This morning, we gathered at Susan’s house as we do most Friday mornings and as we have been doing for three and a half years. I have written before about this group and what a special place it has in Diane’s and my lives. This morning stands out.

You see, dear Susan’s brain cancer returned with a vengeance this past month. Given an early prognosis in 2013 that she had not long to live, she has managed to defy all of the odds and not only live, but flourish, since then. Her disease has steadily receded, most miraculously; so at times, this group (founded as Team Susan and now frequently referred to as our Little Band of Believers) has often focused our attention elsewhere. Our prayers and conversations early Friday morning are wide-ranging as we’ve lived through tremendous joys and deep grief as well as the regular rhythms of normal life. Susan’s life and life of her family during this period is nothing short of a great testimony to love, faith and resiliency. The sudden recent news that she had begun experiencing regular seizures brought us back to a point we had largely relegated to memory. Now it was thrust right smack back to the front.

Fast forward to a little over a week ago, after a series of MRIs had shown large new growth of the cancer, to Susan undergoing seven hours of brain surgery. Honestly, she did not know if she would actually survive the surgery, but hoped fervently not only for survival but that she would have speech and other motor skills. The amount of prayer and love poured into her from family and friends, including our Little Band, is merely reflective of who Susan is and what her life has become.

Susan, after all, is living and infectious joy. Oh, she’ll admit to huge challenges and dark moments, forcing her to surrender in ways that most people can’t imagine. But, you just need to look at her beautiful smile that lights up her face and an entire room. You need to get one of her hugs where you know it’s not just a thing but a connection between two lives. You need to see how the people that revolve in and around the space near her transmit the love that she exudes and you’ll get a sense of who she is and what her life means.

After all, her life has meaning and it’s not just to get by. Nor is it to just get things done. Nor is it to achieve great things. No. That’s not what her life means. Susan’s life is about showing who Jesus is and there are not many who show that better.

She went into surgery a week ago Wednesday. We prayed over her and with her the day before, engaging in the ritual of anointment, with the oil signifying a bond with God. Before and during the procedure, many were at the hospital and close by, talking, walking, praying. Laying Susan before God, handing her over to his care. She woke up much later and, I understand, began talking almost immediately. She came home Friday. I’ll say that again. She came home Friday. After seven hours of brain surgery, she was walking around, animated and joyous the next day and then she was released.

While the details trickled in immediately, we learned later that the surgery was incredibly successful, excising a lot of the disease, leaving more chemo and radiation on the horizon to push back against the inoperable remainder. However, Susan told us today that she’s never felt better. She’s actually improved her physical condition to its best point since the original diagnosis. Hallelujah!

Today is called Good Friday. The origin of the word “good” in this context is not clear. However, the meaning of the day is. It’s the day when God incarnate surrendered fully in an act that defies all we can think of as reasonable. The meaning of the crucifixion and death of Jesus is way too complicated to get into here. For the longest time, I didn’t really understand it. Now, of course, I do. It’s fitting that our Little Band convened for the first time since Susan’s surgery on this day.

Because, of course, Susan has to surrender every day. She has to. Many of us don’t. But, she does. She’s had to surrender every day for going on something like forty-three months. And, as she well knows, she can’t do that alone. Yes, she has a family and support network of loving friends but the surrender she must ultimately perform is only accomplished with God’s help. She will tell you that. And, this is something that we who are close to her know and feel deep into our souls.

And, just as this is the day of surrender, it is also the precursor of the greatest miracle of all: the Resurrection. The lifting up into eternal life. And, just as Susan has been surrendering, if you could have seen her this morning, aglow as she was, you would have gained a glimpse of the true Resurrection.

We do not know what tomorrow will bring as we move through our lives. But, we can know what today or any day is all about. Most assuredly, it is largely not what we think it’s about each day. It’s not usually where our normal attentions are drawn. But, take a moment to consider what lies just beyond the veil and the answer shimmers through.

Thank you, Susan and the Millsom family, for inviting us into your lives and allowing us to share in all that that means. We are permanently altered for it. Praise God.

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Here is a candid picture taken this morning of our group.  Susan is the lovely lady grabbing her knee, next to dear angel Connie who is beaming with joy. Connie’s husband, Rex, is standing behind her. Diane’s sister, Mary, is front left, with Diane sitting to her right and out of the picture. Next to Mary is recently-joined Ginger. Standing are Susan’s daughter, Stephanie and her husband, Joey. Joey’s mom and prayer warrior, Kelly, is seated beneath Stephanie. On Kelly’s left is sweet Mary, with her young friend and new attendee. Next to her is our dear neighbor, Jan. Unfortunately, some are not in the frame, including Diane, Kiki and Patty (sisters and forces of nature), other Diane (original team captain, now connected via FaceTime on the blue iPad), Susan’s husband, Andy, and Andy’s father, Mark. Regular attender Nancy is out of town, as is Susan’s daughter Drew. This is our Friday morning home.