Mass was just starting with the usual song and prayer as I made my way down the main aisle of St. Ann’s Catholic Church. Most weeks I attend the 9:30 a.m. service, but this Sunday I made it just in time for the last Mass at 11:30 a.m.
Despite being late, I made my way toward the front. I always felt closer to God when I sat near the altar. This day, I really needed that. I slid in the aisle seat and kneeled in prayer. My eyes fixed on the altar, I didn’t utter a word.
I bowed my head with a heavy heart and prayed. God, be with me. Just let me make it through. Help me to endure this….
I had gone through a range of emotions all week after my radiologist informed me during my annual checkup that I might have breast cancer for the second time. He ordered a biopsy. “With your history, we cannot waste any time,” he said.
I still couldn’t believe it. My first bout with cancer was in 2000. I had a partial mastectomy and was declared cancer-free. After 13 years of successful checkups, mammograms and self-exams, this was the last thing I expected.
I was 63 years old. I had just moved back to Delaware after living in Florida for 12 years. I wanted to be closer to my daughters and I didn’t want to miss watching my granddaughters grow into young ladies. And now this? It wasn’t fair.
I could barely follow the sermon I was so focused on my own problems. Why me? Can I make it through another bad diagnosis? Has the cancer already spread?
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped, and turned around to see a well-dressed couple. I didn’t know them at all. Had I dropped something on the ground?
“I don’t usually do this,” the man said, “but the Lord told me to tell you, you will be healed.”
What? Had he really said what I thought he said? There was no way he could’ve known about my fears. I hadn’t uttered my prayers aloud–
“I might have breast cancer,” I blurted out. The couple exchanged glances and then, without a word, they each laid a hand atop mine. Their touch was warm and gentle. I felt a comfort. As if a burden was lifted from me. A burden of anger and fear.
I wasn’t going to worry any longer. I had to leave everything in God’s hands. Thanks to this couple, I believed I could do that. I had been healed–healed of my anxiety. I turned back around to listen to the rest of the sermon.
After Mass, I found the couple standing in the vestibule and introduced myself.
“My name is Joe,” the man said. “This is my wife, Carol.”
“Is this your regular Mass?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Joe replied. “We’re from New Jersey. We traveled to this church yesterday for a funeral. Afterward, we decided to stay an extra day and come to Sunday Mass.”
It was all making sense. There was a reason I had delayed and attended the last Mass. I was there just so I could meet this special couple.
Over the next few weeks I told everyone about my encounter. They all listened with skepticism, but I was certain the message was truly from God. I could feel it. Whatever the results of my test, my health was in God’s hands.
Thankfully I learned my biopsy was negative. But I had already gotten the good news from two traveling angels.
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