Learning to Be Still

 Psalm 46:10 (AMP)

"Be still and know (recognize, understand) that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations! I will be exalted in the earth."

I have never been very good at being still.

Even as a child, sitting quietly felt almost impossible. I remember my Grade 1 teacher catching me out of my seat after finishing my work, staring out the classroom window toward the playground. She would smile, shake her head, and ask if I had "ants in my pants." I've always laughed at that expression, but looking back, she may have been onto something.

Not much has changed.

Now in my fifties, Melissa is convinced I have ADHD—and she's probably right. My mind is constantly moving. If my hands aren't busy, my thoughts certainly are. Stillness has always been something I've resisted rather than embraced.

Yet for weeks, God kept drawing me back to the same verse: "Be still and know that I am God."

Those words became the heartbeat of a prayer retreat that my dear friend Crystal and I had the privilege of leading. I assumed God was preparing me to help others discover the peace found in slowing down long enough to hear His voice.

I had no idea He was preparing me for what was coming.

Then Friday, July 3 happened.

I opened my phone expecting to read another routine medical report. Instead, one word stopped me cold.

Cancer.

One of the four polyps removed during my colonoscopy had tested positive for cancer.

Just moments before leaving for Beulah Camp, I found myself glued to the couch, overwhelmed by one of the heaviest feelings I have ever carried. The fears that had quietly lived in the back of my mind suddenly became real. My sister Pam and I have often talked about the traits we've inherited from our parents as we've gotten older, but we had never talked much about the disease that took Mom from us. Yet there it was, staring back at me from my pathology report.

Cancer.

Over the next several days, I sought wisdom wherever I could find it. I asked questions of doctors, leaned on trusted friends (thank you, Catherine), spent countless hours in conversation with AI, and most importantly, received the prayers and support of the people who mean the most to me.

When I met with Dr. McKnight, the physician who performed my colonoscopy, she offered both hope and honesty. More tests were ordered. A referral was made to one of the best surgeons in the province. The news was encouraging, but the waiting had only begun.

And waiting has never been easy for me.

That's when God gently reminded me of the words He had been whispering into my heart long before I ever opened that pathology report.

"Be still and know that I am God."

Looking back, I don't believe God was preparing me to lead a retreat. I believe He was preparing me for the waiting that would follow.

Since that Friday, I've been learning that being still doesn't mean pretending everything is okay. It doesn't mean ignoring difficult questions or refusing to acknowledge fear. It means quieting the endless noise in my mind long enough to remember who sits on the throne.

The more I return to Him, the more He keeps bringing me back to the beginning of Psalm 46:

Psalm 46:1–3 (AMP)

"God is our refuge and strength [mighty and impenetrable], A very present and well-proved help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and though the mountains be shaken and slip into the heart of the seas, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its roaring. Selah."

The mountain may still shake.

There are still appointments ahead. There are still test results to receive. There are still questions that remain unanswered.

But something greater remains unchanged.

The doctor reminds me that I have many things working in my favour. Melissa reminds me that we will walk this journey one step at a time. My family continues to surround me with love in ways they probably don't even realize.

Most importantly, God reminds me that He has never stopped being my refuge.

So today I wait.

Not because waiting is easy.

But because I know the One who waits with me.

The storm may continue to rage. The mountains may shake. The waters may roar.

But I am safe in the refuge only He can provide.

Because I know...

He...

is...

God.