He couldn't look at her while he was talking, and was grateful for the fact that he was driving and didn't have to take his gaze off the road.
"I think that's perfectly normal, and I wouldn't feel bad about it. I don't necessarily think that God is surprised by that attitude. After all, He knows everything."
His mother gave a gentle smile, and the irony was not lost on him. He wasn't supposed to be upset. He knew that God would not be surprised at his attitude, because God knew everything, and that wasn't hard to accept. But somehow, when he tried to tell himself that God knew everything, and meant that He knew what would be best for him and his mom, whether the test results were positive or negative, it was a little bit harder to handle.
"Yeah. Sometimes, even though I think of myself as a really logical person, logic is not working on me right now."
"I don't think that faith is logical. Faith is actually allowing things that do not seem logical to be okay."
His mom always had such wisdom.
"See? I need you. I need you to share your wisdom with me, because I'm not ready to do life without it." Even though he was old enough and most people would think he was crazy. But... why would he go through life without his mother's wisdom, when he could gothrough it with it, and do a much better job of living the way he wanted to, in a way that he wouldn't regret?
He pulled into the medical center, a Christmas carol softly playing on the radio, the green wreath Terry had on the door of her clinic proclaiming the season, although the conversation with his mom made him feel less like Christmas than he had in a long time.
And he had been so happy. Why not stay happy? Why not just trust that God knew what was best? Simply trust. Wasn't that what the old hymn said? That to trust and obey was the way to be happy in Jesus?
It sounded so simple, and yet sometimes it was so hard to do.
Still, he didn't want the shadow of gloom and doom hanging over him when his mother seemed so peaceful and serene.
What was the point in being a Christian, if he chose to worry and fret rather than simply trust?
"I'm sorry that I wiped the smile off your face," his mother said, the line between her brows showing her concern as she laid her hand on his forearm, which had not moved from the steering wheel.
"No. It's not your fault, it's mine. You have the right attitude. God knows best, and I just need to leave this in His hands, and choose to be content. Isn't that what Paul said?"
His mother nodded, and he listened as the words to the verse rolled off her tongue, her voice so familiar and beloved, as she quoted the words that were etched in his heart. "I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."
The days of him being able to hear his mother quote Bible verses were numbered.
Of course they were. They'd been numbered since he had been born, but only God knew the number, and what God did was perfect and right. He believed that to the bottom of his soul, and now, this was the kind of challenge that he had in order to prove that what he believed was actually the way he lived. Because if he believed that God was in control, and that He worked everything out for his good and God's glory, then there was nothing to worry about.
"All right, let's go see what the doctor has to say," he said, as he gave his mother a smile.
She looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, as though trying to judge whether he was just putting on a facade, or whether it was sincere to the depths of his soul.
She seemed satisfied with what she saw, because then she returned his smile.
"Let's go."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"It’s cancer," Terry said after she stepped into the room, clutching the clipboard to her chest, her eyes going from her mother to Roland again.
Marjorie sat on the examination table, with Roland standing beside her.
Roland wished he would have taken a seat, because his knees felt weak. He had just determined that he was not going to fret or worry, but the C-word had a tendency to knock the legs out from under anyone.
"What's the good news then?" Marjorie asked, her voice sounding serene and elegant, as always.
Terry looked harried, because the waiting room had been full of people, and she had more work to do than she could keep up with. She shook her head.
"Leukemia. It's a treatable kind, but I want more tests to confirm before I lay out a treatment plan. I've already been in contact with some of the best doctors in the country on this, and I'm determined that we will spare no expense?—"
Marjorie put a hand up. "Do I get a say in this?"
"Of course, but you want to have the best chances of surviving this, right?"
