A year ago, as Nate’s back pain escalated but before we learned that his greater problem was deadly cancer, I was distraught with worry. During the night, questions overwhelmed me:

1.  Will the back surgery help?

2.  How long will the benefit last?

3.  Will he be able to keep working?

4.  How many surgeries will there be?

5.  And at the end of the surgeries, what will life be like for Nate?

6.  How much pain?

7.  Will he end up in a wheelchair?

8.  Should I go job-hunting?

9.  Will we have to move again?

Questions swirled like gathering clouds along Tornado Alley, ruining many a night’s sleep. When morning came, Nate would pursue the same routine he’d functioned in for 37 years, getting ready for work and climbing on a commuter train to get there. But what had been automatic gradually became a white-knuckle effort motivated only by his strong sense of duty. As we paced through the September days leading to the discovery of his cancer, Nate’s work days grew shorter, yet he remained resolute. “I’ve just got to work,” he said one morning when his pain was especially high. “It’s my job to provide.”

Deep down I believe he knew that if he quit, if he stepped away from the fast-paced working mentality of his Chicago routine, his pain would expand to fill the void. As much as he was looking forward to retirement, “going to work” was what he did best.

As for me, my spirits lifted when I knew he was able to work, because it meant his pain was manageable that day. It meant he could still fight the good fight. But what about my torment of worry during the wee-hours? What could be done about that?

Gradually both of us had made things worse, Nate by over-working his debilitated body and me by letting anxiety dominate. As Nate’s suffering had increased, we’d fallen for the lie that he and I were in charge, a ludicrous notion. The only thing I could think to do was to pray Scripture verses over our situation and over Nate. It would bring help to him and would remind me to “cast my cares on God.” (1 Peter 5:7)

I wrote the verses in my journal and prayed them through with pen and ink, hopeful God would intervene dramatically in Nate’s life and by that, in mine. Today, from the vantage point of one year later, I studied these same verses prayed a year ago in desperation and am utterly stricken by how God took the words literally and answered each prayer in a spectacular way.

From the journal:

“Cause Nate to wait on you, Lord. Renew his strength so he’ll be able to rise above the pain, to mount up with wings like an eagle. May he run in your strength rather than his own, escaping weariness, walking through this trial without fainting.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“May Nate quickly come to you, Lord, because he is laboring under heavy burdens. May he find the rest you’re offering.” (Matthew 11:28)

“Please protect Nate from all harm. Protect his soul from evil.” (Psalm 121:7)

“Please give Nate hope for a positive future, even a new beginning. Until then, give him courage.” (Psalm 31:24)

And according to these verses and many others, God did every bit of it with excellence….especially the part about Nate’s new beginning.