Four years ago, in that glorious lull between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I kicked back my recliner and opened my laptop to start a new writing project.

I hadn’t even begun when my college son walked in the back door. He’d finished his last day of work and was supposed to move out the next day to start at the university he’d had his heart set on for years.

“My back is killing me,” he said.

Honestly, as a mom to seven kids, I’ve heard lots of my arm-finger-stomach-head-back hurts, so I gave my standard advice: “Go get a hot shower and see if that helps.”

Minutes later, he emerged still dry, now crying from the pain. “Mom, I need to go to the ER.” I closed my laptop, tucked down the recliner and drove him to the nearest outpatient emergency room.

The ER visit was inconclusive and we followed with our family doctor the next morning. Surmising it was pulled muscles from a bad golf swing, the doctor talked about physical therapy and ordered an MRI.

But early the next morning, a Saturday, the family physician called. It wasn’t pulled muscles but a lemon-sized mass on my son’s lower spine. This explained the grueling pain that was growing worse, but we wouldn’t know more until we saw the neurosurgeon on Monday.

As I ended the call, a familiar fearful overwhelm began to close in on me. The same fearful overwhelm I’d had a few years earlier when I became a sudden widow and single mom. I’d shouldered all kinds of daily hard steps since then, but this news of a tumor flooded me with new fear.

As I got into the shower, a host of possible scenarios cascaded through my thoughts, and my tears flowed freely. What kind of tumor was this? What possible prognosis lay ahead? And, having just switched from traditional insurance to a health-care sharing ministry, would I have the finances to cover the medical care ahead?

As this paralyzing fear threatened to crush me, the practice of cultivating intentional gratitude rescued me.

When life fell apart after my husband’s death, I’d learned to give thanks in every circumstance. Overwhelmed by my grief, my children’s grief, countless decisions, estate work, single parenting, financial issues, household tasks and more, I was desperate to see God’s goodness in a life that felt bad.

Thanking God in the midst of grief

So a few months into grief, I opened my journal and recorded seven things I could thank God for. The next day, I wrote down seven more. And so began a daily practice of giving God thanks in circumstances I never wanted.

We’re not called to give thanks for all things, but to give thanks in all things.

That practice of day-in, day-out gratitude offered another option to fear as we faced this unknown diagnosis. While I didn’t know what lay ahead, I did know Who would go before us. Giving thanks in all things meant I could thank God in advance for what I did know.

I kneeled down under the spray of the hot shower, my tears still flowing freely, and began thanking God.

Thank you that you will provide every need in this.

Thank you that you hold our tomorrow and the next day.

Thank you that you love my son more than I ever could.

Thank you that you will walk with us in this.

Thank you that you have the wisdom we need to find answers for this.

Fear is not the only option

Where fear had been unraveling me, God’s supernatural peace now steadied me. I would make my son as comfortable as possible over the weekend and find a neurosurgeon to see him first thing Monday.

I could give you so many details where God tenderly took care of us through this—how we got an appointment on Monday when the neurosurgeon continued to say they had no appointments for weeks, how my son was moved to surgery the next day because of two patient no-shows (who doesn’t show up for neurosurgery?), how our pastor arrived to pray with us just as he was being wheeled out for surgery, how a friend happened to be the pre-op nurse, how with one phone call the university moved my son’s classes online, and how his proton radiation physician specialized in this exact tumor.

In the end, we learned the tumor encapsulated in my son’s spinal sac had burst, causing the tremendous pain. Though he was frighteningly close to permanent nerve damage, the surgery was successful and the tumor, though serious, was benign. My son returned to classes at his dream university and had proton radiation in our hometown the next summer. And my health care sharing ministry? They covered our costs, helped negotiate bills and prayed with me over the phone.

Everything I had thanked God for in advance, I witnessed God do in real-time.

Friend, we have another option to fearing the unknown.  We can thank God in advance for what we know He’ll do.

*excerpted in part from Life Can Be Good Again: Putting Your World Back Together After It All Falls Apart

Meet Lisa Appelo

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Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.

If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.

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If you would like to cultivate rhythms in addition to gratitude that will empower you live on mission in your neighborhood, check out Cultivating a Missional Life: A 30-Day Devotional to Gently Help You Open Your Heart, Home, and Life to Your Neighbors. This small book will help you make a big impact in your neighborhood as you learn to let missional living flow from the inside out. Get the 30-day missional living challenge free when you purchase the book.