Several years ago I had my first mammogram. Definitely not a comfortable procedure. And it got more uncomfortable when the nurse called and told me that they thought it would be good for me to come back for a second one in six months. There was an area that was a bit unusual, but not so worrisome. They just wanted to do a second one to be sure that it was all normal for me. So, while that caused a bit of worry, it didn’t seem so awful. At least not until the doctor decided to call me and try to reassure me. I listened to him, and all that I could think was “If it’s so ‘routine’ – if it’s really nothing to worry about, why is he calling?” In a way, his trying to be reassuring backfired. Fortunately, at the 6 month redo, it was decided that all was well. No problems.

I don’t like to wait for these kind of results. Someone close to me is having a lump looked at. I squirm. One side of me says calmly: “It’s probably nothing. There’s not reason to expect this to be bad news. It’s good that this is being looked at. And besides, what good does it do to worry? When the results are in, then we’ll know.” The other side is jumping up and down, coming up with every bad diagnosis on the planet. I;m trying really hard to let calm have the upper hand.

What to do? How to cope with the waiting? Do I believe in prayer? I’m certainly letting God know that this is important to me. I’m certainly asking for this to be OK.

And it comes to me a bit more clearly. Believe. Pray. Ask others to pray with you. Admit the anxiety (it’s there anyway) . I’m back to “I believe! Lord, help me in my unbelief!”

As I write this – as I admit that my faith and my patience are far from perfect, a small voice comes to me. From across the centuries I hear Julian of Norwich telling me the truth: “All shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.”