Hi, God. It’s Me, Ann.

Are you there? Hello? Hellooooo? Of course, I really do know He’s around — somewhere; however, my faith has been shaken to the core the past week. As a result, this post is especially difficult to write. Since I started this blog a year ago, I’ve shared many views on life as I journeyed through a nine-month battle with cancer. I have written a lot about faith, optimism, affirmative prayer, living for today and not worrying about the future, and counting one’s blessings. Just last month, I wrote about looking for the silver lining when life knocks you down – using God’s study guide of faith to pass life’s exams.  However, right now, this “glass half full” gal is seeing the glass half empty.

You see, last week I was told that my cancer has returned and spread to both lungs – an “incurable” condition, according to the doctor. Translation: I’m terminal. The doctor says the average life expectancy for someone in my condition is 18 months. Bummer. I imagine I know what you’re feeling right now as you read these words, especially if you know me. Stunned . . . shocked . . . sick. That’s how I felt. I didn’t expect that news either, and I deeply apologize to the many of you who are finding out about my condition this way. Telling people has been extremely difficult. After the recent losses of my father and brother, I feel like I’ve been kicked while I’m down. How much is one person supposed to take? I feel deflated and defeated.

I truly – deep, deep down truly – thought I had beaten cancer. I thought I was going to be a beacon, the shining success story that could inspire others who might face the type of rare, aggressive cancer I had – correction, have. I didn’t want that for egotistical reasons, but rather so that something good might come of a bad situation. I thought that was the purpose behind my first battle – that God was giving me the gift of words to start this blog and provide encouragement to others, people who were not just experiencing cancer, but also any difficult situation.

The first time I found out I had cancer, I thought, “Why not me? What makes me so special that something that horrible couldn’t happen?” This time, however, I am indulging in the classic “Why me?” question. I thought I had done everything right last time. I maintained my faith – in fact, it got stronger – and I shared it with others. I tried to face my challenge with poise and optimism. So I feel slightly abandoned by God right now. Yes, I know, saying that may be perceived as blasphemous by some. I rather feel like Pinto, Tom Hulce’s character in the classic movie “Animal House,” when his date for the toga party passes out in his bedroom and an angel appears on one shoulder and a devil on the other, resulting in a tug of war to decide what he should do next. My mini angel and devil certainly aren’t uttering the dialogue they had with Pinto, but they’re there nonetheless – arguing acceptance and anger, patience and indignation, faith and doubt.

I’ve always felt like I had a personal relationship with God. My prayers have often taken the form of a conversation. And just like you experience a range of emotions with a close friend, including frustration, so have I expressed, and am expressing, that emotion with Him as well. I’m not going to feel too bad about that, either, for even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, asked God to let death pass Him by and later cried out on the Cross, “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

I can’t begin to fathom why this is happening. As I have said in other posts, I don’t believe God causes bad things. I’m disappointed He didn’t step in to stop this from occurring, though. Once I adjust to this news, I will, hopefully, be like Job, who accepted numerous sorrows without losing faith. Right now, however, I’m more like David, when he entered the cave – afraid and lamenting.

Share YOUR strength — please.

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