The Number of our Days

There was a lot going on in town today. It was the annual Bluey Day. It’s a day, when in sympathy for those who undergo chemotherapy, and, as a result, lose their hair, people young and old voluntarily shave their heads. In preparation for today, my grandson's 11-year-old friend dyed his hair bright pink a month ago. Both of his grandmas had breast cancer and one died from it.

A couple of weeks ago, he sent me an e-mail, asking if I would like to sponsor him, and I said yes, of course I would. Today when we arrived at the shearing station to cheer him on, he was $1.70 short of having raised $2010. The significance of the amount did not escape us, and I hunted through my change for the $1.70. When his turn came, we watched as the volunteer from the hair salon ploughed a path from his forehead to the nape of his neck with her electric cutter. After his head was shaved, we took pictures of the kids with him. Well done!

Another event today was the annual Relay for Life, a fundraiser that takes place in towns and cities large and small all across the nation. The junior high school track is the site for this 10-hour walk, with teams sporting names such as the Chemo Queens, Gunning for Cancer, and the Rootin’, Tootin’, Shootin’ for Pink Mountain Mamas. On the Memory Board, participants can post photos of those who have died from cancer. The closing ceremony, with more than a thousand luminaries (a white paper bag decorated with the name of someone who has survived or died from cancer; a tea light candle is placed inside the bag) lining the edge of the track is quite moving. The word HOPE is spelled out with luminaries. We walk a silent lap and remember.

How much time and money will it take before cancer is beaten? I don’t know . . . but these events remind me that we are not God . . . and neither is cancer.

It is God who gives us our breath. When we leave this earth, it is not some random accident. Our life is in God’s hands. He knows the number of our days.

Our hope is not in research funding, as needful as that is. It is not in earlier detection, better care, or chemical miracles.

Our hope is our God and our Saviour. Psalm 71:5 says: For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth.

On days like today, this comforts me.