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The Great Joy of This Moment

Women in Ministry conducted the following interview which unveils the candid feelings of three women in ministry who have overcome breast cancer.

Becky Brumbalow and her husband Roger have served in ministry for 31 years. Becky has held many positions of ministry, but her passion is for leading the women of the church. Since June 1, 2003, her husband has served as superintendent of the Georgia District of the Assemblies of God, and Becky has served as the director of Women’s Ministries for that district. She has overcome breast cancer three times.

Bevie Jo Marquardt has served as the Northern New England Women’s Ministries director for 4 years. Her husband Dennis is the superintendent of that district. While she spends much of her time organizing retreats and conventions, she also has a burden to encourage pastors’ wives.

Judy Rachels, a credentialed minister, is the director of Women’s Ministries for the Southern California District of the Assemblies of God. She leads retreats and conferences, sponsors an annual missions project, and assists missionaries in providing for their household goods. She is married to Ray Rachels, who is superintendent of that district.

WIM: Please share with our readers your experience with breast cancer.

Brumbalow:My journey with cancer began in August 2000. I felt great, went for my regular checkup, and out of nowhere it sideswiped me. The other two times, I found the tumor and knew without a doubt the cancer had returned.

I’d like to tell you I was strong and courageous and bravely fought this, but the cancer took me by surprise. The first time, I took it in stride, had the surgery and hardly looked back. The second time, 20 months later, it got more of my attention. I spent more time in fasting and prayer. I had served the Lord since I was nine, so I knew to trust Him. Then when cancer returned again 15 months later, it threw me for a loop.

But I can tell you each time has brought me closer to the Lord. I am not the same person I was in August 2000. I am much stronger; my faith is deeper. My grasp is more certain about who I am and what I know. I know God’s goodness is eternal. I am so grateful for the journey He has taken me on.

Marquardt: I was lying down reading a book, scratched under my arm and found the lump, although I’d had a mammogram 3 months earlier. I went to the doctor immediately. They don’t waste any time when there’s a lump. I went in for a mammogram; the same day they did a sonogram and biopsy.

I was leading a pastors’ wives retreat and called my husband to see if he had gotten any report from the doctor. The doctor would not give Dennis the results, but Dennis kept asking if it was good or bad. I had one more day of the pastors’ wives retreat. I called that night and Dennis told me it was bad. It blows you away when you think “cancer,” but I was positive through it all. I really felt the strength of the ladies around me praying.

Rachels: I was by myself at the office at 5 o’clock in the afternoon when I found out. I’m sitting in the same chair I was sitting in then. My next thought was, “Okay, we can go here,” and, “Now is my chance to live out what I have been teaching all these years.” It was just as clear as that. I didn’t have questions; I didn’t have fear. I didn’t like the news, but I went home and told Ray and we faced it square on. The thought got more intense in the first 48 hours because I had more time to contemplate the question: Is this my last Christmas?

It was a tremendous advantage that my theology was intact when I received the diagnosis. I didn’t worry about sin in my life or whether it was God’s punishment. I knew cancer was a reality, and I knew where God was that day. He was with me and I didn’t have to panic.

The next day at noon, I decided I didn’t want any lunch. I went to Nordstrom’s, and was pushing the hangers away when I heard a live pianist. I listened and said to myself, “No, it can’t be.” And then I said, “Yes, it is.” I stopped and listened as the pianist played, “Draw me close to you; never let me go; I lay it all down.” I thought, God, I’m in a secular store doing a “secular” thing and You come to me by the testimony of somebody who loves You.

That was a serendipitous moment, to know I’m never outside of God’s care. It’s just a little thing, but extremely significant to me. It was so significant that when I had chemotherapy, my daughter got that song on a CD for me. Every time I came home from chemo, my daughter put on the best sheets, got out my very best stemware, put crushed ice and water in it with a fresh lemon, and then tucked me in bed. She’d hit the button to play “Draw Me Close to You” ten times, knowing I’d be asleep by the time it finished playing.

When you get this diagnosis, you think to yourself: I’m a cancer lady. I’m walking through doors like “oncology” I never thought I would go through. I wondered about people who did, and now it’s me. I’m lying underneath these machines in the bowels of hospitals that I didn’t even know existed. Then the next thought is, I’m going to be this bald cancer lady, and I don’t want to go there. I don’t feel sick. That’s all stuff I dealt with. God helped me to deal with it in a healthy way and maintain my balance. I felt carried by the prayers of many people.

