I knew this day was coming. I even published such knowledge back in 2018 when I wrote this post about facing my fear of the dermatologist. So, if I knew, why is this day so hard? Knowing and experiencing are two different realities.

Four days ago the dermatologist called with the biopsy report results and wisely, kindly, comfortingly started the conversation with, “You are going to be fine,” which he repeated again maybe two or three times throughout the brief life-altering conversation that included the unexpected news that I had early melanoma. In the moment, I was fine. Accepting. Calm. I even told him on the phone, “I am a redhead and knew this day was coming. Today is that day.” And for two whole hours my only emotion was total serenity.

But then as I entered the grocery store, I was swept over by other emotions and the tsunami hasn’t subsided in the four days following.

I’m going to be fine. The doctor said. So, why don’t I feel fine?

Telling my kids was the hardest part. Once I finally broke the news yesterday, my thirteen year old asked, “Are you scared?”

“Yep,” I said as yet another tear escaped.

I’m going to be fine. So why am I scared?

With how things worked out, my seventeen year old daughter found out before the other three kids. The timing just seemed right. It was a few hours after finding out myself. That first evening we watched a movie together along with my husband and fifteen year old son. We chose the movie I had wanted. A silly teen romance none of us had seen but sounded perfect in the moment. It ended up being anything but perfect and yet totally timely. Total and complete unexpected plot twist – the mom has cancer and dies from it. The daughter has to learn to let go and move on. Ouch.

I’m not dying from cancer. I simply have early melanoma. Skin cancer. The doctor said I’m going to be fine. “You’ll have a big scar, but you’re going to be fine.” So why am I scared?

This morning I went to Nordstrom Rack to make a return. Some really cute bandages that were way overpriced were one of the many tantalizing items in the checkout gauntlet. I grabbed two different fun designs. Perfect. I’ll have happy bandages over my incision to help me be happy through this whole adventure. I’ll make the best of the situation. I felt optimistic.

Then I went across the street and parked at Von Maur. I needed to go in and pick up my alterations – the beautiful blue dress I had recently purchased for my son’s upcoming summer wedding. I burst into tears. The dress I felt so beautiful in a couple weeks ago is sleeveless. My “big scar,” soon to be a permanent part of my decor, will be center stage on my left upper arm. Not so beautiful.

Why am I scared? I’m going to be fine.

Because cancer isn’t fine. This world isn’t fine. We are under a curse. Under the dominion of Satan. We are not fine! And when a doctor finally tells you what you know you will one day hear, you cannot escape the very not fineness of this whole cursed world. We are dying, y’all. We know that intuitively. But sometimes we are reminded very clearly. And having a doctor inform you that you have melanoma is an inescapable reminder that you are indeed dying. Maybe not today. But one day. One day all that you love here on earth will be torn away from you. Those you love most will be left to mourn and try to move on. This is the reality that you come up against when your doctor tells you, “You’re going to be fine.”

No, I’m not. I’m not going to be fine. I’m going to be dead. And that big scar will remind me how dead I will one day be. I’m scared. And that’s ok.

Consider Jesus as he agonized in Gethsemane as he faced death. He did not pretend it was nothing to face the curse. The wrath. The wages of sin. (Mark 14:32-36; Romans 6:23).

But he did face it. He did overcome. And he tells me not to be troubled because he has overcome the world (John 14:27; John 16:33).

We’re not going to be fine y’all. We’re not. We’re going to be dead. But the very good news is that today is the day of salvation. Today all of us are given an opportunity to repent of our sins and believe on Jesus as Savior. (II Corinthians 6:2; John 3:16) That’s our only hope in a world full of cancer diagnoses and a host of other trials. Our hope is to set our hope fully on the grace that will be revealed when Jesus returns (I Peter 1:13). Our only hope is to face reality and cling to Christ. Are you clinging to our Lord and Savior who overwhelmingly conquered death? (Hebrews 2:14)