Life is a crazy quilt.
Who would have thought seven years ago this month, I’d be snipping a piece of pink from the fabric of my life.
It was December 2002. The house was decorated for Christmas. The tree shone brightly in the corner of the room, wrapped gifts sprinkled beneath it.
This was one of the few years I was ahead of the game. The only thing left to do was write my Christmas letter. For once, this might be a Martha Stewart holiday — and not an I Love Lucy episode.
But something sheared my perfect Christmas into remnants.
It was just a routine mammogram that I’d squeezed in at the last minute because my insurance deductible was already paid. However, there was nothing routine about the words I heard that day.
“You’ll need to see your doctor right away,” the radiologist said.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Suddenly, my Martha Stewart Christmas turned to gray. And the holiday season didn’t seem so rosy when my surgeon told me, “You have cancer.”
Life came to a standstill.
But at the very moment when my frame of mind was as dark as night, an array of color burst onto the scene.
Bright yellow: “Here are some books on cancer that I thought I’d drop by. I hope they’ll help with your decisions.”
Cherry red: "I’d like to bring over dinner for you. Let me know the best time.”
Soothing green: "I’ll be praying for you . . . and I’ve asked others to join me.”
Friends surrounded me with love and support. It was a “quilting bee” of sorts — women with a common purpose coming together. During a very busy season, friends took the time to bless me when God nudged their hearts.
Kindness. Compassion. Faith. Each one a piece of my healing.
I’ll always remember how their love wrapped me in comfort like a grandma’s quilt, leaving a memory that hasn’t faded with time. A memory that reminds me to be a bright spot of color in someone else’s life, no matter how busy I may be.
When life seems crazy, God can use me — and you — to be part of His beautiful design.