WIM: Did you have any foreknowledge of what was coming, or was it just out of the blue?

Rachels: My mother had breast cancer, so I was very diligent in my mammograms. I had one within the previous 7-8 months, and then one day I absolutely saw the lump. My first words to my doctor were, “Well, we know one thing. It has been there less than a year because I get mammograms every year.” But he said it had grown for several years. I said, “But—” and he said, “Lady, we’re not God.” I thought: He’s right. I did the best I could, but I cannot make bad stuff not happen. I can be responsible, and then I can also be responsible when I hear bad news to go on and behave the way I’m supposed to behave.

WIM: What ordinary, routine aspects have suddenly become more meaningful to you?

Rachels: Every day is a present. You wake up and say, “I will have no more bad days.” I haven’t had a bad day since! When it seems the bottom has dropped out, I’ll say, “This is nothing!”

Brumbalow: Ordinary things are special—the smiles of my family, greeting them when they walk in the door. I look at clouds and say, “Lord, are these the clouds that perhaps today You will come back on?” I look at the clock every morning and say, “Thank You, God, for another day.” As I fold laundry, I say, “Thank You, Lord, I am here to fold this.” It’s just so different! I don’t mind picking up and putting away because I came so close to losing it all.

Two years ago this past May they gave me 6 months to live because the cancer had spread to my liver. We were moving that week into our home in Macon. I remember sitting in my living room with boxes stacked all around me. My mother, sisters and friends said, “Please let us unpack them.” I just refused to let them unpack for me for fear that if I let them do so because I was sick, I would not see the need to fight the cancer. I needed to unpack and decorate my home.

One day I began to weep before the Lord, and said, “Lord, I am so tired of battling cancer.” The Holy Spirit said, “Becky, quit battling and start overcoming.” The Scripture came to mind that we are overcomers by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony. I knew for certain the blood had been shed. My part was to change my testimony. I quit saying, “I’m battling cancer,” and I began to say, “I overcome cancer every day.”

Rachels: When you experience cancer, everything is on heightened awareness—the sound of my granddaughter’s voice on the phone, the lily just blooming outside my window, taking a deep breath and not feeling any pain, the privilege of being able to plan something in the future. It may or may not happen, but what’s important is the privilege of writing it on a calendar for months or years from now. You just don’t do that without saying, “Thank God.”

Cancer also deepened my appreciation for the body God created. Chemo is a dastardly poison but God lets the body respond to it. It’s just amazing.

I also have a new freedom to talk about and challenge others about being afraid of anything. I have great difficulty with Christians who allow themselves the luxury of being afraid. Fear is the opposite of faith. Some are afraid to go to the doctor, afraid to travel on a plane, afraid to sit by a person they don’t know, afraid to make it right with the person they feel a rub with. I’m less patient about that now than I was before.

WIM: You are all women active in ministry. Tell us about the “ministry” that has come through suffering.

Marquardt: The other day I saw a baldheaded lady, so I just went up and talked to her. She is having such a hard time, feeling so depressed. So I’m in contact with her. This is so exciting! One of the girls on the worship team at church came up to me and said, “I want to tell you something. I’ve been ministering to this girl at work for ages. She’s off work because of her cancer. She’s been going on and on about this lady who’s been ministering to her, and it’s you!” It’s such a small world.

The Lord is going to make sure His Word gets out through every source He has, and His source is His people. I would never volunteer for this journey. I’m a coward, really, when it comes to pain, but I can tell you that what God has taught me about himself has been worth the journey.

I told my cancer doctor that I have a real voice with ladies in our district in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. I explained to her that I wanted to share with them to not be afraid of chemo because chemo has changed and improved so much. She said, “Bevie Jo, you will save ladies’ lives by doing that.” It took my breath away. I thought: it’s worth it all if I can help save somebody else’s life if they’re willing to go through chemo.

Brumbalow: When I’m in some store shopping, and I see a woman whose scarf is covering her bald head, or I see a lopsided wig, I can go up to her and start a conversation. Experiencing cancer gives you an audience with people. You’ve walked a road many are afraid they’re going to walk. You can speak life and joy by demonstrating that in cancer God is with you. There is not a week, and rarely a day, that I am not e-mailed or called by someone diagnosed with cancer. The opportunity to witness about God’s faithfulness has just gone out the roof.

