"Blessings arrive in unexpected packages -- in my case, cancer," writes White House Press Secretary Tony Snow in the July issue of Christianity Today.

Snow, who discovered in March that his colon cancer had recurred and spread to his liver, said his life-threatening setback is also life-affirming. It has strengthened his faith and brought clarity to his life.

"We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator," says the 51-year-old.

Former televangelist Tammy Faye Messner -- formerly Tammy Faye Bakker -- posted Tuesday on her website (service is currently unavailable) a message about her health.

Messner, 65, reports that doctors have stopped treating her cancer -- she was diagnosed with colon cancer in 1996 and announced in 2004 the disease had spread to her lungs.

"I am down weight-wise to 65 pounds, and look like a scarecrow," the Charlotte resident shared on her site. "I need God's miracle to swallow. I look at young people and wish with all my heart for just one day of 'feeling great.'"

Seven sweet, simple words were hurled at me last night by my oldest child, Joey -- the boy who makes me as crazy as he does happy.

Joey, six, was all snuggled in bed, cozy with his soft blankets, squishy pillows, and three favorite stuffed puppies. I gave him my usual speech -- Sweet dreams. I love you. Now don't get out of bed -- and then made my usual trek to another room for some me-time. My trip was stopped short, though, because a strong urge inspired me to reverse my steps and return to Joey.

"What are you doing, mommy?" Joey asked as I walked back into the room.

"I thought I'd come rest with you for a little bit," I told him. "Is that OK?" I asked, knowing full well any excuse to avoid sleep is just fine with him

Joey sat straight up, pure joy coloring his tired face. I took this to mean he welcomed my return. And so I crawled into bed and hugged Joey tight. And that's when he spoke the seven words that caused tears to pour from my eyes -- the kind of tears that spill out when the human body can no longer harness its emotion.

The words:

"Mommy, I love you so, so much."

Ever since Joey blessed me with these words, I can't seem to get one thought out of my head.

The thought:

God, I hope I survive cancer long enough to hold this boy in my arms until he is all grown up, until he is wrapping his arms around his own loving child.

I really hope this is not too much to ask.

Luanne Austin says chemotherapy is not all it's cracked up to be. She doesn't mean it's cracked up to be something really great but is far from such a thing. She means it's cracked up to be something pretty horrible but is really not all that bad.

Austin says the day her doctor announced she would receive chemotherapy was almost as bad as the day she learned she had breast cancer. That's because she had heard nothing but bad things about the treatment. She expected to be laying in bed with her life in the balance -- nauseated, vomiting, sick -- as the "cure" killed her.

All expectations aside, Austin decided to tackle chemotherapy with a positive attitude. This may seem a daunting task -- turning a dreaded chemotherapy protocol into a not-so-bad experience -- but Austin mastered the task. And here are seven of her positive thoughts about a treatment that is not all it's cracked up to be.

• Austin talked to people who had traveled journeys similar to hers. What she learned is that many women continued working through treatment. Some suffered very few side effects. One woman even told Austin her experience was super. Austin was inspired by the positive women she tracked down. And now she inspires others.
  

• Austin did some reading. She learned that chemotherapy drugs target quickly-dividing cells, like cancer cells, red and white blood cells, blood platelets, and digestive tract cells. Learning about the process helped her realize chemotherapy was intended to make her well, not make her suffer.

• Austin learned how to support her body through treatment. She came to understand that the best chance of surviving breast cancer comes from conventional medicine -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation -- but that alternative treatments can complement the traditional approach. She recommends the book Breast Cancer: Beyond Convention and considers her pursuit of a healthy diet, exercise, supplements, and a good night's sleep some of her most helpful chemotherapy add-ons.

• When Austin felt weak, tired, and just plain zoned out, she retreated to her bed with a good book and a cup of tea. Instead of considering it a setback, she called this downtime a good excuse to spend hours reading.

• Austin found relief from her nurses. They were terrific, she recalls, and professional and friendly and respectful too. Getting to know her medical crew -- and receiving hugs from them at the end of her treatment -- confirmed chemotherapy has some good points.

• For Austin, God -- who carried her through her whole journey -- was instrumental in her positive outlook. She felt lifted up and carried, she says.

• And then there's love -- pure and simple love from her husband and family members -- that allows her to conclude that chemotherapy is not so bad. "I'd have to say chemotherapy hasn't been all that bad," she says. "Not bad at all."
  

I spend 10.5 hours every weekday on my own with some combination of my two little boys. My day starts each morning and extends through meals and playtime and laughs and tears and fights and struggles and snuggles -- but never a nap -- and even a part-time preschool job where one or two boys always tag along. Sometimes I try to write during the day while my boys are happy and occupied. Typically, I don't accomplish much. Interruptions are endless -- as they should be for a mostly stay-at-home mom who chooses to devote her daytime hours to raising children.

