B.C.

Last week, I was taking my anxiety out on the weeds in our yard when Noah poured a fistful of dirt over Aaron's head. Brown tears streaking down Aaron's face, dirt collecting in the corners of his eyes. I didn't even want to look in his mouth. So I carried my now-brown-haired child straight to the bath to be joined by his not-quite-penitent brother.

That's where we were when I got the message. I was sitting on the closed toilet, watching the boys splash water on each other, when I found out my mom has breast cancer.

She'd had a lump before which was benign. The doctor had thought this one was, too. But then he called them in for a surprise meeting, which is really never a good sign from your doctor, no matter how friendly he may be.

Which brings us back to the toilet seat and my dad's message: I was immediately confused. My head knew breast cancer is very common and very curable. They caught hers early, and it does not appear to be aggressive. She should be fine. Fine.

But my body seemed to think differently. Tense, nauseous, shocked. It just heard "cancer" and stopped and sat there. On that word. Wringing it out.

I called my dad to see how they were doing. We were all in shock, and I could tell, but he also sounded... reassuringly normal. I asked to talk to mom, but he said she was teaching.

"Teaching??"

"Yeah. It's Tuesday night."

Josh called Dad a few minutes later to check in, but Dad had to run into a meeting.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I know they're going to be fine -- why I've always known they're going to be fine. We spent the next day on the phone with them, discussing treatment options, but all the while I heard and knew that my parents really believe what they teach. They believe God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all good. Cancer doesn't challenge or change that truth, it just proves the truth's value, its priceless value...its phenomenal value.

A dear friend of mine recently had the opposite diagnosis: a "benign" but life-threatening brain tumor. What should have been harmless wasn't, which meant she faced an all-day surgery with her skull wide open and a terrifying list of risks. But she didn't flinch. Through the shock and tears and pain and turmoil of it all, she has leaned on God and his trustworthiness more than ever before. Not as a crutch, but in his rightful role as her loving God and Savior.

My friend came out of surgery Tuesday in better condition than any of us dared hope. Able to think, talk, and even walk. Her recovery thus far is stunning. And I hope for nothing less for my mom.

In the meantime, I am so grateful that none of us waited for a crisis to figure out what we really believe. To paraphrase Nicole Mullen, we know that we know that we know that we know...that God is good, that it's all part of His plan, and that we can trust Him. Even if it takes my body a little while to get the message.