I’m CSPC’s Alison Fleetwood. Here’s how I’m living deeply. 

“I wasn’t sure what was going on in my body last summer, but it was clear something was deeply, desperately wrong. After 11 hours in the ER (my doctor had sent me there), I was finally put in a room just before midnight- but it was a room in the oncology ward. The doctors had cavalierly tossed around the ‘C’ word, but I was sure they were wrong. Over the next two days, they drained two gallons -gallons!- of fluid from around my lung. I was x-rayed, scanned, poked, prodded, and tested. After four days, a sweet hospital doctor in a cheery Hawaiian shirt rocked my world to the core: ‘Hon, we have the test results back. You have a stage 4 gynecological cancer. It’s spread to your omentum and was present in the fluid around your lungs.’ I’ve been called an overachiever, but why couldn’t this start at stage 1? No- I had to be all the way in at stage 4. One moment I was a happy, healthy woman looking forward to traveling, retirement, my four grandkids, and finally having time to paint the inside of my house. The next, I felt like I’d been literally kicked in the gut, wondering if I’d even wake up tomorrow. Was I scared? You bet. But interestingly, I felt a curious peace- one I can only attribute to my faith, and to the prayers already being sent up all around me. My whole church was praying. And that peace has carried me through everything since.

One thing I knew, as I started this battle, was that I’d have strong support from my fellow brothers and sisters here. You see, CSPC has been my church home for 42 years. It’s also been my work home, for the most part, since 1989. I love this place. Seriously. I’m a native fifth-generation Floridian -born and raised in Daytona Beach- who was forced to move to Knoxville in 1984 because of my husband’s job. (It’s always his fault.) I sobbed the whole two-day drive. I’d never seen snow, didn’t even own a pair of closed-toe shoes, and it started snowing the day we arrived. I was cold, lonely, and miserable. We started attending CSPC because it was close to our home. That was 42 years ago, and I’ve never seriously attended another church in Knoxville. In 1988 we had a surprise pregnancy- our fourth child. A routine ultrasound revealed she had Down Syndrome. We were advised to abort, but that was not an option for us. CSPC people stepped in, walked with us, helped us prepare. She was due December 21st. She died in utero on December 2 and on December 9, Catherine Elaine Fleetwood was born. CSPC was there, holding us up through all the tears and heartache. Pastor Andy Holt performed her little funeral and helped us grieve. Not long after, in January 1989, I was at home, lost in grief and real despair, when the phone rang. It was CSPC’s Mac Sells, asking if I wanted a part-time job at the church. Uh, yes! I was in so much pain- but Mac, through the Lord and CSPC, saved me. That was the beginning of my career here- including 18 years in Sports Ministry, of all things, which still makes me laugh, since I’m the least athletic person alive. I thought working at the church would be temporary. But God had other plans. After leaving Knoxville for a few years, again because of husband and job (told you it’s always his fault; LOL) we moved back, I returned to CSPC, and was honored to be hired as part of the Mission Team. I have been so lucky to have worked with some of the most wonderful people at this church in both Sports and Mission. They have meant the world to me!

I have always been a very strong, very healthy individual. My family has called me a ‘tank’(not very complimentary)! My only hospital stays were for birthing my four kids and an overnight for an appendectomy. But last June, I started having abdominal pain in the middle of the night- never during the day. I’d slip into another room so I wouldn’t wake my husband, chalking it up to something I’d eaten. Over the next few weeks it got worse, until it was ten times worse than any of my four labors. I figured maybe it was my gallbladder. Nothing serious. But I was also finding it harder to breathe. It was my habit to walk my neighborhood every night, and one evening I couldn’t make it very far, and wasn’t sure I’d make it home. After a weekend of continuous pain, I called the doctor first thing Monday, August 4th. She saw me right away. A chest x-ray showed my right lung completely surrounded by fluid, which was why I couldn’t breathe. That was when she sent me straight to the emergency room. She didn’t have a happy face, and she hugged me on my way out. I remember getting in the car and telling my husband: ‘I am so scared.’ That was the moment my life changed forever, the beginning of the hospital stay where I received that awful cancer diagnosis.

