Heroine: Annie

It was time for prayer requests. Annie raised her hand. When the teacher acknowledged her, Annie placed a hand on the calf of her right leg. “There’s a lump. I’ll be going in for a biopsy. Please pray it’s benign.”

I was about twelve at the time—Annie, 13. For me, it was just a lump. What did benign mean? Malignant? I’d never heard the terms. I’d never known a monster like cancer existed.

We later learned it was malignant and she’d be having surgery. A simple procedure to remove a lump about the size of a quarter.

But she was back in the hospital to remove another lump, and then another.

Apparently, hers was the type of tumor that spread when it came into contact with air.

I had the opportunity to visit Annie one day with leaders of our youth group. We traveled to the hospital and up to her room where we found her sister painting Annie’s toenails.

She was determined. “The doctors and nurses will see how pretty my toes are and know there’s nothing wrong.”

Her leg, to her knee, had to be amputated. Later we learned they had to take the leg to her hip.

As time progressed, so did the cancer. She was taken to another state where specialists might be able to help.

Next thing we heard, they were taking chunks from her back. This cancer was bit by bit chomping away at Annie, leaving little but her effervescent love for God.

At a youth event a couple years after her first biopsy, we put a call into her across the country from church. Hearing her voice, so upbeat and encouraging, stunned me. I’d have thought her to be afraid and angry. But instead, she worried about us. She told us she wasn’t scared. She believed God had it under control, and we could be comforted to know that she knew she was in good hands.

It wasn’t too much longer before we got the news. She’d left us for her home in heaven. She was ready. She wanted to go. She was unafraid and promised we’d see her again … when we have our turn to enter our eternal home and be with Jesus.

I’ll never forget her positive outlook. Her determination and grace. She was a year older than I, and she fought a battle I struggled with not long ago when my pastor faced it.

Thinking about this teenage girl who stared down a vicious murderer, and won by not allowing it to steal her joy, makes me think about the words of Paul, when he called his trials (and mine) light afflictions.

 

(Note: Names in my heroes' series have been changed 

to protect their [and their family] security and privacy of my heroes.)

Weaving words for the heart and soul,

Karlene A. Jacobsen
Freelance Writer
southpawscribbler@gmail.com