And so I go it alone until dinner time when my husband returns from work and selflessly takes over and sets me free. He cooks, serves, and cleans up dinner. He plays and entertains and wrestles and heads up bath and book time. And then he transports each boy on his back to their respective beds.

During my moments of freedom each evening, I lose myself in my thoughts -- and I begin to write. I love my mommy job -- and wouldn't trade it for any other full-time job -- but I also love being alone. And I love writing.

Helen Keller said, "I must have something besides husband and children, something I can devote myself to! I want to go on living even after my death! And therefore, I am grateful to God for giving me this gift, this possibility of developing myself, and of writing, of expressing all that is within me."

Writing -- mostly about cancer -- helps me develop my surviving self. It helps me express all that is within me. And maybe it's fitting that I don't get too much time to dwell on the disease that consumed me for two years. If I had to choose between two busy boys and a life busy with cancer, I'd take two boys in an instant. At the end of the day, a little bit of writing about a little of cancer suits me just fine.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer almost two years ago, my greatest fear was losing my hair. The fear was consuming, painful, over-the-top. That was long ago -- and I survived. I can look back now and realize that the panic about losing my hair was such a small-scale fear -- compared to what I fear now. Now I fear a recurrence of cancer. And it's a whole lot more disabling than a little worry about being bald.

I have a few techniques for settling my fears when they get out of control. Sometimes I take deep breaths. Sometimes I distract myself and occupy my mind with something more pleasant than anxiety -- like writing, exercising, playing with my little boys. And sometimes I read about others who have come before me and have handled the same distress I sometimes feel about cancer taking up residence in my body again. Mostly I learn from stories of other women who have survived breast cancer. And I learn that I can handle the fear, that I can handle cancer if it does come back. And the women I find most inspiring are those who have had a recurrence -- or two or three -- and who still manage to happily tackle the life they have in front of them. They give me hope that if a recurrence comes my way, I too can conquer it. And here are seven snippets of hope from the book Hope Lives! The After Breast Cancer Treatment Survival Handbook -- from women who keep on surviving breast cancer.

In a 45-day bike tour, and over halfway through, six international college students have been cycling across America to raise money for cancer research and blogging the daily journey at Cross Country for Cancer. There are three reasons I have been following the blog posts: one, these young men are spectacular for the undertaking of raising money for cancer research by pedaling coast-to-coast; two, some of the posts and photos with captions are Monty Python-esque hilarious (which I compared them to in the first post I blogged about them); and three, it has been interesting to see this country at pavement level through the eyes of a group not normally residents.

They have blogged gorgeous scenery seen and generous people met. They have also discovered where the Grinch works his summer job. In case you don't know, because I didn't, the Grinch is running the tram somewhere near Cotopaxi, Colorado.

Last week, I posted on the power behind the power of prayer regarding a study basically suggesting that prayer does not help people heal, and to make matters worse, prayer seems to inadvertently act with evil-eye power, making those prayed for suffer more difficult recovery than their counterparts who were not prayed for at all. But if prayer can have a negative affect on the health of someone prayed for, then it must have the power to heal too. Yes? Yes. As Nietzsche once pointed out, good and bad cannot, and do not, travel separately, as each is merely a side to a two-sided coin. So if the study is suggesting prayer does not have any power to heal, it cancels out its conclusions by suggesting that prayer does have the power to harm. All this study provides is a reference for those who believe there is nothing beyond life but what we experience in a skin-and-bones existence, much the same as a religious text is used by those to support their take on ultimate truth. You would think we could learn to agree to disagree, because, dare I suggest, each of us is partly right and none of us owns the exclusive rights to reality and truth. But then again, what good is that perspective when it comes to pissing contests or the impassioned discourse that fuels the religious and scientifically political punditry.

In a Slate article, The Deity in the Data by William Saletan, the author asserts that the researchers of the study, many media outlets and clerics are shrugging off the study findings because the findings did not go the way most expected, or wanted. The study "cannot address a large number of religious questions, such as whether God exists, whether God answers intercessory prayers, or whether prayers from one religious group work in the same way as prayers from other groups." To that, Saletan says bull. He presents some interesting, and entertaining, perspectives of his own. I do not think anyone is shrugging. As I see it, the power of prayer was not the real focus of the study, but whether or not God can be proven as real. Quite a task, and an unneeded one. Those who believe in the power of their God, believe in the power of their prayers. For those who do not believe, there is nothing to prove, is there? It is my guess that the researchers might not have received the same level of funding by stating the obvious hypothesis.