This week has been a mix of emotions.

First it started with finding a lump in my right breast. After asking my husband to have a feel (didn’t take much coercing) he says ‘actually there really is a lump there Di.’

So I book myself into the doctors.

In the mean time I poke and prod at it throughout the night, making it more sore as time passes.

I planned out how I’d create little A4 folders with notes in them for my friends and family if I ended up having cancer.

I start contemplating life. What if all this striving is all for nothing? I’d never regret the time spent with family and friends but all this push, work and worry. What then?

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Just before we were about to be announced as youth pastors my first husband went missing. I remember the turmoil. The crying out to God and not knowing why this would be happening right here in this pivotal moment of our lives. Why would he allow my husband’s mental health issues to spring to the surface, causing him to lose his identity?

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