The “Plan” and Tata Lum-Pay

By Cecelia Weer

A personal story with a practical application of what it means to be living by faith.

How do I reconcile the abundant life the Lord Jesus promises in John 10:10 with the arrival of a deep personal fear?  How does life go on normally when it suddenly is falling apart?  It was not like a stick of dynamite that suddenly blew up our lives, but it was a subtle quietness that insidiously crept in.  We discovered the cancer early in March.

The idea of actually having cancer was ridiculous.  I’d done the right things for twenty-five years.  For years I told my husband…

“Tom, I’m going to take good care of my body so I never get cancer, and if, on the outside chance that I do, I’ll know it’s not because I was negligent, but because it is part of the “Plan.”  This I said whenever I wanted him to eat healthy like me.  Never did I ever think it would really be a part of God’s plan.

Of course, I knew I would never get cancer… after all I was doing all the right things…   I would consume gigantic salads, tons of blueberries, and colorful vegetables, and salmon. I walked every day and   I made the healthiest smoothies of spinach, apples, flaxseed and almond milk and tried to make my husband eat them… “This will protect you,” I’d beg.

“It looks like slime,” he snickered.  (I wasn’t insulted.  It actually did…but, hey, it was healthy!)

I was proud of the way I took care of myself and I felt the Lord was pleased also.

That was “before.”

Now it is “now.”

Then came a Friday morning in March

“What does this feel like to you?”

The question was innocent enough.  There was nothing to be worried about because, after all, I took care of myself. No time to think about this; I had a Teen Leadership lesson to finish and a Ladies Bible Study to prepare for the following Thursday.  I had shopping and errands to run and jury duty on Monday and Tuesday.  Finally on Wednesday things slowed a little and I decided this needed to be checked. When I called the doctor and told him I had a lump in my breast, he wanted me in the office two hours later.  After the examination he instructed me to get a mammogram the next day and he immediately scheduled a visit with a breast surgeon. Surgeon?  Things were moving too fast.  We went to the surgeon and suddenly I was scheduled for CT scans, MRI, and a biopsy, none of which I ever had before.  I knew the biopsy required a needle insertion into my breast…how ghastly.

The word “breast cancer” terrified me.  I couldn’t even say the term. I desperately needed prayer, but telling people was agony and I felt embarrassed and like such a failure. We didn’t even know for sure it was. It seemed the fastest way to kill a conversation was to mention it.

I told Tom, “I’m going to make up another name for breast cancer so I can deal with it myself, that way, after I asked my friends for prayer, I might pick up the conversation a little.”

Instead of “cancer” I would use the word lump; but “lump” sounded harsh so I pretended it was a French lump and call it “Lumpier,” pronounced “Lum-Pay.”

I was never very good at saying anatomical words so I didn’t’ want to say the word breast…I had seen a bumper sticker that said, “Save the tatas”;  I drew the conclusion.

“Honey,” I announced in the morning, “I’m going to call my breast “Tata Lum-pay.”

Not skipping a beat he replies, “If you get to name the right side, I get to name the left side…how about “Tata Okay?” We lay in bed and roared!

That night I called my daughter.  She had been devastated at the news so now hopefully I could make her laugh a bit.    I told her about Tata Lumpay.

“Mom, it sounds like a pole dancer.”

“Elizabeth, how do you know what pole dancers are named?”

I could hear her eyes rolling over the phone, but she was laughing.

In the early morning hours on biopsy day I awoke early and looked at the clock.  I was 4:13! I recognized that number immediately! “Lord, I know this verse, it’s the Philippians verse; “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheth me!” I felt like it was a loving message straight from His heart to mine! I smiled into the darkness.  All would be well. And it was.  I laid on that table with the doctor invading me with needles and three nurses assisting. But it was anything but ghastly.  Rather, I had the peace of God that passes understanding… During the procedure I thanked the Lord for his message the night before and I prayed through my family and friends and then through the doctors and nurses, I prayed for their salvation and their loved ones and I let them know afterwards.  It seemed like a worship experience. How could this go from ghastly to worship?  It was God’s grace.

