Everything changed six years ago. After months of praying for answers, we got them.

Five months of sickness, questions, doubts and frustrations came together mid-morning on the last day of June.

The nurse led us from the waiting room to the one room I had seen but never entered, the one no one wants to step foot in. It’s the room with a couch instead of an exam table, a filing cabinet instead of a swivel stool, and artwork on the walls that doesn’t match a thing.

It’s the room they take you to when they have bad news.

I was 17 when they told me I had a brain tumor.

Instead of being scared or fearful or nervous or any other synonym that made any kind of sense in that moment, I was just — okay.

I’ve written it all out, partially on the page here titled and fully in chapter two — Sickness & Healing — of my book .

The doctor said the tumor needed to come out right away — and I stared blankly at the random piece of art just to the left of his head.

He told me they weren’t sure if it was cancer — and God’s peace washed right over.

He said to pack our bags and call the hospital — and I prayed one of the only prayers in my entire life that I remember to this day:

God, I don’t know what You’re doing but I trust you no matter what.

It was so incredibly simple but they were the only words that made sense.

Everything shifted on June 30th. Two small words — brain tumor — drastically changed my world. We received the answer we spent months praying for but it wasn’t the one we wanted. I was given six days to prepare for surgery and every moment felt like a gift, a short amount of time to live with eyes wide open and to focus on what truly matters.

(People. Not things or to-dos or projects. Just people.)

In that moment I could see how He had been preparing me, how no pain had been wasted. So many broken moments led to that day, moments that I would undo in a heartbeat except that they led me to that place.

The most peace I’ve ever felt in my entire life surrounded me in a doctor’s office six years ago. It was other-worldly, holy, all-encompassing, indescribable. There was no room left to be scared.

If you’ve been praying for an answer, He’s it. You may get an earthly answer too, but He will be the one you need.

And He will be enough.

Your world might shift and rock and it may feel like the very ground beneath your feet is crumbling, but He will be solid and sure, steady and strong.

When the waves come and the wind threatens to knock you over, step out of the boat, reach out your hand, and walk on the waves.

If your foot slips, reach out your hand. If you begin to sink, call out His name. You won’t drown because He is the wave-walker, the storm-calmer.

I don’t know whether He’ll say these three words to you or to the storm, but either way all will be well:

Peace, be still.

The third image was taken by Abby and is one of the free prints that blog subscribers receive.