In northern Germany, we recently marked the winter solstice, the dreaded, darkest time of year. Each year, I say to Phillip, my husband, “Is it just me or is winter longer and darker than it was last year?” We grownups who pride ourselves on no longer being afraid of the dark tend to get pretty childlike and fearful when we find ourselves unexpectedly plunged into darkness. This reminds me to have compassion for my children, because we are not so different. Perhaps they are just more honest.
In my personal life, I feel like I am just now emerging from a long winter season.
I was diagnosed with lymphoma in early 2024, just eleven days after the birth of our son, Asher. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost two years since that crazy time in the hospital! Friends, family, and supporters prayed for my health and for our family.
I’m thankful to report that today I’m healthy, doing well, and cancer-free. I have never been so grateful to be able to breathe well, sleep well, go on long walks with my son, and have dance parties with my kids in the living room. I actually feel better than I have in years, and I attribute this to the faithful prayers of our community and the healing power of God.
If last year was the year that everything fell to pieces, this is the year where God is handing each piece back to our family, one at a time—stronger and more beautiful than it was before. Some of the pieces that have been restored were ones I have searched for and longed for; others had long since been forgotten. Some pieces God has chosen not to return; some look starkly different than before.
If there is one thing I’ve learned during this season of struggle and setbacks, it’s that nothing is lost. Nothing is wasted. I am watching, in real time, as God answers every single prayer—some in ways I expected; others in ways we never dreamed possible.
Just as the earth has her seasons, so do we humans have our seasons in this life. We must endure the coldness and darkness of winter if we want to enjoy the warmth and fruits of summer. Necessary growth and change happen in every season.
Right now, I am learning to integrate the joyful and difficult parts of my experience—to realize that my cancer was not an enemy to be destroyed, but a temporary house guest to be welcomed. A teacher who came to show me another way to understand God’s grace. Another way to understand the suffering of my neighbor.
I see God’s mercy in allowing everything to happen just as it does, in allowing each season. Because with winter comes darkness. And with darkness comes rest. Deep, peaceful, uninterrupted rest, which restores the soul. And, boy, did I need that kind of rest.
This season has been an incredible gift of God’s grace, with all its challenges—a time for me to step back. To rest, to heal, and to breathe. To reconnect with my husband and to find each other again. To reconnect with my kids. To love and cuddle and sing to my sweet baby boy, who reminds me that every moment is a gift.
Even as I still wait on the last few broken pieces to be returned to me, polished and ready to go, I will trust him. I will trust him because he is good, even when circumstances are not. He surrounds me with his presence, answers my cries for help, and holds and comforts me through the night, as a mother holds and comforts her child. He sings over me and restores my soul.
