A She Chose Hope Story with Evelyn Sherwood
The Battle Begins
It’s been 13 years since the conversation that changed all our lives. But the details are as vivid in my mind today as they were then.
Mom had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. Surgery paired with chemotherapy and radiation was the plan, hoping to buy her a few more years with us.
We marched into the battle with a plan in place, hopeful. All went well with the surgery. Phase 2, the Chemo, was hard on her body, but we could see her strength regrouping.
The last leg of the battle was radiation, and we could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
But as we entered the final stretch, mom’s body began to fight against the radiation. She couldn’t hold down food or water, leaving her body frail.
Something wasn’t right, and we knew it.
Our anxiety mounting, we loaded mom into the car and headed to the
hospital. After many tests and her health rapidly deteriorating, the conclusion was, “We have no answers. We don’t believe this is cancer, but tests aren’t conclusive.”
We decided to move mom to a cancer center via ambulance in a neighboring state, with updated tests and state-of-the-art care.
A team of medical staff greeted her at the door and moved quickly to find answers, as the family watched in disbelief.
The Moment that Changed Everything
Two hours after her arrival, the moment came that changed everything. Everyone had stepped out to grab a cup of coffee, leaving mom and me alone in the stillness of her hospital room.
A gentle knock on the door jarred us from exhaustion. “Mrs. Steffes. It isDr.__. May I come in?”
“Is anyone else here?” he asked.
“No, just my daughter. The rest of the family stepped out.”
And with that answer, he grabbed the black round stool and wheeled it
around to mom’s bedside. He reached for her hand; his gaze fixed on hers. “Mrs. Steffes, after our
testing, we have discovered what is going on in your body.”
I held my breath.
“Our tests show your body is riddled with cancer. I’m so sorry.”
Holy Hush Moment
The room began to spin as the news hit me. But I was soon steadied by the
words I heard next.
Mom made a declaration that echoed Paul’s words from a prison cell.
“The confidence of my calling enables me to overcome every difficulty without shame, for I have an intimate revelation of this God. And my faith in him convinces me that he is more than able to keep all that I’ve placed in his hands safe and secure until the fullness of his appearing.”
2 timothy 1:12, TPT
As the doc held her hand and gaze, with an unwavering voice, she replied, “Doc, I know who I belong to and who holds my life. I trust Him.” With that, a holy hush hung in the room as tears gently flowed. “Ma’am, I
have never seen so great a faith.”
When Hurt and Hope collide
My mother and father gave their hearts to the Lord when I was a preschooler. I grew up knowing about the church, the Bible, and Jesus dying on the cross for my sins. The seeds planted in my heart by my parents led me to make a personal decision as a child to follow Christ.
I grew up watching God deliver us from many trials. But to witness faith in a God who walks with us through the heartache, trusting that He is working everything out for our good and His glory-this was different.
How can someone receive such news and walk in peace and hope?
My mother displayed a deeper level of trust in God than I had ever witnessed. Her darkest hour was becoming her finest moment.
Bedside Lessons
We moved mom and dad into our home so we could share the burden of her care. The doc called in hospice, and for the next six weeks, our house became a gathering place where family and friends shared stories and
shed tears.
As each day came and went, I prayed that I could love mom well. Instead,
what I received was a sacred gift.
Little did I know the legacy of hope mom was weaving each day. She gave
me a front-row seat as Colossians 1:27 came alive in our home.
“Living within you is the Christ who floods you with the expectation of glory! This mystery of Christ, embedded within us, becomes a heavenly treasure chest of hope filled with the riches of glory for his people, and God wants everyone to know it!”
Colossians 1:27, TPT
People would come to encourage her and leave feeling loved and seen, as she would pray over them from her hospital bed (positioned facing the front door of our living room so she could greet visitors.)
In the wee hours of the morning, when sleep escaped us both, it was commonplace for her to whisper, “Ev, go get a pen and paper. I have some names I want you to write down. These people are hurting and need
prayer.”
We watched and cared while she taught us to hope.
Legacy of Hope
She taught us that God’s peace trumps our pain if we learn to talk with Him about our hurts and then thank Him for His presence in the messy middle.
“Don’t be pulled in different directions or worried about a thing. Be saturated in prayer throughout each day, offering your faith-filled requests before God with overflowing gratitude. Tell him every detail of your life, then God’s wonderful peace that transcends human understanding will guard
PHILIPPIANS 4:6-7, TPT
your heart and mind through Jesus Christ.” Philippians 4:6-7 (TPT)
She demonstrated that until we take our last breath, God uses all our moments to paint a beautiful portrait of His redeeming grace.
And in her surrender to the faithfulness of God, she left a legacy of hope.
She could not have known then, but God did, that her legacy of hope would one day anchor me to hope through my cancer battle.
About the Author
Evelyn Sherwood is a trusted soul-care guide, speaker, and blogger who has served in pastoral ministry for thirty-five years.
Sherwood serves an active and growing audience through her blog, evelynsherwood.com, and her bi-weekly subscription devotional Hope for the Journey, encouraging her readers to grab hold of hope in the trials by helping them recall God’s work in their past.
Nothing puts a smile on her face more than sharing about the
faithfulness of God with a friend over a steaming cup of cappuccino or iced peach tea.
On a summer evening, you might spot Evelyn and her husband, Steve, driving through Indiana farmlands in a canary yellow ’47 Ford pickup or enjoying an outdoor movie night in their backyard with their eight grandkids.
