I’ve always believed that God speaks to us in the ways we’re most likely to notice. For me, it was a mystery involving a cheap bathroom clock—a sign that He knew exactly what was happening to us and that we weren’t walking this path alone.
It all started around October of 2025. I noticed John’s breathing had changed at night. It was louder, heavier, and then… he’d just stop. He’d hold his breath, start again, and repeat the cycle all night long. Everyone I talked to brushed it off as sleep apnea, but it didn’t make sense to me. You don’t just “suddenly” develop apnea like that.
By early December, we knew something else was wrong.
John wasn’t feeling very well, and it hurt to swallow. Since it was December, we were sure it was the flu until he decided to look inside his mouth at his tonsils and saw a large mass covering most of the opening. When I looked, I was a bit shocked. I asked him if he’d ever had his tonsils out as a child because his right tonsil was largely swollen.
“No.”
“Well, maybe it’s tonsillitis.”
After a visit from the doctor, they sent him over to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital for an MRI and blood work, which was stupid because he wasn’t in any immediate danger. And how do we know this? It took a few more weeks to get results and to start care for him.
By now, you probably know what the results were. Throat cancer.
Cancer again. He had Melanoma about fifteen years ago, and after surgeries, removal of many glands, and chemotherapy, he’s been cancer-free, but trauma always comes with cancer. The deep, hidden thoughts of when and if and where it will silently start to grow again come at you periodically.
In mid-January, when we finally got the results, it took a couple more weeks to start radiation. This is the reason I say how stupid it was to send him to the emergency room, where they love to charge a lot of money just to sit for hours, creating anxiety while waiting and waiting and waiting- and we were no closer to an answer than if we had just gone home and made an appointment.
When John was finally told the results, I began to pray for God’s healing. I didn’t want to be mad. I didn’t want to be constantly sad, though it came in waves; I just wanted to trust God knew and would take care of us.
And I kept remembering our clock. This sounds like such a small thing, but in the middle of a storm, it was everything.
We have this bathroom clock on the wall. For at least two years, it ran fifteen minutes ahead. Early on, maybe twice, I reset it, but it would race to be fifteen minutes ahead again, as if it favored that pace. We just got used to it because no matter what, it wasn’t going to be an on-time clock. But we checked it all the time, getting ready for work, so it wasn’t ignored.
When John came home from work and told me his official diagnosis, it was a Friday. The next day, that Saturday morning, I glanced at the clock and noticed it was exactly on time. So, I called John in and asked, “Did you reset the clock?”
“No, I thought you did because I noticed it this morning.”
What? How?
We tried and tried to make sense of it. We had no one visiting who would have walked into our master bedroom to set the clock. We don’t have a housekeeper. There’s no way that it was changed by someone, and I guarantee a burglar didn’t slip in our house to change the time and then leave.
For seven days, that clock kept perfect time.
Seven days after that, it slowly lost time, and on the seventh day, it stopped.
After replacing the battery, it has kept perfect time to this day.
I know there are times when you wonder where God is. Why isn’t he taking care of things the way you want? Why does he take so long to answer? Is He even listening?
When John came home with the results, I distinctly remember the look on his face as he said to me, “The best thing you can do for me is to keep a good attitude.”
He knows very well I worry a little too much.
And that’s when I decided I would. I would pray, trust God, and pray some more…do what it took to keep things normal and moving along. I would speak life at all times-even when I saw John go two months without eating solid food and watch him shrink away. Even when he choked on trying to drink to the point of tears. Even when neither of us was sure of the outcome. And even during the last week of radiation, he was so weak he couldn’t work or hardly walk or even speak- I was reminded of the clock.
I would trust God’s plan for both of us…and keep a good attitude towards it all. What else could I do?
It’s May 8th, and it’s been over two weeks since his last date with radiation, and he’s slowly, very slowly, healing. When John rang the bell at the cancer center, it gave us some sort of peace that all would be well, but it didn’t mean he would be healthy right away and the next day life would quickly return to normal once again.
But it’s a new beginning, and we are hopeful and more aware of how precious life is. And, most of all, deep in my heart, I know God cares even to the point of simply changing our clock on the wall to let us know we are not alone.
Much love,
Sharon