GOD SENT ME A CRAB by Bobbie Ann Cole

Even before Jesus made himself known to me, I realise He was there for me. I felt Him when I was at my lowest ebb of chemo for breast cancer. The chemo was a bid to keep my breast. I also cut out salt and generally improved my diet. I went in for all sorts of therapies — aromatherapy, reflexology, even hypnotherapy. (I was a New Age Jew.)

I had counselling, I meditated. Every day, I visualized my white cells as seagulls, pecking away at a putrid pile of fish on a beach, my cancer. Two weeks after my first treatment, I had a fever. My pain threshold plummeted. Even a page of a book falling onto a scab on my thumb made me groan. I lay on my bed and visualised my beach. The sun was beating down on my putrid fish but where were my seagulls? There were just a few of them, gliding overhead, with no strength to land. The hospital told me to come in. ‘Your neutrophils are all the way down to 18%,’ the nurse said, after tests. That sounded bad. Even so, I told myself they gave me an isolation room with triple glazing, a hatch to pass my food through and ferocious air conditioning because they were short of beds. Not because I was vulnerable. The nurse stuck a needle in my backside. The door sucked closed behind her. I pulled up the covers and sighed, my spirits in free fall. Closing my eyes, I returned to my seashore. The sun glowed thinly as I sent my sickly gulls up to the cliff to rest. Self-healing would have to go on hold, pending re-enforcements. Out of nowhere, a huge, golden crab came side-stepping. It latched onto my putrid fish and began stuffing itself with great pincers. Tears of relief welled up and rolled down my cheeks as I watched it do the work I couldn’t.

A week later, my white cell count was robust and my tumour had shrunk by half. This crab, I now see, was Jesus, lovingly healing me. Even though I would ultimately lose my breast, even though I would nearly die when reconstructive surgery failed and I bled and bled, even though I would go home as bereft as a woman returning from maternity with no baby, THAT WAS OVER TWENTY YEARS AGO. And I’m still here. Loving my life. It took 10 years for Him to penetrate my stubborn skull and set me to trembling, in a Jerusalem church where, as practicing Jew, I wasn’t supposed to be. I was only there because my Christian friend and travelling companion had graciously accompanied me to synagogue that Friday night; a refusal to return the compliment would have been mean. That Sunday began the process of bringing me back from the place breast cancer that had led me to: • the breakdown of my marriage, • the collapse of my business • and the conviction that I was hideous. That night marked the beginning of a chain of miracles that would lead me to my traveling companion’s Atlantic Canada home, where I would meet and ultimately marry a good man of faith, my Canadian Boaz, her brother.

That was going on 13 years ago.

Bobbie Ann Cole's signature short course EATING THE SCROLL is running again, starting 11th June. If you find it hard to get writing or if you need to discern God's will for your writing, this spirit-filled Bible-based course could be for you. Find out more at http://yummyscroll.com. The latest deadline to sign up is 9th June.