Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

We have been prayed over and anointed with oil. We have been loved on, and we haven’t even started yet. But Friday is go time and I am armoring up.

This morning I had to pray to get out of bed. I told God many times I can’t do this. I asked for strength like I have quite literally never done before. I lay face down on the floor of my closet begging God for healing.

Today, I felt numb and paralyzed and overwhelmed and nauseated and my head throbbed. I felt defeated, and I couldn’t even fathom how my husband was mustering up the courage to fight because I just wanted life to stand still and let us quietly move past this.

Today, I quite literally struggled to stand.

I fell to my knees so many times and told God I couldn’t get back up. It was the hardest day of this journey so far. Maybe, honestly, the hardest day of my life. The reality of our situation sunk in today. Even writing this I feel like I am going to throw up again.

I texted a friend and asked for help getting my house ready for people to come, but deep down realized I just needed someone to help me walk today. I felt that way yesterday, too. I honestly thought I was going to get to the church and just fall down in the back of the room until enough people could hold me to keep me standing.

RELATED: Cancer Can’t Take That

And in a different way that is what happened. They prayed and cried with us and lifted us up in spirit and in Truth.

My 3-year-old lost her little mind yesterday, and today she asked a lot of questions about daddy. She told me she was so sad so many times today, but she doesn’t know why. It wrecked me.

Tonight we told the choir and our pastor told the congregation. I saw the email while I was in the restroom of the choir room, and I must’ve sat on the toilet for 20 minutes getting the courage to walk out and face people.

I don’t know how to walk this walk. I don’t know how to be with my husband and my kids and not feel like I’m neglecting one or the other. I don’t know how to do this, but I am trusting God is working for our good and His glory and we want to be a part of Him getting the glory.

Leukemia is such a scary word, but the gruesome word relapse is now even scarier to me.

But I am holding tight to Jesus because while it is scary, God is not bound by statistics, and He already knew we would be walking this. He is the almighty God who rules and reigns over everything. And, He alone can heal my husband, and I am believing He will. I am begging Him to, and in my moments of unbelief, I am asking Him to help me trust His Word and lean not on my own understanding.

RELATED: To the Young Warriors Fighting Cancer: You Are Superheroes

My little sister shared Mark 6 with me the day after the relapse diagnosis. God had given it to her the first time my husband was diagnosed with leukemia. I am crying out daily, “Jesus, come get in the boat.” He is faithful to do that.

Previously published on the author’s blog

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Lacy Lain

My name is Lacy Lain, I’m a disciple of Jesus, pastor’s wife, and mommy to three incredible kiddos. I have a passion for educating and encouraging moms as they walk out the hard yet wonderful seasons of motherhood. I’m a former Pre-Kindergarten teacher turned “mom-blogger” and couldn’t be more thankful. I celebrate my weirdness and invite others to embrace the wonderfully weird and quirky way God perfectly designed them, too. Among all these things I am the caregiver for my amazing husband who is currently undergoing treatment for his relapse of leukemia. We are fully relying on the power of Jesus and trusting that He is working and His glory will be made known regardless of our circumstances. I’m quite literally addicted to coffee, and I’m not mad about it. Also, I believe that chocolate is a love language and my husband is my favorite human on the planet.

Cancer Taught Me to Open My Hand

In: Cancer, Faith, Motherhood
Woman in cancer treatment holding a young child's hand

When I thought I was going to die, grief blinded me. Not really for myself. I’ve had a pretty good run. Reflecting on my life, it’s easy for me to see that my stroll into adulthood was leisurely. In college, I studied literature, a luxurious indulgence. Even as a naive 20-year-old, I understood the extravagance of being able to sit under a tree and read, albeit in sweltering Missouri heat. I studied the world’s literary masterpieces while sweat trickled down my back, mosquitoes nipped at hard-to-reach places, and the MBA students on campus wondered what I was doing. But those...

Keep Reading

“Wear It Anyway, You Never Know When You’ll Get Another Chance.”

In: Cancer, Friendship, Living
Two women holding up dresses, color photo

“It’s way too fancy,” I told my husband. “I’d be overdressed.” My new outfit was a beauty—white and lacy, perfect for a summer cocktail party, but too much for a school function on a Tuesday evening. In the back of my head, though, I heard my friend’s voice. Wear it anyway. You never know when you’ll get another chance. The last time I saw Shalean, I was bloated from chemo drugs, and both of us wondered if it would be the last time we’d see each other. My prognosis was bad: triple negative breast cancer, already spread to my lymph...

