Fifteen years ago today, when I was sixty-three years old, I heard words that split my life into before and after: bladder cancer.
Twenty-nine surgeries. Countless treatments. Twelve years of fighting. Three years of remission. And since January 2025—cancer free. In twelve days, on October 27, I will have another cystoscopy to see if I have remained free.
Here I am—celebrating anyway.
I did not get one battle. I got twenty-nine. I did not get a short storm—I got twelve years of thunder. And somewhere between the first surgery and the twenty-ninth, between the initial diagnosis and today’s anniversary, I learned something I desperately needed to know: God does not just show up for the crisis moment. He Stays For The Entire Ordeal.
He was there on October 15, 2010, when my world collapsed. He was there in the first operating room. And the eighth. And the twenty-ninth. He was there during the treatments I cannot count and the ones that blur together into an exhausting fog. He was there through three years of remission—that strange space between battle and peace where you are afraid to breathe too deeply. He was there in January 2025 when the words came: cancer free. And He will be there on October 27, whatever those results bring. He has been there every single day for 5,479 days.
Here is what fifteen years and twenty-nine surgeries have taught me: God Being In Control does not mean life is comfortable, predictable, or certain. It means that even when everything feels wildly out of control—when my body betrays me, when treatments fail, when I face another surgery, when remission feels fragile, when I am twelve days away from the next test—there is a Steady Hand On The Wheel.
I am living proof that God’s Control is not about preventing the storm or even guaranteeing the outcome.
It is about walking through it with me. Every single step. Every single surgery. Every single treatment. Every single test. Every single waiting period.
The cancer has not been in control. Fear has not been in control. Death has not been in control. God has been in Control. Through the battle. Through the remission. Into the healing. And through the watching and waiting that never really ends.
And I am still here. Fifteen years is a long storm. Let us not pretend otherwise. This has not been a quick trial that makes for a tidy testimony. This has been years of my life, countless moments of wondering if I had the strength for one more round.
I am seventy-eight years old now. I have spent a quarter of my life—what many would call the “golden years”—fighting cancer. These have not been my golden years. They have been my battle years. But they have also been years God gave me. Years I might not have had. And I am learning to hold both truths at once.And here is what cancer survivors know that others often do not: even “cancer free” does not mean worry free.” There is always another test. Always another scan. Always that voice in the back of your mind asking, “What if it comes back?”
But here is what my long storm has taught me: God’s Faithfulness is built for the distance—and for the in-between. His Presence is not a burst of inspiration that fades by Tuesday. It is the daily bread, the hourly grace, the moment-by-moment sustaining that carried me through twelve years of active battle, three years of cautious remission, nine months of being cancer free, and now these twelve days of waiting.
My endurance through the fight was not just human willpower. My peace during remission was not just relief. My freedom now is not just luck. And my ability to celebrate today, twelve days before my next test, is not just optimism. It is all evidence of a God who never left, never tired, never said, “This is taking too long—I’m done here.” He Stayed Through The Darkness. He is Here In The Light. And He Will Be There on October 27.
He is Faithful when you are fighting. He is Faithful when you are waiting. He is Faithful when you are healing. He is Faithful when you do not know what is coming next. That is not denial. That is not toxic positivity. That is faith.