Finding Faith In the Unexpected

"I thought I was close to the Lord before, but now I'm sitting on His lap and hugging Him around the neck"  -Pat Williams

                                                                                                              

The phone was ringing when I woke up on that Friday morning in early February of 2011.  It was my brother-in-law, Tracy.  When I answered, I could tell immediately in his voice that something was wrong.  He asked if I had spoken to my dad.  I hadn’t.  As we hung up, Tracy said, “You need to call him, he’s talking to all the kids today.”  I didn’t ask him what was wrong because I didn’t want to hear it from anyone other than my dad, but there are 19 kids in my family, and there would only be one reason he was calling all of us on the same day—bad news.  For the next hour I called every number I had for dad, but couldn’t get ahold of him.  The more time that went by, the more anxious and upset I got over whatever was coming.  I sat on my couch and tried to calm down.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity my phone rang—it was dad.  I could already feel my voice starting to shake as I answered the phone, “Hey dad, what’s going on?”  His voice was calm, reassuring.  “Karyn, I went in for a physical a few weeks ago, and I need to fill you in on what happened…” he started.  My heart sank.  He began to explain the diagnosis he had been given, and the treatment he was about to embark on which included chemotherapy twice a week. After hearing the word “chemo”, I think I sort of stopped listening.  I heard him say something about a cancer called multiple myeloma that is in all of his bones except his skull, and then something about no cure, no surgery but our goal is to get it in remission, and we’ve got a 70-75% chance of doing that.  Yeah, okay…remission….whatever, I’ll process that later.  For now, all I knew was that my dad had cancer.

I did my best to stay strong for him, but it was too late, the tears were already flowing.  We both cried on the phone together until finally dad said, “Karyn, God’s going to use this.  I’m absolutely convinced of that.”  I have to be honest, in that moment my only thought was, “Let Him use someone else!”  But I did my best to console my dad, and he did his best to comfort me over the phone.  In a matter of just a few short minutes, my entire world had changed, and my heart was shattered.

I hung up the phone and sat back down on my couch, stunned.  I was trying to breathe normally, but it felt like the walls were caving in.  Finally, I let loose and screamed through my empty house.  “WHY?  GOD WHY?”  Not him, not my dad.  Not the man I leaned on and needed so much in my life.  Not the rock of our family, the man who has taught me everything I know about how to live my life, how to work hard, how to treat people, how to love the Lord.  Now I have to sit here helpless and watch him die?  NO!  It absolutely couldn’t be happening.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next.  I made a phone call to my husband.  I’m not the dramatic type, but today was different.  “Come home!” I cried into the phone.  “You have to come home right now.”  He dropped everything and ran.  Next I called my good friend and ever-faithful prayer warrior, Kim Boyce.   I could barely speak, but I managed to get out, “It's my dad--cancer.”  That was all I remember saying before Kim just started praying.

Because of Dad’s position with the Orlando Magic, we couldn’t talk to anyone else about it until the story broke through the NBA.  I was scheduled to shoot a music video a few days later, and I remember looking at my red, puffy eyes wondering how I was going to get through the shoot when I was such a mess.  This video had been over a year and a half in the making, and I thought, “Great timing on finding this out.”  Do I reschedule it?  No…that’s the last thing my dad would want.  Everyone cancelling our lives and descending on our house in Orlando like he’s just been given a week to live.  I went through with my shoot and then re-routed myself to Orlando to spend a few days with my dad and my family before this news broke publicly.

During that visit home, I walked downstairs one night and my dad was sitting up in bed.  No one else was in there, so I curled up next to him and we just sat in silence for a while.  It’s one of the things I have always appreciated about our relationship—our ability to just be together, not have to say anything.  Finally my dad started talking.  He told me about how he was feeling, and how the shock of it all was finally setting in for him.  Then he told me about his conversations with the Lord ever since his diagnosis.  “I’ve asked God repeatedly, ‘Lord why did you do this to me?  I don’t understand.  I’ve been serving You, writing about You, speaking for You’,” he said.  “The only answer I’ve gotten back seems to be, ‘Urgency, urgency.  You haven’t been urgent enough.  I needed to get your attention.  I’m going to pull you through this, but you’ve got to tell people with a sense of urgency that they’ve got to move’.”

I went and got my computer and played him a song off of my new record called Only You.  When it was finished playing, through tears dad said, “That’s it Karyn, that’s the message the world needs to hear.  Nothing else will matter in the end except whether or not we knew the Lord.”  That night will go down as one of the most special times we’ve ever spent together, and that song became even more meaningful to me than it already was.

A few days later, my dad held a press conference with the Orlando media to announce the diagnosis. He was already very weak from his chemo treatments, but mustered all the energy he could as the media gathered.  Those types of press conferences are usually somber, quiet events, but not my dad’s cancer announcement.  Everyone there was encouraged by him—he practically preached!  He answered questions for as long as they needed, and his doctor was there to explain the condition from a medical standpoint.  Since my dad is the king of slogans, we all knew that this experience would be no different.  Sure enough, before they wrapped up, dad stood up and unbuttoned his sport coat to reveal his newest slogan—THE MISSION IS REMISSION.  Everyone fell out.  I guess if you have to have cancer, you should at least have fun with it.

I have gotten asked a lot over the last few months how I’m doing through all of this.  The truth is—I was in shock for about a month after learning this news.  I mean complete shock.  I woke up every morning thinking I'd had a bad dream.  I couldn't get through a day without melting into tears.  My body was going through the motions of my life, but I wasn’t really there.  One of my friends equated it to wading through Jell-O, and I’d say that’s a pretty accurate description for how I felt.  This is a man who has taken care of his body better than anyone I've ever known.  So the phrase, “my dad has cancer” simply wasn’t registering.  But it was true, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

After a few weeks had gone by since learning about my dad's cancer, I sat on my bed one night and asked my husband, "Am I ever going to feel normal again?"  It was that night that I realized I had a choice to make.  I could either wallow in this news forever (which my dad would have personally flown to Nashville and smacked me for!) or I could choose to lay it down and trust the Lord with dad's life.  It took a while, but I finally chose the latter.  I had to stand alongside my dad and fight, that was really the only choice I had.  Feeling sad and sorry for him wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Being mad at God wasn't going to do anything either.  I realized that while I may never understand why my dad has to go through this, the one thing I can't do is question it.  God knew this was going to happen and He has a purpose for it.  I've been reminded through all of this that God never promised us life would be easy.  He never said we wouldn't experience pain or or sadness.  But He did promise that He'd be right by our side through it all.

My heart hurts every day at the thought of what my dad is going through.  Of course it does, I'm human.  But I have reached the place where I can finally say, "It is well" and I'm okay with the outcome.   This experience has strengthened my faith to a new place.  It was during his press conference that dad said, "I think at a moment like this you either pull from God and express anger, or you cling."  Well, the Williams family is clinging--big time, and the only thing that really matters to us is that God is glorified through this "adventure".

Thanks dad, for once again setting a godly example for us all.  We don't get to control what life throws at us--but we do get to choose how we handle it.  You're handing this beautifully and you've made me once again proud to be your daughter.  Keep fighting!!

My dad's treatments will continue into the month of June at which point his doctors can test to see how well his body is responding.  We're praying for remission!

Until next time…

Dare to Live!

-Karyn

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