Keep Reading

This Is How to Show Up for a Friend Who Has Cancer

In: Cancer, Friendship, Living
Bald woman during cancer treatments and same woman in remission, color photo

One moment I was wrestling with my toddler and rocking my 3-month-old to sleep, and the next I was staring blankly at the doctor who just told me I had stage four cancer that had metastasized from my uterus to my left lung and spleen. “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I smiled at the young doctor who had clearly never given this kind of news to anyone before. I looked over at my husband’s shell-shocked face as he rocked our baby back and forth in the baby carrier because I was still nursing, and we knew we’d be at...

Keep Reading

I Never Wanted to Be a Hospital Mom

In: Cancer, Motherhood
Toddler standing with IV pole, black-and-white photo

Life as a hospital mom is not a life for just anyone. You have no other choice, there is no get-out-free card you can just put down and say, “Nope, Lord, I do not want this, take it back.” My heart hurts 99 percent of the time. My heart hurts for my child and the pain he is suffering. A necessary evil to keep him on the side of Heaven’s gates.  My heart hurts from the unknown of each day. Will he eat? Will he thrive today? What utter chaos will be thrown our way today? Will there be vomit...

Keep Reading

Cancer Is Weird

In: Cancer, Living
Woman smiling, color photo

Cancer is weird. For 3.5 years I looked into the mirror and didn’t recognize the person looking at me.  First, it was scared eyes. My eyes had lost the look in them that made me feel invincible. I had learned I wasn’t.  A week or so later, I saw the cut on my chest for my port. Then it was a bald head. Then a bald, steroid filled, and puffed up faced person looking at me. RELATED: This is What Cancer Looks Like Sometimes it was a teary-eyed, defeated person. Someone who had been up all night in pain.  I...

Keep Reading

Please Don’t Let My Baby Die

In: Cancer, Motherhood
Toddler boy lying in hospital bed, color photo

I wasn’t made for this.  I am not strong enough. Lord, where are you taking me? Why does this joyful time, filled with our last baby’s firsts, have to be this way? Why did the doctors look at me that way? They know what’s coming, and deep down inside, so do I. The inevitable word that is about to come out of their mouths.  The C-word.  Cancer. It’s life-changing.  Almost as if it were a car accident. Believe me, I know about that. To be the reason behind a grown man hanging onto a thread. Completely unintentional. I just needed...

Keep Reading

The Art of Showing Up

In: Cancer, Kids
Dad hugging young son

As a father of four boys, you may imagine that life is hectic from time to time for me.  While it truly is, in fact, quite crazy sometimes, it isn’t always because of the reasons you might think.  I have four boys, ages 11, 4, 3, and almost 2, and that certainly makes for an interesting daily living experience for my wife and me.  We do our best to remain patient and lean on God’s strength and peace to fill us on the days that seem overly daunting and occasionally even downright impossible, but we are human.  Therefore, we fail...

Keep Reading

No One Prepares You for When Your Husband Has Cancer

In: Baby, Cancer, Marriage
Family sitting by window

No one ever prepares you for the moment you hear your spouse has cancer.   More so, no one prepares for you to hear this when you have a 5-month-old at home. “Mom, they said the tumor is cancerous, and they need to enucleate his eye on Thursday,” I say quietly into the phone as I pump in a dirty bathroom stall at the eye hospital.   Whir. Whir. Whir. Whir. Gosh, I hate pumping.  Today is my first day being away from my daughter. My mom is watching her while I made the trip to the eye hospital with...

Keep Reading

l Will Never Stop Missing My Sister

In: Cancer, Grief, Loss
Woman in red shirt

It might be 16 years too late to properly depict the depressive senses that engulfed my whole being when I lost my only sister Aurora to colon cancer in 2006. Painful flashbacks continue to fill my everyday life at the most inopportune moments that  writing about it might somehow alleviate my grief. I remember getting that random phone call from her one sunny day in September 2006 and how guilt automatically hit me. It had been a while since I last saw her. “It’s positive,” she said. Backed with years of joking around and playing tricks on her since childhood,...

Keep Reading

Having Cancer at 34 Taught Me How to Live

In: Cancer
Husband and wife on boat, color photo

This picture came up in my Facebook memories today. It took my breath away for a moment, just like it has for nine years now. It was the last picture taken of me before my midwife found the lump and my life changed forever.  The first time I saw that photo, I realized I didn’t know that woman anymore. She was naive. Laying there in the sun without any inkling that a cancer was growing inside her. Look at her—unafraid and without anxiety. Less than 48 hours later, she would be gone, replaced by someone who was afraid of each...

Keep Reading