Now things moved too slowly. Why did it take so long to get the results of the biopsy?  The diagnosis was scheduled for my daughter’s birthday, April 3.

I knew I again needed the grace of God…  I knew I needed His sufficiency because I certainly was not sufficient for this myself. It was overwhelming and I needed His strength in my weakness    I wrote out verses on two index cards so I had truth in my hand and faith in my heart.

The verses? ”My flesh and my heart faileth but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” ( given to me by son, Brian) and, “He shall not be afraid of evil tidings, his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord. His heart is established, he shall not be afraid.”   Psalms 73:26 and, Psalms 112:7-8

The doctor told us that I had cancer.  It sounded so unreal to me, but when Tom and I talked later, both of us had secretly prepared for this. I read the doctor my verses…just hearing my own voice read the truth out loud helped me.  The doctor and Tom and I set out to make a plan.  A plan. The plan? How in the world could this really be part of God’s loving plan for my life? It was specifically not mine.

Early the next morning I did cry…and I cried and I cried.  I cried for my children, my grandchildren and my sisters and my father.  I cried for my husband. I cried for my friends and the three church families I loved and for all the glorious beauty of this life that I would be missing if I died. I was overwhelmed with such a sense of gratitude for what God had given me in this life and I was terrified to leave it…. Tom just held me tight… and listened. Sobbing, I told him that every memory seemed like a lovely pearl in a beautiful necklace and now the strand was breaking and scattering the pearls everywhere and I couldn’t retrieve them. It was like life was running from me. How could I let go? All my life I’d been terrible at saying goodbye, how could I ever do this?

“Maybe you won’t have to.” He answered, and held me tighter.

God brought me through the testing and diagnosing.  I praise the Lord for this but I had no idea of what was ahead.  Yes, I’d heard stories and even seen the misery that accompanied treatment… but never could I experientially relate to it.

Sixteen days later chemotherapy was to begin.  Just the word chemotherapy sounded incredibly ominous. I knew God would be working through Chemo to save my life, so wouldn’t it be a good idea to make friends with it? I needed to make up a new name to take the sting out of it, like I did with Tata Lumpay.

“Let’s see, what can I do with chemo…chemo…chemono…chemonaLisa! Yes, like the Devinci painting! I will go on biweekly dates with her to save my life!”  As corny as it sounds, these coping mechanisms really do help me. (But, when the dates are over, I will summarily dump her!)

Two chemo treatments and two Neulesta injections into my treatment I was tired, nauseous, dizzy and bald.  Whose body was this that I was living in? It certainly wasn’t mine.

“Well, Cece, if it isn’t yours, whose is it?”

I made up another name. An identity to fit this strange new body. Claudette Stump-Hauser… Claudette for the French theme I had going, and Stump-Hauser because it was delightfully ugly. Tom just rolled his eyes…lovingly, of course!

Eighteen days after my first treatment, my hair started falling out. The doctor told me this would happen but I still wasn’t prepared.  Two days later I asked Tom if he would please shave my head.

“When in the history of our marriage would those words ever come out of my mouth?”

We trudged up the steps.  He shaved. I cried. When he finished, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed my head. I wept. Until I die I will remember his sweet act of love.

The following Sunday I wore my new wig to church. Everyone liked it and I was so pleased. I said, “My real hair was much thinner, and duller, so it’s still me, only better!”

After church we were back in the parsonage and I didn’t feel like going upstairs to take my wig off. So, I plopped it on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, it looked like a small animal. I put on a scarf. ( I didn’t want to be “Baldilla LaCroix”, my new bald identity.)

“When would I ever think I would store my hair on the newel post?” I asked.

He did not reply but instead went over and stroked it.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“I love to run my fingers through your hair!”

The humor helped in the daytime, but it was in the lonely and fearful nighttime hours the waves and billows of fear would wash over me.  Sleep would run away.  I knew that feelings of hopeless desperation often come to us; they lie and try to control us if we permit it.  I knew the Lord gave us a will to choose how to think and respond… and that our lives rise and fall by the way we think.  I knew I had to make the thoughts and meditations of my heart pleasing to God.

