Winter

The winter wind whips through our lives as we confront the diagnosis of our loved one. We contemplate complex medical language and struggle to pronounce prescriptions for medications that held no significance to us before this season. Now, cold, hard truths slap us in the face while medical professionals tell us our loved one requires care.

We wrestle with feelings of denial and even depression. We bargain with the Lord and beg him for answers, and yet we’re often met with silence. We grapple with the death of our dreams as we realize our time now revolves around caregiving duties. Perhaps it’s the dream of raising a healthy child growing old with a beloved spouse or having more time with a parent than the medical brochure implied we would.

Suddenly having to navigate a new season of uncertainty, we mourn the life we feel we should have had as we enter a fellowship of suffering with our loved one.

After Jason was diagnosed with brain cancer, I didn’t even have enough fight in me to be angry those first few days. I was simply hopeless and sad. I had three children under the age of five and a husband with a brain tumor.

Jason saw how dejected I was and invited my friend over. We talked and sipped our tea, and she asked if she could pray for me. When she prayed, she whispered, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” and as she said his name, I agreed and echoed her sentiment. As we declared the name of Jesus, my heart felt lighter, and my hope began to return.

Caregivers, we need hope more than anything. Hope is what gets us out of bed every day to accomplish the monotonous and mundane. Hope is what prevents us from running away or throwing our hands up in despair. Hope makes everything we do worthwhile—hope in eternity, hope for ourselves, and hope for our loved ones.

During the winter months, we recall that the snow provides moisture, and moisture produces growth, and growth will eventually provide nourishment to those who desperately yearn for hope. Stay faithful. Winter doesn’t last forever.