Not My Own

I knew that as long as I was still walking, I was still alive. After every chemo infusion as I battled stage-four cancer, I would try to walk to flush the toxins out of my body. But it was more than the movement that I craved—it was the solitude and silence that I found when I walked.

I became a walking prayer; for me, each inhale became “grace in,” and each exhale became “cancer out.” A thousand steps became a thousand prayers—each step a soulful connection to God. On long, contemplative walks my mind emptied and a heightened sense of well-being flooded my senses. God was everywhere; life was overwhelmingly beautiful and peaceful. God’s peace became my peace.

This practice of walking became a metaphor for my life. I would walk one step at a time, one day at a time, and God would decide how long and how far my life would extend. Obviously I wanted to walk a long way—to live a long life. I was not ready to leave behind my family and loved ones. But when I surrendered—when I accepted that I was not in control—something happened. Every day, every breath, every step, became a gift.

Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you, God. This is the cadence of my life. In God I live and move and have my being (Acts 17:28).

Edie Littlefield Sundby is the author of The Mission Walker. Despite less than one percent odds of survival when she was diagnosed with stage-four gallbladder cancer in 2007, she went on to walk the 1,600-mile California Mission Trail from Loreto, Mexico, to Sonoma, California.