I memorized Psalms 143:8 and 42:7-8, they were like a banquet;  “Cause me to hear thy loving kindness in the morning, (in my case, the wee hours) for in thee do I put my trust, Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk for lift up my soul unto thee.”  And, “Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the daytime and in the night His song shall be with me!”  I have his presence with me every moment…morning, daytime, and night…what a strength and joy!

How the Holy Spirit ministered to me. He would bring to my mind hymn lyrics.  He would bring to my mind Scriptures that I had hidden my heart as a child and throughout my life.  I realized with fresh joy the wisdom of my parents to raise me to love the Lord Jesus and teach me about receiving Him as my Savior.  I was so thankful they took me to church and encouraged me to go to Good News Club and Christian Camps and a college where Christ was exalted.  All these places made me memorize Scripture. What a foundation this was. I never realized the enormous wisdom and strength of this discipline until now. I experientially know that faith is my shield and the Word of God is my sword that quenches the fiery darts of the wicked.     Gratitude and joy rolled through me. Knowing the truth and having it echo in my heart made me see what is not visible… faith hope, love and peace from my heavenly Father. I realized it was the natural consequence of Philippians 4:8, “Whatsoever things are true…think on these things.”

      Another joy was remembering what my mother taught me.

“Honey girl,” she said, “misery always comes when we think about ourselves too much, you just think about others and you’ll be much happier!”  Of course she was right. I decided to pray all through my family and extended family and every friend I could think of.  A whole world of people we don’t know and loved ones are beyond us.  They carry heartaches and burdens we can’t even fathom and they all need prayer and gentle touch of God’s grace.

My nighttime fears were transforming into fountains of blessing because of the truth laid in my heart.

Yet, I still cannot do cancer. It is absolutely not me.   I don’t do needles, pain, nausea, vertigo, fatigue, or baldness.  Yet I am doing it,  But it is not me… it is Christ living in me. It is His strength and His sufficiency for my weakness.

It is the tremendous support I receive from my family; My son Brian who sends me verses of hope; my son Kevin who sends me a postcard every day; my Elizabeth who texts and makes me laugh. It is my sisters who keep in touch. It is my friends who text me pictures of beauty and cards of encouragement.  It is my Chelsea Baptist Church family who honor me with gifts and food and cards. How I need them and love them dearly.  It is my patient and strong husband who walks every step with me and honors his vow of loving me not only in health, but in sickness also…and making me laugh about something every day!  All through this time the dear Lord Jesus had been there sustaining me and giving me loved ones to encourage and fortify me. Each is a jewel and a treasure shared from their loving hearts.

My conclusion is that I don’t have to reconcile anything. Circumstances don’t decide whether I have an abundant life because they can change in an instant. Abundance is believing in the Lord Jesus Christ. It is loving Him and letting Him live through me.  It is believing that HE IS and that He is a rewarder of those that diligently seek Him. It is knowing His way is perfect.

Either the Lord will take the cancer out of me, or, He will take me out of the cancer. I surrender to His Plan. It’s all about faith. Faith does not make things easy, it makes them possible.

 

Cecelia Weer, and her husband, Tom, live in Atlantic City, NJ, where Tom has served as the senior pastor  at Chelsea Baptist Church since since 2010.  They have served in pastoral ministry in three churches over the past 35 years in NJ, VA, and FL, first in Annandale, VA 1986-1999 , then in Brooksville, Florida until 2009.   Cecelia is a graduate of Baptist Bible College, and has been a school teacher and pastor’s wife for 35 years. Cecelia  has served as a women’s event speaker and has taught for women’s Bible studies,  Teen Leadership and Kids for Christ. In addition, Cecelia is a writer.  Her first article for Israel My Glory magazine was published in their 2016 March/April Holocaust Memorial issue. Her second article is scheduled for the November/December 2017 issue. Tom and Cecelia have three adult children and seven grandchildren.