Anchored in Him
Mom has cancer.
It was already past midnight on May 25 when I got the text. But once I saw it, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. Now, a month later, I still struggle to sleep. My brain stays on until 2 or 3 a.m.
I feel unsettled, like all the pieces inside me are scattered and jumbled up. I’m restless and unfocused.
That night in Peru, I laid alone in Grandma’s guest bedroom and wrote. I was so full of words it hurt. When I was too tired to type, I kept talking, recording my words. After a few hours, I wore myself out enough to sleep.
But since that night, I’ve struggled to write. I want to and need to, but I can’t. I keep my words locked inside me where they can’t reach anyone else.
That last Saturday in Peru I made brunch for several of my high school friends. We sat in the kitchen eating oatmeal cookies while our dog Cap played around our feet.
Isabella, my childhood best friend, looked at me and said, “You didn’t go to sleep until 4 this morning. You just found out your mom has cancer but you’ve been smiling all day. It’s okay not to be okay. This is a big deal.”
Deep inside me, a storm raged and I ached to cry. A few years ago I would’ve. But I pinched the skin on the back of my hand and focused on that instead. I waited until I could smile again and not-cry as we talked.
A week ago, I woke up to a picture of my best friend’s car upside down in a ditch. I usually try not to dwell on what if’s, but this rattled me. I was in her wedding the day before I flew to India. She could’ve died or been seriously injured…all while I was asleep a world away.
Life can flip upside down so quickly.
That same day, as I was still trying to process the pictures I’d seen, I kept getting texts from my mom and family about her doctor appointments and upcoming treatments. I kept trying to push the worries to the back of my mind.
That afternoon, we met up with some new friends. I started to share with them about how my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I barely made out the words, “But she showed me that no matter what we can still trust God” before I broke down crying.
Those sweet ladies hugged me and gently wiped away my tears. As we walked away from their house, I felt like a bandage was ripped off of a gaping hole in my heart. I scrambled to throw bandaids over it to hide the wound, but it wasn’t enough.
At that moment, my roommate Lydia turned to me and asked how I was doing. Without meeting her eyes, I smiled and said, “I’m fine.” I pinched the back of my hand as I waited for the unshed tears to recede.
I didn’t want to talk about it and maybe that’s why I couldn’t write about it. When I write, I put my heart on the page. I wasn’t ready to show the world how much I was hurting.
These words are chaotic and messy and honest. But I want to share them not because I’m ready but because God’s been holding me close this whole time. I’ve known that since that first sleepless night in Peru.
Every morning, I read another Psalm and draw my strength from God’s promises of love and hope. He revives me daily and lovingly delivers me from my fears and insecurities.
He hasn’t pulled me out of this storm yet, but He’s here with me, holding me, loving me, healing me.
Whatever storm you are in, I pray you come to rely fully on God’s strength. Read Psalm 61, 62, 71 . . . or just read all of them.
Below I’ve shared the prayer I wrote right after I found out my mom had cancer. It is still my heart’s cry.
“Whatever happens, God, my hope is fixed in you. You are the only anchor I can cling to. Hold me tonight, now, because nothing makes sense and I don’t know the answers. You are the one fixed point in my life. You are unchanging. You are above the storm; you are not overcome by the waves or the fear.
Satan wants to drown me out with conflicts without and fears within. He wants to stomp out any light You’ve ignited in my soul and heart. But I will not be tossed to and fro by his deceit, his malicious ways.
The waves keep coming, pulling me back into darkness, but when I look up, I see You—and You are the same, yesterday, today, and forever.
The harder the storm thrashes around me, the more chaos rips through my life, then the more I will cling tightly to You—my Anchor and my Hope.
I claim the promise of Psalm 71:5. “For You are my hope, O Lord God; You are my trust from my youth.”
I’ve not yet seen the worst of this world. I do not know the trials I will face. But I know that without You, I’m not strong enough to face any of them. Without Your mercy, Your love, Your strength, I would crumble apart.
Keep my soul still in this storm. Calm the waves in my heart. Draw me always back to You. If I cannot sleep, may I write. Not worry. I don’t need to feel numb or empty. I am full—my heart overflows with Your love and blessings.
And when the tears grace my cheeks, may I find comfort in them, knowing You catch every one and treasure it in your bottle. You have been holding me my entire life, lifting me away from the waves and struggles of life, wrapping me tightly in Your precious love.
How undeserving am I! How sin-wretched and lost until I fell at Your cross! Your blood brought my freedom and Your death secured my life!”
It took me a month to piece together these words. Now, sitting with friends in an adorable D’Crepes cafe, I’m finally letting go. I’m hurting and I’m not okay right now. But I’m surrounded by people who love me and a God who will never stop saving me from these storms.
As I sit here, I stop fighting the tears. This time, I let myself cry.
