20/12/2025
My Beautiful Church ⛪️✝️🙏
Reflection:✍️
At the beginning of this year my life took a very unexpected turn. So many nights I stared at my ceiling, tears rolling down my cheek, my heart racing with fear. It was like I could almost hear the ticking time bomb in my head. I stared into the darkness, longing for the light to break through my curtains. For months my life-changing diagnosis was like some noxious gas that I just couldn't escape; I was engulfed by words and places I just wanted ro run from.
For many months I was numb. It was like I shut down, like a computer that needed to reprogramme. But even in those depths of despair and fear, there was a flicker of light that I knew was there. Two days before my seizure, I asked a very good Christian friend of mine about her Faith. I wanted to know the role that God played in her life and how it had transformed her life so much. She was so keen to share this with me, but in that phone call, we only scratched the surface. She excitedly told me to phone her two days later, on a Sunday, when she would happily open up about her journey of becoming a Christian and finding God.
We never had that phone call. Instead I was sat in a hospital, waiting for a scan to understand why I had collapsed that afternoon from a seizure.
Twenty-Four hours later, a doctor stood at the end of my bed and delivered the earth-shattering news: I had a cancerous tumour in my brain. A void opened up and swallowed his words; I heard them but somehow they didn't reach my consciousness. My instincts of self-preservation pushed them away as I desperately waited for reassurance. The only thing I longed for in the hours that followed, was the comfort and familiarity of home.
A day later, when I did return home, everything felt different. I knew that life would never be the same. I knew that I would have to find a way to survive, a way of facing and dealing with a raging fear and the terrifying unknown. What is going to get me through this? How could I face each day, with the great weight of this dark reality clinging to my thoughts?
It was heavy for awhile, but then I felt the presence of something greater than fear; the presence of something beyond what I could see. This presence I knew was God. I knew that when I asked my friend about Him, two days before my seizure, it was a sign that I was, unknowingly at the time, seeking Him, almost calling on Him, and he too, had been looking for me, opening a door and holding out His hand. Knowing this gave me such peace, and a deep belief that He would guide and protect me, that if I called on Him through prayer, he would stand beside me and show me what his healing hands could do.
I started to look out of my window in the morning and thank Him for the gift of another day. I turned my face to the blazing light of the morning sun and felt a deep gratitude, like never before, that I could feel the warmth and the glow of those rays against my cheek. Glory be to God, my heart would sing, for here I am, taking in this beautiful moment with all my senses alive. How blessed am I, my heart cried out. So even though my storm was still raging, somehow it was calmed in moments like this, and the light of that morning sun, the light of God, shone through so brightly, that my Hope and faith lifted me and that raging fear was silenced.
My walks in nature also took me to a deeper place, a place where the sound of the birds drowned every other human sound and grew louder whenever I called upon the Lord. When I spoke to God, I realised that those wildly dancing trees that suddenly drew my gaze were his waving hands, his message that he heard me. Nothing was random. It was like a finely tuned world where something beyond the earthly realm was finding it's way to my heart. This might sound like some poetic nonsense, but when your heart is open, truly open, this beautiful wave moves you to see the world in a very different way.
One day, at the hour of twilight, I remember asking God for his help and I then I looked up, as if I wished he could send me a sign that he was listening. Through the smallest crack of a grey cloud, right in the middle of this hollowed out cloud, was a dot of light. I thought perhaps it was a plane, so I waited for it to move. It didn't. I closed my eyes and opened them again, and right above me was that same dot of light. It was unmistakably, a tiny star. This is not coincidence; this was God's presence, a light in my darkness, a sign he was there.
So is it just my faith that has helped me through this storm? No, it is the greatest blessings of my life too. My family and my friends and the goodness of so many human souls who have crossed paths with me on my journey.
My parents are 68 years old and the most loving, devoted, caring parents a child could hope to have. I have seen what unconditional love is; their love is the kind of sacrificial love that reflects that selfless act of Jesus who died on the cross for our salvation. My parents have shown that there is nothing they wouldn't do to save me. They have carried my burden too; the fear that has eaten away at me, has consumed them too. But in the face of it all, they have shown resilience and strength.
My dad has driven hundreds of miles to hospitals, both of them have sat for hours with me outside clinic rooms, and cancelled their own plans to be at my side. They've seen me at my worse, listened to me cry, watched me fall apart, and still kept their heads above the waves. They are quite simply, remarkable humans, and I am so blessed to call them my Mum and Dad. I am here today because of the sacrifices they have made, yesterday, today and always. But sadly, I have not shown them the thanks they deserve; I am not worthy of their love and yet I know how lucky I am to have them.
To all my friends: I want to reach out and embrace you in my arms. If ever you wanted to know what a true friend is, I would love you to meet mine. Every message, every call, every visit has shown how much they care.
So, after a successful brain operation, 30 rounds of radiotherapy, many tablets of chemotherapy and 21 rounds of hyperthermia, I am still here, days away from Christmas day.
This Christmas I will spend longer with those that I love, and hold them closer. I will pray to God for all that I have, and all he is doing to help me stay strong and keep fighting. I pray that all those battling cancer and facing adversity, will find a way through and hold onto Hope. Finally, I pray that in 2026, there will be a cure for GBM🙏
Merry Christmas my dear friends and a very happy, healthy new year🎄🌟❤️
