Baker: Summer of surprises with highs, lows and highs

I knew that 2025 was going to be a big year for me. It certainly started out that way. In March, I celebrated one of those significant “big number” birthdays, filled with gifts, congratulations and lovely surprises.

This summer promised to be chock-full of even more stellar celebrations. I pictured it all ahead of time. It would be like Dr. Seuss’s poem: “Congratulations, today is your day! You’re off to great places. You’re off and away!”

After all, in June I would graduate from a two-year seminary program and be ordained as an Interfaith minister. As if that weren’t enough, seven years after being widowed, I was going to marry my very special someone in July.

My anticipation of the highs of this summer had me dancing among the stars, sitting on the fluffiest clouds, standing triumphantly on mountaintops. The lows of the season, which soon arrived, felt like a continuous slide, ever-deeper in quicksand, threatening my happy summer. And beyond.

In late May, I found out I had a tumor; quite possibly cancerous. This news hit my life like a bomb. I saw my ordination, our wedding plans, the future–all splintering into spiky, painful fragments. I railed against the unfairness of it all: Why, I kept asking, why now, of all times?

Days later, it was time to go to New York for ordination. I felt fragile, unsure of myself, so I canceled my plane tickets. That made me feel like a victim; where was my confident, positive self? She was in there, somewhere, I knew, so I stiffened my spine and resolved to join my classmates, no matter what.

My fiance would drive me to New York and stay nearby during the retreat. However, the day before we were to leave, I broke a tooth. My first reaction was, again, why? Why? Stop questioning, I reminded myself. I was able to get the tooth repaired and arrived in New York, late, exhausted and a bit under the weather, upset at what I had missed, but so grateful to be there for ordination and graduation.

When we got home, our wedding was just a few weeks away. I looked forward to becoming Joe’s wife, celebrating with our loved ones, and dancing at the reception. I’m not talking ballroom stuff; I’m talking about fast dancing–a passion of mine since my teen years in the 60s. In short, I couldn’t wait to get my groove on!

As John Lennon, among others, famously said, life is what happens while you’re making other plans.

The medical folks once again intruded, directing me to an oncologist, who would remove the tumor, at which time we’d learn whether or not it was malignant. The appointment was two weeks before the wedding. I clenched my fists in frustration: it’s bad enough that I might have cancer, I thought. But what if the surgery has to be done immediately? What will happen to our wedding plans? Why can’t all this just go away?

I sat in the waiting room, my mind lost in turmoil, until I met the oncologist. She was reassuring, kind and confident. She gave me hope. I left her office in a much calmer state, resolving to shelve the worries so I could savor every happy moment ahead.

Our wedding was absolutely perfect. Our four grandchildren, ranging in age from five to eleven, preceded me down the aisle. Surrounded by our precious family and many dear friends, all I felt as I walked towards my beloved was gratitude. No longer worried about the outcome of the surgery, no longer frustrated over the continuing whiplash of highs and lows my summer had been, all I could do was absorb my blessings. Which, cancer or not, were too numerous to count.

With tears of joy in our eyes, Joe and I exchanged vows of eternal love, even though we both knew from experience how fragile life can be. And I danced for several hours, almost non-stop, just as I did sixty years ago.

The surgery took place a week after the wedding. The tumor was benign. No further treatment needed. This was gratifying, of course. Better yet? I learned that bad days make good ones shine even brighter. And that leaning into my deep faith–and with the support of my family, friends, and kind strangers–I can handle whatever comes in life.

The accessories of the Summer of 2025 have been an eclectic mix: CT scans, ultrasounds, doctors’ waiting rooms, hospital gowns, a ministerial stole, surgical tools, dental drills, sparkly silver dancing sandals and a beautiful bridal bouquet. A combination that, as it turns out, was absolutely perfect.