I Now ask That I Recognise Him

Kath Petrie

I am a mother and grandmother, with a background in education, now working part-time in an Auckland parish enjoying life in my seventies.

In January 2005 my mother died of metastasised breast cancer. It had been diagnosed years before, and she had kept it at bay through many bouts of chemotherapy. She had also kept on living to the full – dancing (ballroom, line, sequence) and even conducting keep-fit classes for the ‘old ladies’ (many younger than her) in the complex where she lived. I had been with her in Scotland at the end of I the previous year, and been blinded by her joie de vie, failing to realise it was willpower and drugs that kept her going.

In July of the same year, back home, a routine mammogram led to a recall and a diagnosis of carcinoma in situ in my left breast. I was two years into the most challenging job of my career, and I went to pieces. Very supportive colleagues, friends and doctors got me through all the tests following the initial diagnosis, and listened to my agonising over the choices of what kind of surgery I should have, and where, and how soon. With their help I decided on a complete mastectomy, to be done in the public health system, with surprisingly little delay.

By the day of the surgery, I had become familiar with every step of the process. I knew that I would be given a relaxant, Medazolam, by injection, to allay anxiety, cause drowsiness, and remove memory of the event. As it happened however, some glitches in the process meant that there was not enough time to administer the injection so it could take effect before the assigned theatre spot.

I had recently begun again the practice of meditation in the Christian tradition, using as a mantra the word Marana-tha, the Aramaic words meaning Come Lord Jesus. Lying on the trolley as I was rushed to the theatre, I began to meditate. Almost immediately I could feel a warmth enfolding and uplifting me – the physical sensation of being cradled in warm, loving hands – and a profound sense of being accompanied and cared for. No need for Medazolam!

Looking back, it’s easy to identify that moment as the one where I experienced the presence of God in Jesus; but actually Jesus had been with me in so many ways before then – in my mother’s courageous example, in the support I had through the month of decision-making, and in the wisdom of those who taught me to meditate.

Rather than asking Jesus to ‘come’ now I ask him to help me recognise him each day and give thanks.