The shock of my life came when I was forty-three and I was diagnosed with stage three rectal cancer. I had a good prognosis, yet to be around in the long run I knew I needed to cease all forms of stressful activity, while I endured the impending series of hard-core radiation, surgery, and chemotherapy. Despite the agony of it all, the treatment seemed to be going smoothly; my husband and four sons, ranging from eight to sixteen, were extremely supportive while I assumed an atypical role in our home.

After the arduous season, I was finally ready to pick up life were I had left off. I was not prepared, however, for what I found. In addition to supporting me, my family had grown independent and made many changes that I was not aware of. I discovered that my children were involved in activities that broke my heart. Feelings of failure consumed me. My despair actually surpassed all the pain that I had experienced the previous year. I felt as though all I could do was breathe. I was ashamed of the situation and of my pain. I wondered if anyone else hurt such that even the very act of breathing is a struggle.

In many ways I was rescued by music. God used the gifts and talents He’d given others to minister to me. As I listened to the words and melodies my anxious soul was gently soothed. I went from a place of isolation to understanding that I was not alone. People go to great lengths to hide their weaknesses. We all fear what others will think if the depth of our humanness is exposed. Artists appeal to us by illuminating common emotions that we hide. For example, I was ashamed that my pain was so deep that all I could do was breathe; I didn’t want to share that weakness with anyone. Yet, when I heard the song “Need You Now (How Many Times)” by Plumb, I felt lifted from my pain.