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As the caregiver of a loved one who has been told he has about a thirty percent chance of surviving cancer, I don’t always have a lot of hope for a bright future, or faith in my carpenter friend’s willingness to heal. Although the doctors think that my young husband is managing the chemotherapy well, I watch him drift away into deep lethargy. His lips and fingertips blacken; his appetite dissolves; and the intermittent whir of the pump administering the drugs is a steady reminder that he is fighting for his life.

I find that sometimes in life, there’s just no light at the end of the tunnel because what I experience seems to belie the truth I have been taught and try to believe. Much like my pastors, family members and friends, I have had opportunities to point towards a good end on behalf of those who couldn’t see it for themselves. And now that I am on the other side, I see how important it is to have that reassurance; but, I have also come to realize the importance of embracing my experience of what I call ‘darkness’.

This darkness is as real to me as my faith to escape it. It’s futile to deny my husband’s thirty percent chance of survival, or that we are in debt and are oftentimes afraid. Instead, I have chosen to accept the condition of my life at this point as intently as I embrace the testimony I expect to have in the end.

Doing so has forced me to lean, with dead weight, on my carpenter friend for everything. He is my only light in this darkness. He is my only way out of this. He is the only one who can make my husband cancer free, cancel our debt and give us a second chance at life.

I know what I want, but I truly can’t see the light at the end of this tunnel – all I can see right now is Jesus. I think that’s enough.

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