My Mountain Mover

Several years ago, I was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor called a meningioma.

Usually, these are harmless and removed.

Mine, however, decided to settle down in a place that surgeons don’t really want to visit.

So the plan became simple:

Wait and see.

Every year, I would go for another MRI. Every year, the report would come back with phrases like:

“Minimal growth.”
“Insignificant change.”

After enough years of hearing those words, it became strangely normal and routine. Even comforting. Just another thing tucked into the background of life.

Until this year.

This year, the growth itself was still considered minimal… but the direction of growth was not.

It has started creeping toward the central blood vessel running through the spinal cord.

And suddenly “wait and see” became:

“It’s time to do something.”

What’s interesting is the treatment itself.

You can’t really shrink it.
You can’t safely remove it.

And because of where it’s located, any symptoms or damage it causes would become permanent.

So the goal is to stop it before it ever gets that chance. The answer is something called Gamma Knife radiation. Which sounds terrifying and oddly sci-fi. 😅But in actuality, it is the least invasive treatment option.

When they told me it was time to move forward, I honestly thought that meant maybe sometime at the end of summer. 

It did not.

It meant: “Here’s our next available appointment… two weeks from now.”

Technology is incredible. The fact that this can be done as a one-day procedure with recovery at home is in itself, miraculous. While I’ve kept telling myself: “It’s not a big deal.” the reality is… it’s still brain surgery.

Last week, I stayed busy enough not to think too deeply about it. Between life and the wedding of my best friend’s daughter, there wasn’t much room left in my mind for fear or worry. 

But Sunday, I rested. And in the quiet… reality settled in. Surgery is this week. I am confidently trusting the Lord… but my mind has had time to wander. In the wait, I keep coming back to scripture for direction.

“Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." - Matthew 6:34

"Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." - John 14:27

My spirit has the answers but my flesh is anxious. Not faithless. Just human.

A little unsettled by the unknowns.
A little overwhelmed by the thought of downtime and recovery.
A little vainly concerned about things like shaved hair and scarring.
A little consumed with those irrational thoughts that whisper: 
“You need to get everything done before Thursday.”

As if the world will somehow stop turning if I rest for a moment to take care of myself. 

I’ve felt carried this week by so many who have stepped in to offer help!

The messages.
The check-ins and care packages.
The people who have simply said, “I’m praying for you.” and those who had shed a tear for me or with me with the smile and carry on kind of strength that they themselves have had through far worse diagnoses and procedures. 

I don’t take any of it lightly. God calls us to live in community and with intentional relationship with one another for moments like this. Moments where the body of Christ can show its power and strength! 

"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." - Galations 6:2

Family and friends have surrounded me with so much love and support, and I’m deeply grateful for every prayer spoken on my behalf.

There is something deeply comforting about knowing people are holding your name before the Lord when your own mind feels tired.

In the midst of all this, I received one card in particular that has resonnated across all circumstances.

It said:

“It’s not the size of the mountain, but the strength of your Mountain Mover.”

Again the Word spoke loudly in my time of need:

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed you can say to the mountain 'move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
— Matthew 17:20

This is not true because faith makes us fearless but because faith reminds us who's power is in us.

I think sometimes we imagine strong faith means never feeling nervous. Never feeling emotional. Never feeling shaken.

But Scripture says:

“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
— Matthew 26:41

Jesus Himself acknowledged human weakness. I don't have to minimize the reality of the mountain in front of me to know God can move it. I don’t have to pretend this feels easy in order to trust God with it. 

Both things can exist at the same time.

I can feel nervous… and faithful.
Unsettled… and trusting.
Weak… and still strongly held.

So, I have a choice of which way to lean this week.

I choose not to focus on the size of the mountain but on the strength of the One moving it.

The truth is, this was never in my control to begin with.

Not when it was first discovered.
Not during the years of waiting.
And not now.

God has been faithful in every season of it and He will continue to be faithful on Thursday. - Hebrews 13:8

What mountain in your life feels bigger now that it’s no longer theoretical—and how might God be inviting you to trust Him with the reality of it? How can you lean into the community He has given you to stregthen and encourage? 

Lord, thank You for being faithful in every season, even the ones that feel uncertain or overwhelming. When my flesh feels weak, remind me that You are strong. Help me trust You not just with the big outcomes, but with the quiet fears and unknowns too. Thank You for carrying me long before I realized I needed to be carried. Amen.

Until next time, keep following the Plott, and I will be praying for us all. 💛