Most of us know people who have or have cancer. In a second, we can think of what we lost too quickly. It is a mystery that this disease will take their lives and change ours very quickly. One moment they were here, the next they were gone. Life seems very short. Certainly not fair.
I know many people who have cancer – most of them passed a few years after their diagnosis. But it’s not Emma.
I met Emma in January and apparently we had already spoken for a few weeks. She helped me book a dance practice room at the library. Every week, behind the desk, loyal, kind and stable.
On one random Thursday evening, she messaged me on IG. I didn’t realize it was Emma in the library. Soon, half a dozen audio messages and texts, she began to share stories, ask questions about her faith and mental health, and open up. I don’t know what to do yet, but I clicked it straight away. I felt like she would know her for the rest of my life, but only known her for a few weeks.
Over the next few months, we exchanged dozens of voice memos and text. By May, we had finally met in person. Three hours later I sat facing each other at the coffee shop and knew I had new friends.
When friendship finds you
Emma was different. Her life sparkled a light that you could only understand if you met her. She had no answers about faith, but she loved Jesus deeply. You could say the way she lived. The way she heard. The way she appeared. How she asked. The way she thought about and pursued knowledge and holiness.
She was funny in that dry, awake, Giggle-like way. It took a special kind of person to understand her humor, but once I did it I realized she was hilarious.
She was kind and always had others first. Her work, her proofreading business, through her words. Few people showed the work ethic she had, and that was clear to everyone. When I met her, I wanted to hire her for all the positions you could use.
She is the kind you can send texts for prayers on your darkest day, and I will often do. When I updated her about my life, my publication journey, and my fears of health, she never failed to remind me of God’s goodness and plans. She reminded me that he would serve my purpose. She lived according to example.
Then one day it was my turn to become the light for her.
When sadness hits without warning
Emma texted me on July 3rd that she had been diagnosed with stage 3 adenocarcinoma. It was my husband and I was my wedding anniversary so I didn’t get a message late. I was fooled. Emma never smoked, and neither of them had anyone in his family. The doctor was scratching his head at where it came from and how it developed so quickly.
By Friday, July 5th, I learned that the diagnosis had progressed to stage 4. I made her stupid joke about having my first accidentally expired library book. I told her I was praying, and I was.
It had been about a week and I hadn’t heard from her. I thought she was just overwhelmed, exhausted and busy. She had been on radiation and chemotherapy, but I knew it was especially 24 years old and there was a lot of treatment.
She was strong, walking sick like it was nothing, always hopeful and constantly pushing against her. And she was gone.
Emma’s cancer got worse on the evening of July 14th. The family traveled from Iowa and spent their final moments with her. July 15th was a more intense hit than one could explain.
I hadn’t known Emma for a long time. It’s not like many of her friends did it. Their posts make me cry. I wish I had more time with her. But I am very grateful for the time I had.
What Emma taught me about living well
Losing Emma has shaken me. She was only 24 years old. She had so many lives. But she also had this quiet peace. May she praise God forever, for grant and rob.
And now I can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable life is. How quickly things change. Every day is a real gift. How scary is it that someone else I love will get cancer?
What if that’s my husband?
What happens if that’s my mom?
What if it’s my father?
What happens with grandma?
What would I do if that were me?
I was unable to see her after she got sick, but I was able to see her family during the visit time. No matter how many times I call these events a “celebration of life,” something inside me will resolve. I know she’s in a better place. I know she’s painless. I know that living in heaven is better than what we can remind you here. But I like to remember people who are alive. Like them. Before death or illness or illness grabs them.
Their tears were too many for me to handle. I saw them, but it surpassed that. I told them that I knew Emma. We told them we were only friends for about six months. I wanted them to know the profound impact she had on my life. I said I’m sorry. But that was all I could call before my tears.
When we approached her body, I knew it didn’t look like her. I looked straight away and glanced. My eyes found a poem she wrote that year. Read some of it like this: “To release and empty is not a loss, and is not true, but I will leave my hands open to your filling.”
You know, Emma was not in her body in the cas. And I can still imagine her smile, how she made her feel like she saw people, how she totally loved, but she’s not here anymore. Illness was not the end of her story, as she abandoned her life primarily entirely in her health. This release. This emptiness was the path to fulfillment. Life, love, eternal. A little earlier than we would expect from such a young friend.
Emma’s story is not fair yet. I struggle with thinking about the sadness she and her family are experiencing. But it remembered something important to me.
It lives as if it is important
We can’t choose how long we are here, but we can choose how we love while we are there. While we have it is a gentle reminder of living life perfectly well. No matter how difficult life is, it’s a blessing, a gift, we’re still here.
And while this earth is not our eternal home, we are all just passing through and we look forward to its place. Death is not the end, so we don’t have to fear death. Rather, seeing and receiving Christ is just the beginning. John 11:25-26 stated, “Jesus said to her, “I am resurrection and life; Those who believe in me will live even if they die.
Today I want to know Emma in your life. Please tell me about them. Remember and reflect your heart. And if they’re still here, tell them how much they mean to you. But then I want you to think about this:
– How are you?
– What is your life in line with Christ?
– What’s the problem in the end? Who do you need to forgive, thank and reach out to today?
-If it was the last day of today, would you live like a problem of life?
Before she passed away, Emma texted me this: “I am very grateful for your support. I thought about you several times while in the hospital. I immediately thought to myself, my chronic health issues have not been compared to cancer. But even more, Emma has shown wisdom, humility and obedience beyond her years. “I am grateful for the prayer for the correct diagnosis and humility that will embrace what God has for me, even if so many things I thought I could.”
Near the end of her days, Emma never lost that humility. Her friends have told me over and over again that she is not scared. She knew that the Lord was nearby. I cannot say for certain that I will demonstrate such faithful courage. I hope that, but I hope and hope that I don’t have to experience what she did.
Emma’s kindness changed me. It reminds us all that the way we live can change someone else’s life. She also thinks it’s okay to ask harsh questions about faith and life, especially when the answers to those questions seem unanswered.
I don’t know why Emma had to be diagnosed with cancer. I don’t know why she had to die so young. My mind is still struggling to understand. But I know she lived with open hands, as we all should.
“Anyone who saves a life will lose it, but anyone who loses his life for me will find it” (Matthew 16:25, ESV).
Friends, choose a way to live differently today.
Send a text. Please forgive others. Start the journal. I’ll make a reservation. Pray for prayers. Pursuing your dreams.
After that, don’t waste your time. The live performance has been changed. It will be changed. And change the lives of others. For good things. For better. Jesus’ hope is not just for the afterlife, so that’s for the present. He gives meaning to both life and loss, and we walk along that path together.
Agape, Amber
Photo Credit: ©GetTyimages/Katarzynabialasiewicz
Amber Ginter is the author who turned to teachers who love Jesus, her husband Ben and granola. Amber’s growth was searching for faith and mental health resources, but found nothing. Today, she not only read your Bible and prays more, but also offers hope to young Christians suffering from mental illness. Because you can love Jesus and still suffer from anxiety. Download her best faith and mental health resources for free and help you navigate books, podcasts, videos and influencers from a faith lens perspective. Visit her website at amberginter.com.
