My dear, sweet friend is very sick. As I began to type this, she was in the Critical Care Unit fighting for her life, and my heart, as strong as it wants to be, has felt a bit broken.

Three days ago she called to ask if I could take her to Urgent Care, and after about 45 minutes there, the doctor asked the normal questions one would ask in this situation, then looked at her and said, “You look very pale. I don’t feel comfortable sending you home with some antibiotics. I really think you need to go to the ER. I usually do all I can to avoid sending patients there, but you don’t look well.”

Thank God for that doctor. He is one of the first people I will always feel grateful to for helping save her.

We went to the ER, where everyone who is desperate goes, and “everyone” is certainly what it felt like that day. There were so many very sick people there. So at that point, I wondered if possibly something very horrible was spreading in our community, some awful stomach flu that had spread to my friend as well.

I will shorten the ER experience for all reading this. Ten hours later, a CT scan had diagnosed a mass. They had put her on pain medication and fluids, and said that within the hour she would need emergency surgery. Nearly five hours later, the surgery finished, the surgeon came to me and my other dear friend in the recovery waiting room. He told us the cancer was extensive.

My friend and I had no words. I didn’t even know how to process this. How did this person who seemed healthy, only 40 years old, ran marathons, and who went so far out of her way all the time for me and all her friends, students, and family get this sick? How was this at all possible?

The next day was spent in CCU. They were waiting for her to stabilize so they could perform another procedure.

The good news is that her condition did stabilize. We were able to go in and see her yesterday. She opened her eyes when we talked to her and reached for our hands. I held her hand as my other friend prayed over her. We told her she was a fighter, she was getting stronger, and I hope she took that in and knew it.

On my drive home, the song “Surrounded (Fight My Battles)” by Michael Smith came on. I sat in my driveway and cried as I heard it, but I closed my eyes and decided to sing that song to her. I pictured her in that hospital bed, as the words repeated:

It may look like I’m surrounded
But I’m surrounded by You
It may look like I’m surrounded
But I’m surrounded by You
It may look like I’m surrounded
But I’m surrounded by You
It may look like I’m surrounded
But I’m surrounded by You

This is how I fight my battles
This is how I fight my battles
With each “This is How I fight my battles,” I repeated her name because this is how she will fight this battle.  She will fight this with the almighty doctor, surgeon, and healer at her side. That second procedure is over right now, and the news is good. She is back in ICU with the plan to move to a regular room as the new week begins. And I will keep praying. Incessantly. I will pray to the God I know is bigger than this. He will carry her smoothly through this and every battle that follows. It may look like she’s surrounded, but she is surrounded by Him. This is how she fights this battle.

But Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26

“God thunders wondrously with his voice; he does great things that we cannot comprehend.” Job 37:5