There’s a story in Acts 12 I keep coming back to. Peter is in prison: an ultra-high-security prison, chained between two guards, sixteen soldiers rotating watch. Neither James Bond nor Indiana Jones could break out of that one! But the church was gathered, praying earnestly for him. And in the night, an angel woke Peter, his chains fell off, and he walked right out past the guards, through an iron gate that swung open on its own. When Peter came to his senses, he went straight to the house where everyone was praying for him. He knocked, and a servant girl named Rhoda was so overjoyed she forgot to even let him in. She just ran to tell the others, who said, ‘You’re out of your mind.’ But he kept knocking. I love that passage, because it reminds me: God always hears our prayers, but the answer isn’t always the one we asked for. After all, they also prayed for James, and James was beheaded. What remains constant, though, is that God is always with us. Like Peter, I couldn’t rescue myself when I received my cancer diagnosis. All I could do was trust God while His people prayed. And they did. Friends and family showed up. They filled my hospital room with flowers and plants. They brought me cuddly stuffed animals to hold onto in the dark. They came at all hours, and, again, most of all… they prayed- when I was too exhausted or scared to pray myself. I was rarely alone. My whole church was praying, and nothing brings peace like the prayers of a believer.

The chemo cocktail was three drugs, then a complete hysterectomy, then three more rounds. My first chemo was also my last day in the hospital. One real encouragement was Nurse Ann, who was fighting breast cancer herself- five years running- and totally unselfconscious about her mostly-bald, fuzzy head. Before the hysterectomy, my doctor was blunt: If the cancer had spread to other organs, he’d close me back up, and I’d have about a year to live. That hit hard. I attended a Global Mission Group meeting the Monday before surgery, and they all prayed for me. I have never known such peace. Thankfully, the surgery went well- the cancer hadn’t spread further. The drugs did what they were designed to do, and my hair fell out. All of it. My daughters bought me cute cancer caps. (Silver lining: mornings got a lot simpler- no shampoo, no curlers, and with no eyebrows, not much makeup needed!) My blood pressure became a real problem, though, spiking above 200 more than once, landing me back in the ER, and once into an ambulance in front of the whole neighborhood at 8 a.m. Then, this March, an MRI found an aneurysm in my brain. (Bright side: I do have a brain- I’ve seen the pictures!) A few weeks ago, on June 29th, they placed one stent. More surgery is scheduled for today, July 29th. Through all of this, you have blessed me with your prayers, cards, and encouraging texts. You’ve been there praying for me when I didn’t have the strength to even ask God why. Please don’t stop- I have a long way to go, including and beyond today.

I’ll be honest: I’ve never been great at disciplined devotions or quiet time. But I’ve realized something this year: I have an ongoing conversation with God running in my head all day long, whether I’m scared or grateful or just doing the dishes. I’d bet that’s true for a lot of you, too. That doesn’t mean I don’t have dark thoughts. I do, and they come mostly in the middle of the night. Praying the Lord’s Prayer over and over soothes me. Isaiah 43 has been my main encouragement through all of this: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned.’ A good friend wrote that out on a card that now sits on my desk. I know I’m not the only one who’s had to deal with this horrible disease, and my heart goes out to everyone who has walked this road. It would be unbearable without Jesus. I’m grateful, first for my precious family: my husband, my kids and their spouses, my four beautiful grandchildren. They have cared for me so well. I’m grateful for the medical profession- the doctors, nurses, and scientists who’ve devoted their lives to caring for the sick. And I’m grateful for this church, filled with people who care, and who pray to a God who hears every word. CSPC will always be my home. I have so many sweet, joyful memories of my years on staff here, and the wonderful friends I’ve been blessed with. The main reason I’m sharing my story like this is simply to say ‘thank you’ to you all. Scripture tells us, ‘Neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ Amen. He is always with us. I love you all. And however this story ends, I take such comfort in how it’s being carried- on the prayers of people who will never let go of me, and ultimately by a loving God who will tenderly walk me all the way home.”