It’s easy to look back on April through November of 2011 and say they were the worst seven months of my life. If someone asked me if there was one period of my life I would want to “do-over,” even now, almost five years later, I can easily say I would redo those seven months. I would say I would do more to help my mom, that I would be a better support system for her and my sisters, that I would be whatever mom needed whenever she needed, and that I wouldn’t run scared when things started looking dim. I could say all that and mean it with every fiber of my being, and I would, but I know I could not live up to my own standards, at least not on my own.

In all honesty, I look back on those seven months and I am fully aware that those seven months were indeed the worst of my life so far. I also know they could have been worse. We could have lost mom back in July when she was almost non-respondent and the doctors told us to prepare for the worst. We could have lost her a week or two earlier than we did, when, as far as we could tell, she stopped being able to recognize us; when she kept calling for her mom. A lot of different scenarios could have occurred that would have made those months even worse than they were. A lot could have happened, but it didn’t. Everything happened just as God planned.

When mom first told me she had been diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, I was heartbroken. As my world was falling about around me, I vaguely remember asking my mom why this happened to us and if she was angry. What she said shocked me. She said that she wasn’t angry at God because “after what Jesus went through [she could] get through this.” While her statement made absolutely no sense to me, in some ways it did. Mom was very much so grounded in her faith; it was what brought her out of some of her darkest days, brought her through the loss of her mom when mom was 18, what kept her going when it looked like the world was turning its back on her and her girls. Mom’s faith was never something I questioned; it was something I strived to duplicate. Hearing that Mom was not angry with God reminded me that I didn’t need to be either. After all, Mom was the one suffering and fighting this horrible disease, not me.

I know I could not have come through those seven months without my faith. I am ashamed to say that I wasn’t the support system my mom needed at times, that I would leave the house at night to visit my friend from church – to escape the fear and sadness that engulfed me at home. I’m ashamed that I didn’t sit with her during her last night; I’m ashamed I didn’t do more, but I know that was God’s plan. It pains me to feel as though I failed my mother, to wonder what else I possibly could have done. In my heart though, I know that there is nothing else I could have done. I followed God’s plan exactly as he desired, even without knowing it.

Thinking about May through November of 2011 is generally something I try to avoid doing because I don’t want to feel the pain. As I write all of this down in hopes that maybe my mom’s faith and her life journey will help someone in some way, I am granted more memories of those months, memories I didn’t realize I had blocked out. God gives me these memories back as He sees fit, knowing that when I recall these events I will be strong enough to handle them. I am proud to say that I am only strong enough because of my faith. Normally admitting my weaknesses embarrasses me but I have come to realize that in my weakness I am most aware of God’s strength. The call to write this book has not been easy by any means. It is only through God’s strength and guidance that I am able to put words to mom’s journey. It is only through God that I am able to cope with and understand why I have gone through all that I have.

I was listening to contemporary Christian music one night when a song that I have heard probably a hundred times really hit home. That song was Britt Nicole’s “All This Time.” She writes, “I remember the moment, I remember the pain / I was only a girl, but I grew up that day / Tears were falling / I know You saw me / Hiding there in my bedroom, so alone /I was doing my best, trying to be strong / No one to turn to / That's when I met You” Hearing these lyrics I see myself the day I learned mom was sick and the six months that followed. I see myself more scared than I had ever been, trying to hide my fear and be strong for mom and my sisters, because we all couldn’t fall apart at the same time. I feared that if we did, nothing would be accomplished. I know now how very wrong I was. It wouldn’t have mattered if we all fell apart because God was fighting for us, He was, and still is, our strength. I could have been afraid, been a little more human and a little less stoic and our world would have kept on spinning. It was not up to me to keep us all together, God was already doing that. I was just too scared to see it.