by Donna Poole
Excitement was building; it was almost time for us to go camping in Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains. We had our route mapped out and couldn’t wait to get started. Maybe we’d take the sunset ranger hike again, or the sunrise hayride.
Our good friends, Dan and Gina, suggested a side-trip. “Go to Pipestem first. You’ll love it! It’s in West Virginia.” They gave some quick directions.
“But we don’t go through West Virginia on our way to Cades Cove.” John calculated a minute. “I think if we go there it will take us at least thirteen hours to get to Cades Cove instead of the nine hours it usually takes.”
“Just go. We don’t want to tell you why; it will spoil the surprise. Just trust us.”
The six of us crammed into our station wagon, and we pulled an old utility trailer behind us with our ancient, yellow Coleman tent, playpen for the baby, and half our household goods. We started down our country road and headed for Pipestem State Park, Middle-of-Nowhere West Virginia.
After many weary hours we arrived at Pipestem. We put up the net-sided play pen first and plopped baby Kimmee in it. Our teenagers, Angie, Johnnie, and Danny were experts at helping set up camp. We finished, wiped sweat from our faces, surveyed the flat, grassy site, directly in the sun, and looked at each other. No one wanted to say what we were all thinking. Talk about a hot, boring place! Why had Dan and Gina told us to come here? We wanted to be in Cades Cove, familiar, fun, fantastic views.
We didn’t complain to each other because we trusted our friends. Maybe there was something we hadn’t seen yet. Surely something would make all those long hours of travel worthwhile.
“Can we go explore the rest of the park?” one of the kids asked.
Why not? We started walking and came to a sign that said, “Scenic Overlook.” What “scenic” could there possibly be? We walked a few more feet, gasped, and couldn’t look away. We saw. . . . Never mind. I’m not going to tell you. Go to Pipestem. I don’t want to spoil the surprise. It’s worth all the backroad travel it will take you to get there.
Our backroad ramblings have taken our family some unexpected places in the month of June. We are nowhere we ever planned to be. Testing showed a lung tumor closing my bronchus, severely narrowing the right pulmonary artery and vein, and collapsing one-third of my lung. First, they told me they suspected I had small cell lung cancer. How could I have lung cancer when I’d never smoked? I hadn’t even smoked pot with my friends under the bleachers. Not to say I’d never been under the bleachers; I just hadn’t smoked the offered pot. I know, I know, we Boomers had a lot of growing up to do, and most of us did it pretty well.
The newest biopsy results, with more testing still happening, say “diffuse high grade B cell lymphoma double expressor phenotype.” You can bet that sent my fingers flying to Google! Basically, it’s an aggressive lymphoma and resistant to treatment.
So, here I am, in a place I never wanted to camp. My family helped me set up my tent in this grassy field. The sun beats down; there are no trees, and it’s not our favorite site. I’d rather be at Lake Michigan or at Brown County State Park in Indiana. We’re waiting here in the hot sun, waiting for an appointment at University of Michigan Hospital, waiting to find out what the treatment will be, waiting for their help. But we already have God’s help.
Now we set off to see the rest of the campground. We, my family, friends, and I, expect to find some amazing views, even though we know the hiking will be more strenuous than we’ve ever before experienced. Why do we anticipate awesome scenery ahead? I guess you could say we trust our Tour Guide.
I’m not claiming God will heal me, though I know He could. God always answers prayer, but “no” is an answer too. I do know that no matter how rough the backroad ramblings get I’m not walking them alone. Jesus is with me, and the love and prayers of others will help me hike this tough trail.
This is my walking stick for the journey: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” –Isaiah 41:10
This lymphoma is my Pipestem. I’m not going to say, “Why me?” I’m just going to enjoy every wildflower, every birdsong, every blessing, every token of love along the path.
I know you, my dear readers, have Pipestems of your own. I hope you trust your Tour Guide.
