Before we went to Mayo last week, a friend called and said she was going to drop off something for Julie, but we could never connect. In the morning before we left, we discovered a bag taped to our van. The note inside was soaking wet from the previous night’s rain, but the pendant was fine. However, we couldn’t figure out what the pendant was. We tossed out ideas all day about what it could be: a man and a woman dancing, a horse, a dog, a fun design, but we couldn’t figure it out.
When we got to Mayo , the doctor kept talking about how my form of lymphoma is more like a marathon than a sprint. There is no cure. We have to keep watching it month after month, going through treatment, hoping the treatment works, waiting again, watching again, and so on. A lifelong marathon.
Walking down the hallway after the appointment, we came back to the pendant conversation. Jad Roeske had come with us, and he couldn’t figure it out either. So we tucked it in the back of our minds and went home.
When we got to Roeske’s house to drop Jad off, we told Jad’s wife (also named Julie) about the pendant mystery and showed it to her. She took one look and said, “It’s a marathon runner.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, we could see it. A marathon runner breaking the tape at the end of the race.
I stood there in shock. God hadn’t forgotten about us. He used a mystery pendant to wash his love over us when we needed it most.