Page 9 of Tethered Hearts

Brie

Was there anything more glorious than the sunrise over the ocean? The sacred time of day when the grey light of dawn gave way to a kaleidoscope of fiery pinks and hues of orange before shards of gold kissed the horizon. Brie inhaled the salt tinged air and paused to bask in the spectacular display of God’s handiwork as a new day dawned. Her curls whipped around her face, and she brushed them aside with one hand as Rocky, her chocolate Labrador, tugged on his lead, half-dragging her across the sand.

“Hold on a minute, boy. Let me enjoy the moment.” She loved the beach at daybreak. With barely another soul in sight, it was an open invitation to step into a place of solitude with her Maker. The fresh air filled her lungs, invigorated her senses and infused her with peace. This was her happy place, her sanctuary, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Brie tossed a tennis ball and Rocky gave chase, splashing in the shallows to retrieve it. She waved a hand in greeting as a jogger passed by. Rocky ran over, dropped the ball at her feet, and shook off his wet coat.

“Good one, boy!” Brie laughed as water droplets ran down her legs. “I’ll have to teach you how to be a gentleman one day.” She tossed the ball again and continued walking, spending time in prayer as the sky continued to change colour. It really was the best way to start the day. Sunrise. A mostly empty beach. And time with her Creator. Some mornings she’d venture into the water for a swim and enjoy being buoyed by the gentle rhythm of the waves. This morning, however, a brisk walk would have to suffice. She had things to do and places to be.

Once home, Brie grabbed the handful of mail she’d forgotten to retrieve from the letterbox the previous day. There was rarely any mail these days. Any bills were usually received via email, which was why she often forgot to check the letterbox until it was bursting. She ought to put aNo Junk Mailsign on there to prevent all the excess waste.

She unlocked the front door and Rocky ran straight for his water bowl in the laundry. Loud slurps soon filled the house. She poured a glass of water for herself and sat at the kitchen counter, flicking through the pile of mail. Several retail catalogues and a local newspaper went straight into the recycling pile. There was a generic letter from the local council with their monthly update on what they’d been spending ratepayers’ money on. A real-estate brochure – ugh, straight to the recycling. She didn’t need to see Brett’s face. And … her fingers paused on top of the return address stamped in the left-hand corner of a cream-coloured envelope. Her stomach sank as memories swept over her, picked her up and dumped her right back in the doctor’s office four years ago.

“There’s a lump.”She would never forget those words, nor the feelings they elicited as shock rendered her speechless. Denial and disbelief that someone her age could be diagnosed with breast cancer had turned into reluctant acceptance and survival mode as she endured surgery to remove the lump, then months and months of radiation and chemotherapy. Her hair had fallen out in strands, and she’d become well acquainted with the toilet bowl due to endless bouts of nausea. Her arms had resembled pincushions as she was poked and prodded, and there had been blood test after blood test to monitor her progress. She’d become familiar with terms such as neutrophils and platelets and liver function. And she’d learned the best way to wear a scarf or beanie to conceal her bald patches.

Staring her mortality in the face had been the most defining moment of her life, making her question her choices and what she was actually doing with her time on earth. Who was she living for? Herself? Her parents? Or God?

Her fingers traced over the scar beneath the collar of her shirt; it was a daily, tangible reminder of everything God had done to bring her this far on her journey. All her tests until now had delivered hard evidence that she was in remission. But it still didn’t stop the fear clawing its way up her throat at the sight of the reminder letter that she was due another scan and blood test.What if it’s back?She didn’t want to go down the path of negativity and doubt. She didn’t want to experience those dark days of uncertainty again. But the niggling question remained. Regardless of the outcome, would she trust God unequivocally? Would she trust that He held her future in His hands? She hoped so. It was all well and good to trust when things were going great. But she knew real faith was forged in the trials. In those moments of utter despair and loneliness when a threadbare strand of hope was all she could cling to. God had been her solid rock in the middle of her tempest. And He’d proven His faithfulness, time and again, never forsaking her. She needed to cling to His promises and trust that He never changed, and that no matter what her future looked like, His love for her remained steadfast.

Brie stuck the reminder letter on the fridge with a magnet. Making the phone call would be a task for another day. As much as she ought to ring the clinic, one more day of ignorance wouldn’t hurt. For now, she needed to shower and get ready for her day.

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