God-given Strength

Standing on a street corner in downtown Pittsburgh, I made a desperate call to my mom. “I don’t think I can do this,” I told her. As a newlywed, I was not prepared to be a caregiver to my husband, Roger. He had been diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic melanoma and given a zero percent chance of survival. His doctors had sent us four hours from our home in West Virginia for an experimental treatment. With the treatment, his chances of survival increased to two percent.

We lived in family housing during the week and came home on weekends, and the constant travel was wearing on our hopeful prayers. Roger’s daily infusion left him shaking with fever, throwing up and in bed until the next treatment. He was completely helpless, and I was his only source of comfort. I was scared and unprepared for what it meant to be a caregiver.

“Mom, what am I supposed to do? I feel so lost and alone,” I told her. I was crying so hard I didn’t even notice a young girl approach me. But then she placed a small pocket Bible in my hand.

“This is for you,” she said.

As I thanked her, I realized God’s strength was with me even during times of grief. My hopeless words went from “I can’t do this” to “I can’t do this without Christ.”