It was an exciting weekend, January 1998. I had been looking forward to that trip to Los Angeles for months.

Since my husband, Joe, and I moved to the Phoenix, Arizona area several years ago, I rarely went back to LA. Joe's career in film production keeps him there a great deal of the time and he flies home on weekends. After eighteen years of riots, fires, floods and earthquakes - - I decided to opt for a calmer, less volatile locale.

The reason for this particular trip was to attend the wedding of one of my very dearest friends, Gayle. I remember how beautiful she looked as she walked down the aisle as one of my bride's maids. We had been though just about everything together over the years - troubles and happiness.

When Gayle and I met, we were both divorced, working moms.

We provided a loving support system for each other. I don't know how I would have made it through without her . . . and I know the feeling is mutual.

Then, in 1987, I met and married a wonderful man. Gayle was happy for me, but we both knew our relationship would change, even though we would always be life-long friends.

One day, several years later, this relationship took another horrifying and unexpected turn. Gayle was diagnosed with breast cancer.

This couldn't be true. Cancer only happened to other people.

However, that day, it was not just someone else. It was my best friend and she was facing the battle of her life.

At St. Joseph Medical Center in Burbank, I waited as Gayle underwent surgery. The bad news was it had spread. Only days later, Gayle and I sat together listening as an oncology technician explained how the chemotherapy would ravage her body in a radical attempt to heal it. And, yes, Gayle would lose her beautiful hair.

She turned to me, "I'm going to be bald." We hugged and cried.

After the appointment, we decided to go to the mall -- as women do, even in the worst of times. She wanted to buy a big, floppy hat. We laughed and giggled, trying desperately to cover our fear. She tried on one hat after the other.

I wondered if she knew I was breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn't me? Did she suspect I wanted to run away from all of this -- because I could? I begged God for His help, but honestly, I did not expect much of anything.

At that time, my faith was faltering, at best. I felt alone as I frantically searched for some way to help my friend face the chemotherapy, radiation and rebuilding of her body and her life. I felt so small and unprepared for this task. "God where are you?"

Well, as you have gathered, from reading the beginning of this story, Gayle is a six year cancer survivor. And I was preparing to attend her wedding the very next day.

For Joe and me, life was good. I had just completed the manuscript of my first novel for Bethany House Publishers - Web of Intrigue. Joe was working on the crew of a very successful NBC television show and we had just moved into our first brand new home.

From our hotel window, I could see the studio location below. The January weather in LA was, as usual, rainy and dreary. But my spirits were so high. I was excited to be there again. Even with all the things I really disliked about this town, it does have an energy that just cannot be captured anywhere else - especially if you are part of the film community.

Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I had noticed a lump on his neck. Our family doctor felt it was a swollen gland, but wanted him to see a specialist. I had finally urged him to make the appointment. That morning, Joe had an appointment to see an ENT (ear, nose & throat) specialist.

I was busily trying on the beautiful dress I had just purchased at Nordstrom's for the wedding, when the phone rang. Joe was supposed to call to let me know what time to meet him for dinner on location.

I answered it with a happy, "Hi, honey!" But it wasn't Joe. I was startled to hear an unexpected voice. It was Dr. Line, the ENT. Years before, he had treated me for a nagging sinus problem and had remained as one of my doctors. There had been no question that when Joe needed to make this appointment, he would see Dr. Line. We both knew he was the best.

But there was something wrong. Dr. Line's familiar voice sounded strange. Not the casual, friendly, "Hello," I was used to hearing. Without ceremony, he said words that I could not grasp.

"Misty, Joe has cancer. And it's a bad one." The unbelievable words ripped at my heart.

"Nooooo!" I screamed. "You're not calling me. You must be calling someone else. Please be calling someone else."

I was on the floor, on my knees, grabbing at furniture. Screaming and crying into the phone. "No. Please tell me it's not true. Please! Oh, God, it can't be true. My Joe doesn't have cancer. He doesn't!" The pain I felt was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

But nothing I said was going to change the facts. And, the next day, while cameras took beautiful pictures at Gayle's wedding, a sterile cat scan crawled across Joe's body recording ugly, frightening images of the enemy which threatened to take his life.

Again, St. Joseph Hospital was thrust into my life. The tests confirmed our worst fears. It was tongue and neck cancer. Stage four. A 50-50 chance was all he had.

I was so angry with God. How could he allow this to happen to Joe? Joe was such a good and decent man. And he loved God.

While this was a devastating surprise to us, it was no surprise to our God. For the first time in my life, in the midst of this horror, I truly 'felt' God's presence. He was there with us. I had no doubt. Throughout the coming months, as He opened my eyes, I began to see, with total clarity. 'Coincidence' had played no part in what was happening to Joe and to me. God's hand was no longer invisible --- I could trace it clearly.

Why was I in Los Angeles to be with Joe on this 'very weekend'? I rarely went there. It had been months since my last visit.
Why did we already have a relationship with one of the top ENT doctors in the country -- whose specialty was EXACTLY the cancer Joe had?

My experience with Gayle had, in many ways, given me some small idea of what was ahead. We had LA Christian friends who came to be with us at the hotel that very night. We prayed together.

"I will never leave you."

Why was Joe so at peace and completely sure he would beat this?

Why had I just completed a novel, only days earlier, that I would not possibly have been able to work on during the coming months?

This was no coincidence. God's hand was moving mightily. My God knew what was coming and He had provided exactly what we needed - putting it all in place years, months and days in advance.
He was in complete control.

I admit my fears were not only for my husband. I feared I would not be able to be the care-giver I knew he was going to need in the coming months. Was I going to crumble? I not only begged for Joe's life, but for the strength I could only have if God gave it to me.

As the months passed, I realized I was doing all the things I thought would be impossible for me. I learned to give the medical attention and IV feedings. God kept me alert and able. It was a true miracle. There were so many times when things were so overwhelming I felt I wanted to run. To hide. I didn't want to be going through this - but there was no choice but to go on. Even though I was angry at Him, God never let me down. Never turned from me. When I needed extra strength, it was there. When I felt I could not go on . . . I did. All through His strength. My anger began to subside as I gave up trying to control the storm surrounding us. He was faithful. His promises were true. God was in control.

On April 11, 1999 we celebrated our twelveth wedding anniversary. Only weeks after this anniversary, God bestowed the most wonderful gift on us. We received word that my beloved husband and best friend had valiantly come through months of chemo and radiation to defeat cancer!

All Glory and Thanks be to our God! He stood with us. Held us when we cried and lifted us when we thought we could not go on. Our Lord continues to be our strength and our hope as we go into each new day.