We got the diagnosis on Feb. 23, 2017, at 9 p.m.

A new anniversary: before and after knowing your husband has cancer.

We rushed home from the doctor’s office,They left the shopping carts half-full in an aisle, and rushed back home and the first thing we wanted to do was to go to the Ohel, the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s resting place in Queens, N.Y. Our older children were grocery shopping for Shabbat. I called them, and they left the shopping carts half-full in an aisle, and rushed back home. Not a good way to tell your kids that their father is very sick. I panicked; regretfully, I wasn’t thinking. I could not stop crying.

Leaving the Rebbe’s gravesite, my husband turned to me and said: “Please, no more crying.” And the crying stopped. Now, a year later, sitting in the hospital with him, I understand what he was asking me to do.

I am part of a group of women who study Tanya, the book of Jewish philosophy written by Rabbi Shneur Zalman, the founder of Chabad Chassidus. We divide the Tanya among 120 women, and we complete the entire Tanya every day. After 40 days, we start a new cycle, and I get a new chapter to learn.

Waiting for test results, I study my new chapter with my husband. Rabbi Shneur Zalman explains that from birth, the brain has the power to rule over the heart. The mind naturally, automatically, governs the heart because that is how we are created.

Observing my husband, I see how this lesson is possible.

My husband is using everything he is as a Chassid, having grown up in a Chassidic home, to dictate his response to his illness. He is in a time of crisis, and he needs the real mental work it takes to transcend hardship. His strength is summoned by adversity.

Rabbi Shneur Zalman quotes King Solomon: “Then I saw that wisdom surpasses folly as light surpasses darkness.” Why do we need this analogy? Isn’t it clearly understood that wisdom is greater than foolishness?

However, this analogy teaches us something new. Just as a little bit of light can suddenly, when lit, remove the darkness. So, too, even a little bit of wisdom can remove folly. Even more so, the Rebbe assures us that even a little bit of light and wisdom can dispel the darkness, naturally, automatically.

The mind of one who learns Torah and Chassidic teachings, naturally, effortlessly, changes who he is. His connection to G‑d is real. His cognitive powers are relevant to how he responds to his illness. His positive attitude and exceptional character are directed by his mind.

In our morning prayers we say a blessing, thanking G‑d for giving us strength. The next blessing we thank G‑d for crowning us with glory. That strength cloaks us in splendor that is recognized by all.

Doctors, nurses, family and friends all ask my husband the same question. “How are you feeling? You look great!”

Of course, he does. His intellect governs his emotions. He sits up straight, smiles through the pain and is cordial to everyone who meets him. No self-pity, no complaining, just pure faith that we can get through this with dignity, and that things are going to get better. His learning and education creates a superior human, a prince.

He never asks for help; he tries to do almost everything he’s done before and puts up a good front. On Shabbat, in the hospital, he slowly puts on his hat and Shabbat attire to make the blessing on a cup of wine. No shortcuts.

In the hospital, at a low point, for the first time, I heard him say, “I need to krechtz, sigh, moan a little.” I sat down near him and said, “OK, I’m listening.” He laughed, and that was that.

He has driven long distances, taken flights as well, all in order not to disappoint our children.

One Shabbat afternoon, he came home from synagogue in a lot of pain. I asked him what had happened. He told me that he had met his uncle while walking home. Immediately, he straightened his back and began walking at his normal pace so that his uncle would not notice that anything was amiss. All this, so others would not experience pain.

He focuses on the positive, telling stories of Chassidim with enjoyment, pleasure and a lot of pride. His happiness is contagious. Time and circumstances have not changed that.

Every Shabbat and holiday is met with excitement. We’ve had guests at our table who have asked me if he is always so animated when talking about the Torah portion of the week. What joy he has in being a Jew.

In another one of the chapters of Tanya that I’ve reviewed for 40 days, Rabbi Shneur Zalman teaches us why King Solomon uses the analogy of light and darkness for happiness and sadness.

The great advantage joy has over sadness is compared to light that comes precisely from darkness. Light can only be seen when you’ve experienced darkness first. So it is with happiness that comes after sadness. The great joy that we experience when we recognize G‑d’s kindness and the Divine Providence in everything we do.

Six years ago, my husband gave me a“You are the happiest person I know” beautiful ring in the shape of a flower. I was so surprised.

“This is such a happy ring,” I said.

“Well, you are the happiest person I know,” he answered.

I was taken aback. I know that I have a sense of humor and I like to make people laugh, but I never thought of myself as an exceptionally happy person.

My new challenge is to be genuinely happy. I am working on making it real. I am getting good at pushing worrying thoughts out of the way. The third Lubavitcher Rebbe said, Tracht gut vet zein gut: “Think good and it will be good.”

Bitachon, absolute trust that G‑d will make things good, will be the vessel to bring down G‑d’s blessings. The mere exercise of thinking positively will bring good results.

I am awaiting good news!