Not today, Satan, Bre thinks lying on a gurney, as a sonographer scans her right breast. It didn't work then, and it won't work now. She knows all too well the scare tactics of the enemy. The father of lies devises ways to trigger anxiety, doubt, and fear. Today is no different, she thinks, lying calmly, staring at a single, square tile of a blue sky on the ceiling. Someone thought to put this mural there, for women who are lying in wait―in wait hoping to not hear the word

Bre lays stiff on a gurney as she waits for the diagnostic results of her mammogram. Thoughts travel through her mind as she shivers in fear. Why is there breast cancer? Why do some women get diagnosed while others don't? Why are mammograms so intimidating? In the stillness, whispers to God escape her lips. When the nurse emerges, Bre listens intently as tears gather in her eyes. Thinking of the miracle therein, she slowly dresses and grabs her personal effects. As she studi