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In early January 2015, nine months after a clean mammogram, I found the lump that would change my life in ways I had never imagined. I became another statistic in the ever-growing hoard of people who live under the dark cloud of cancer. Yet, the disease gave me back the joy of my salvation and returned a song to my heart. Cancer led to an unimaginable journey of faith.

For several years, my once strong faith had been beset by doubts. One by one my three sons had moved away from God, disclaiming a faith they had once embraced. As I watched their lives change, I questioned my own beliefs. I didn't abandon God, but I found it difficult to worship.

I no longer felt adequate to teach a women's Bible study. If I couldn't even keep my own children in church, how could I possibly presume to teach others? I felt hypocritical leading in worship as part of a praise team. You see, I had lost my song. I was going through the motions, but there was no joy.

Every Christian faces a crisis of faith at some point in their walk with God. This was mine. Fifty plus years after surrendering to Christ, after over thirty years in the ministry, I suddenly found myself on the down side of doubt.

Circumstances in our lives conspired to keep my faith weak by taking away my Christian support group. Wayne, my husband, had been a bi-vocational pastor for six years, preaching on weekends and serving as a prison chaplain during the week. He had commitments seven days a week.

Wayne's mother's health began to fail. She could no longer manage her place, but insisted on staying at home. Wayne was the only one of her four children whose health had not been debilitated by Huntington's Disease. Only he and his sister were still alive, but Pam was confined to a wheelchair. Wayne was getting burned out working 24/7, and his Mom needed him. We decided that he needed to resign from the church so that we could go to his mother's at least every other weekend.

At the same time, our youngest son told us that we were going to be grandparents. The pregnant girl was someone he'd only known a short time. He didn't love her and wasn't prepared to marry her. He did plan to be with her and to support and care for his child. We knew we would need to help him as he returned to school to finish his degree, and that we would want to be a part of our grandchild's life. He lived in the same area as Wayne's mother, and so we could see him on the weekends we were at her house.

Ministry to family became our weekend focus. While this was what we needed to do, the result was that I was no longer in constant contact with the women who had been my support group for years. For several years, we attended church on Sunday mornings only because of our travel and family schedule. Because of my work schedule, I could not attend the nighttime Bible studies and prayer meetings offered at our church.

Thus, when I received the shocking diagnosis of cancer, my faith was weak. Despite the tepid faith, I turned to God in this time of crisis. He heard my cry and showed me how he had orchestrated things even while I was living in doubt.

Although I didn't realize it at the time, my journey began with a bout of indigestion. I am a woman with a notoriously strong stomach; nothing upsets it. But as we drove home the weekend after Thanksgiving, I was having problems.

"Wayne," I said, as I rubbed up and down my breastbone with a clinched fist, "I hurt right here. Could I have indigestion?"

This may sound like a silly question, but I had no idea what indigestion felt like. Wayne, though, ate Tums like candy. I knew I was talking to an expert.

"Could be," he said. "What does it feel like?"

"It's a constant burning, and it hurts to swallow."

"Try taking a Tums and see if that helps."

I carried Tums in my purse, for him. I'd never eaten one. I chewed up the chalky substance and swallowed. I leaned back hoping for some relief. I squirmed in my seat. I put the cross strap of my seatbelt behind my back to remove the pressure. Finally, after about thirty minutes, I asked, "Should it have kicked in yet?"

"Probably," came the answer.

It hadn't. In fact, it had gotten worse. When we got home, Wayne had me try a stronger antacid. The pain persisted. When I swallowed spit, I hurt. I put my hand on my chest to try to pinpoint the source of the pain. I poked around trying to see if the pain was confined to my esophagus or if it affected me elsewhere. I pushed so hard on the edge of my right breast that I bruised it. I also thought I felt a very small knot deep in the breast, but it was not the source of the pain.

I tossed and turned all night, afraid to swallow. The next morning, I spoke to a doctor at work. He had me try Maalox; nothing. He then told me to try some Prilosec, but warned that it could take a day or two before it worked. I couldn't wait a day or two. I took a pill, but then called my GP. He fit me in the next morning.

He gave me a prescription for the generic form of Prilosec, but sent me to see a specialist, as I was obviously suffering. While I was there, I told him I thought I felt a hard knot in my breast. He poked around gingerly, not wanting to aggravate my bruise. He told me I had probably created the problem by poking so hard. He reminded me that I had a clear mammogram nine months previously. Despite his reminder, I was sure I felt a small lump. I told Wayne and had him feel. He said he didn't feel anything and sort of shrugged it off.

The new medicine and a diet of bland, soft food helped. The specialist did a series of tests. They showed I had a high level of a bacteria in my stomach, the one that causes ulcers, but that was all. I took an antibiotic and haven't had a problem since.

In the meantime, I was keeping an eye on the bruise. When it cleared, I pressed on the same spot as before. I definitely felt something hard. I called my gynecologist. She didn't fool around when a lump was involved. She made me an appointment for the next afternoon.

The nurse practitioner who examined me felt the hard knot, too. She scheduled a mammogram and ultrasound for the next day, a Friday.

"I'm also going to schedule you to see the breast specialist on Monday," she said. "This is a precautionary measure. She will be able to read the film better than we can and will know if anything further needs to be done. I'll have the technician send both of us copies of the test results."

The x-ray technician who did the mammogram had me show her where I felt the lump. She made a mark on my breast and proceeded to take about ten pictures from various angles. She only got a clear look at the lump in one of those pictures.

"It's really deep," she told me. "That makes it hard to find."

From there, I was sent into another room to have an ultrasound done. The doctor who did the scan had no problem finding the up-to-now elusive tumor. He told me that I needed to see a doctor immediately. I told him I already had an appointment with a breast specialist scheduled for the following Monday.

"Be sure you keep it," he said.

For the first time in a long time, I prayed fervently. I didn't ask God for a non-cancer diagnosis.

"God," I prayed. "I know I've been kind of distant lately, but I never doubted you were real. I need your help. I need you to walk with me through this process. Surround me with your love."