Scripture: Hebrews 4:15–16; Psalm 56:3

This week, getting ready for my ninth mammogram since my cancer diagnosis, I realized that the “what if” still knows my address.

Nine mammograms. Eight years. So much grace. So many reasons to thank God.

And here comes “what if,” pulling up a chair like it pays bills here.

What if they see something?
What if I have to go through this again?

I trust God. I do. Apparently, my knees just need to catch up.

Even on my wedding anniversary this October 11, 2026, it was in the back of my mind. Because October 10, 2018—the day before our anniversary—was when I got my biopsy results.

Breast cancer.

That was the year our anniversary was sobs instead of celebration.

Dates have a way of remembering, don’t they? Here I am, grateful for eighteen years of marriage, and somewhere in the back of my mind is the memory of that phone call. That fear. Those tears.

I’m thankful to still be here celebrating. But I remember.

And God knows I remember.

We talk a lot about surviving cancer. We share the diagnosis, the treatments, the pictures, the testimony. But there is a part of the story that keeps showing up afterward.

The next appointment.
The next mammogram.
The waiting.

You can be going about your business, feeling pretty good, and then that appointment reminder shows up. Suddenly, your mind has packed a bag and headed straight to “what if.”

Mine certainly knows the way.

I know God doesn’t want me sitting around freaking out. I believe in the peace Jesus gives me. But He is also touched by my infirmities—and apparently, my knee knocking, too.

Thank God for that.

Because I don’t need another thing to feel guilty about. Being scared is enough without deciding that being scared makes me a bad Christian.

Psalm 56:3 says, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

When I am afraid.

That sounds like a place I know. And right there, in the middle of being afraid, I can choose to trust.

Sometimes that trust comes out in a song. Sometimes it comes out in a testimony. And sometimes it is just, “Jesus, help me. My thoughts are doing too much.”

He hears that prayer, too.

Hebrews 4 reminds us that we have a Savior who understands our weaknesses. We can come to Him for mercy and grace when we need help.

I am so glad I don’t have to get myself all together before I come. Because sometimes getting myself together is exactly what I need help with.

“Lord, I trust You. And I’m scared.”

There it is. Both things. No sense trying to dress it up for Somebody who already knows.

I’m learning that I can bring Him the fear as often as it comes. If I prayed about it this morning and it comes back this afternoon, I can pray again. God isn’t standing there saying, “Chelle, we already covered this.”

He knows what happened eight years ago. He knows why this appointment gets to me.

And He knows I’m going anyway.

That matters.

I can pray and keep the appointment. I can trust God and let the doctors do their work. I can ask somebody to pray with me instead of trying to carry every thought by myself.

My hands may tremble when I sign in, but I can still sign in.

My knees may knock, but I can still walk through the door.

I wish I could tell you that trusting God means every result will be what we want to hear. I can’t. I’ve lived through the news I didn’t want to hear.

But I can tell you that God met me there.

He met me in the tears, in the treatment, and in the days when I was tired of being strong. That is part of what I remember, too.

So when “what if” pulls up its chair, I have something else to bring into the conversation: the memory of how God has carried me.

If you are waiting for results, facing an appointment, or trying to get through something that has your knees holding a whole percussion concert, you can tell Him.

You don’t have to give Him the church answer.

Give Him the truth.

“Lord, I’m afraid. Help me trust You right here.”

Tonight, I don’t need to live through every possible tomorrow. I need grace for this evening. Then, when morning comes, I’ll need grace to get up, get dressed, and take the next step.

My knees may knock.

But by His grace, I’m still walking.

Prayer with me:

Lord, You already know what we’re afraid of. You know the memories behind it and the thoughts we haven’t said out loud. Help us bring all of it to You. Give us peace while we wait, courage to keep our appointments, and the willingness to let somebody help us. When our minds run ahead, help us come back to today. And if our knees keep knocking, help us keep walking with You. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Love, Chelle