at them with ‘cancer eyes’ and pity them from afar. We must look at them through God’s eyes and love them up close.

We must rather lean in too much than too little. We must ask the uncomfortable questions… “What is it like to lose your hair? Are you feeling alone?” George felt seen and acknowledged by honest questions. We must strive to have hearts like Jesus had for the sick.

Of course we can ask why George got cancer. But we can also ask why she was able to get treated so effectively, while others wait in queues. Why did she have a treatable cancer, while others get given no chance to live? Why did she have loving family around her, while others have never heard of hope?

George knows now more than ever that He is a loving and good God. He is a victorious God. She thought that she could never get through those long days of suffering. But now that she’s won, now that she’s beaten cancer, she has courage that any future trial will be easier because He has conquered death. We must not fear. We must be encouraged!

We are not able to get through these trials alone. Jesus carried George through, as He carried the cross to Golgotha. Jesus allowed her to feel what she felt. He is not scared of those emotions. She poured them out at His feet, just like Mary did with the expensive perfume.

God is not scared of emotion. He made us that way. He knows how we feel. God comforted George through the dark and broken moments. Through the times of mental weakness. Through the times when she felt revolting in hospital. Through the times when she thought that a headache would kill her. God comforted her. God swaddled her. God loved her. God didn’t look at George through cancer eyes.

He still sees her as beautiful as she has always been, as beautiful as He created her to be.

Here’s to you George. You suffered with dignity. You suffered with honour. You brought glory to God. You made His name famous. We love you.

Thank you, Father.