I talk to women just beginning chemo. I sit beside them and say, “Pull on this,” and have them pull my hair. And I reply, “It does grow back, and it grows back thick.” And they’re so grateful because theirs is falling out with every brush stroke.

Marquardt: My nurse used to call me “Sunshine” or “Chatterbox.” When you go through chemo, you go in every week to have your blood drawn, even if you’re not having chemo. It takes a while for them to get to you, so I’d go around talking to everybody.

WIM: Has there been joy on this journey?

Marquardt: I needed to have a nap every day during chemo because I was tired. I was traveling with Dennis for 2 weeks on a sectional tour. I didn’t know the pastor’s wife very well at one of the churches, so I didn’t ask to come take a nap while the ministers had their meeting. I was lying down comfortably in the back seat of the car, and I was fine. But because you have to drink a lot of water when you go through chemo, I had to get up and go to the bathroom. I didn’t know when I opened the car door that the alarm would go off and everybody would come running out! So then the pastor’s wife said, “Will you please come lay down in our guest room?” That was quite embarrassing!

Brumbalow: I had my wig on at our ministers institute in 2004, because I was just as bald as could be. That evening after the service, I went back to the hotel room and removed my wig. I looked at my face and realized I only had one eyebrow painted on! I turned to my husband, and said, “Babe, why didn’t you tell me I only had one eyebrow?” He said, “Honey, I never noticed.” I thought, Oh, my goodness! I hope no one else noticed!

Marquardt: One night when we were watching a movie, I took my wig off and laid it on the floor because I was too tired to walk upstairs to put it away. When the movie was over Dennis said, “Honey, let’s go upstairs. I want you to look in the mirror.” The glue for a wig is like a roll-on deodorant. When I went upstairs, I realized I had red blotches all over my head. It looked like blood coming to the surface of my scalp but not popping through the outer layer of skin. Dennis was worried, “Do you think we need to take you to the hospital?” I took a washrag and washed it all off. It was just fuzz from the velvet pillows on the couch!

Brumbalow: I live each day with such joy. My experience with cancer brought me back to the great joy of this moment.

Marquardt: You don’t want to waste your time on insignificant things that aren’t going to matter.

Brumbalow: And the things that matter, really—the list shrinks compared to what they were before cancer. The list becomes shorter and people become so much more important.

Marquardt: I don’t think I clean my house as well as I used to. I’m like, who cares? There are more important things to do.

Brumbalow: I enjoy taking the time to sit down to enjoy a conversation over tea with my daughter, holding my grandchildren as they tell me about their day at school, listening to my husband, really listening, at the end of the day. Without interrupting, I listen to his dreams, and say, “I’m going to help you bring that to pass.”

Marquardt: Yes, you really appreciate your husband all the more when he goes through it with you and is so supportive. My husband has always had a desire to go to Israel. I said, “Honey, you’ve always wanted to go. I don’t really have a big desire to go. Let’s just take money out of savings and you go.” Life is short; do what you want to do.

WIM: What do you think the future holds for each of you?

Rachels: A rocking chair (laughter). Hallelujah! When I finish doing what I do at this desk, I will probably lead a more quiet life. I want to still speak at events; I enjoy doing that.

Brumbalow: Great things. I don’t know it all—I don’t need to—but I know there are some things I’ve got to do. I just do every day what I know to do.

It’s like when a prison door has been slammed shut and all the lights turned off, and you’re alone. The only voice that really matters is that sweet, sweet voice of Jesus in your ear as you walk through the journey of getting well. We have prayed for people and God has healed them instantly; but for us, our lives have been a walk-through journey. And then the prison bars swing open wide and the lights are brilliant.

I am content to just keep letting women know there is life after cancer. It doesn’t end there. I have lost many friends to cancer. I’ve lost four friends this year who were diagnosed the same year I was. That’s always a step back. It could be me. Then I remember: Lord, my days and times are in your hands—not my own, not the enemy’s, but Your hands.

Marquardt: I have lots of things to do and grandchildren to love on! I’m a survivor now, so I’m going to keep surviving and doing what God wants me to do.

Brumbalow: I’d like to leave you with a Scripture that has meant so much to me. Psalm 52:8 says: “But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God. I trust in God’s unfailing love forever and ever.” That’s what has gotten me through every day—His unfailing love.

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