So, I get up every morning and race around the house trying to find my clothes, pack my lunch, feed my dog, check my email. Sometimes I am putting my earrings and shoes on at the same time, and I always, always, eat breakfast in the car. Chugging a glass of milk and inhaling a piece of toast with jam has been breakfast for me for most of the past 5 years.

For the past two weeks, the only adjustment to my routine — if you can call it that — is I now park my car at the hospital instead of my office, and rather than sitting at my desk, I lie down on a hard machine. Then, for the next 15 minutes, I radiate. Or rather, I am radiated.

For my first treatment, I was radiated only with nuclear material. I had too much on my mind to feel otherwise. Beginning with day two, however, it dawned on me that 15 minutes of quiet, alone time could be spent much more productively than by worrying. So starting last Wednesday, I was radiated with nuclear material AND grace, as I spent the time praying to Jesus.

They tell me that when I leave the treatment room, that the radioactive waves that entered my body do not affect anyone else. But I don’t believe the same is true of the grace. Today, a lady at work stopped me in the hallway, gave me a quick embrace, and with tears in her eyes said, “Every time I see you I just have to praise Jesus.” That’s nothing but God’s grace radiating through me in ways I can take no credit for.

And God’s people are radiating me with His grace through their generosity, yet again. Today, I had a warm dinner I didn’t make, and a fresh cut lawn I didn’t mow. For the next four weeks there is a schedule of people to bring me food, clean my house, fold my clothes, and care for my yard.

Grace, grace.

And on top of all of that, I am feeling pretty good. I’ve had a little nausea, and my energy level is slowly dropping. But I am still able to work full-time (especially with all the help around the house), and most of the time, I just feel pretty good.