Sunshine spreads across the breakfast table, glints off my cereal bowl. I fish for oatmeal squares in milk then set down my spoon to read. The boys race in and out of the kitchen, clacking plastic swords as I move Elder Holland’s book to my lap:

“One of the unfailing facts of mortal life is the recurring presence of trouble, the recurring challenge of difficulty and pain… Though we have received great promises regarding the lifting of our burdens, the weight of them is still often ponderous while we wait for that relief. It was for just such days of opposition, such ‘times of trouble,’ that the biblical psalms were written” (3).

Already I am wiping tears. It began last night and continued after waking. Moments of weepiness as I placed dishes in the dishwasher, moved laundry, hung up a new towel before showering.

Yesterday, my Mother had an MRI to determine the status of a second brain tumor she has been battling since 2008. In the last twenty years she has had four brain surgeries, several rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, and a bundle of miracle years. While we thought the tumor was in stasis, recent imaging showed it is growing again.

For months she’s been having sensory seizures on her left side, and two weeks ago, one of those seizures left her without the use of her left hand, yielding symptoms similar to a stroke. She can raise her arm but cannot tie her shoes, button her shirt, or finagle the saran-wrap off a plate. A blood vessel growing inside her tumor hemorrhaged, increasing the pressure on her motor control center, resulting in left-sided weakness.

Her doctors are planning another attack on the tumor once the bleeding in her brain heals. Radiation for 4-6 weeks in combination with a triple drug chemotherapy. She will lose her hair again. And all this, not for the purposes of curing the cancer, but to buy her time.

On Sunday, Cecil Samuelson, who lives in my parents’ ward, told my Dad the church was in need of a physician to go to the Jerusalem Center for six months. Could he and my mother go? They would have to be ready in a week.

Oh, how my Dad wanted to say yes. He retired from 40 years of emergency medicine in January. They’ve waited so many years for this season of their lives. But the answer, of course, was no. My mom cried for half an hour after they got home from church.

She feels like an impediment, an obstacle, an invalid. We visited her that night and she admitted her grief, “I am sad,” she choked back the emotion. “Sad we won’t have more quality time together. There is so much we wanted to do.”

I sat on the couch next to her, hugged her hard, and cried.

*****

“Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help” (Psalm 22:1).

“Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink deep in the mire, where there is no standing. I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God” (Psalm 69: 1-3, 14-17).

Immersed in Elder Holland’s book, I read psalm after psalm. I couldn’t stop the tears. The psalmist was speaking what was in my heart, in my mother’s heart. I wilted at the kitchen table.

Gordon walked slowly to my side.

“Why are you crying, Mom?” he asked.

“I’m sad about Grandma,” I said. And then I gathered my five year old boys close and explained to them the new changes. Told them the path my mom would have to travel.

Gordon responded, “That makes me sad too, Mom. I wish Grandma could be like John the Beloved. And never die.”

I could hardly speak.

“Me too sweetheart. Me too.”

Then I tearfully explained to the boys what they could do for their Grandma.

“You know what you can do for Grandma? You can be a comfort to her. Whenever you see her, run right to her and give her a hug. She needs your hugs. Sit by her, hold her hand. Just be with her. And whenever we leave, give her a goodbye hug. A big hug. She won’t always be here for you to hug and you can’t pass up any opportunity to show her how much you love her. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” they said. And I cradled their blonde heads into my chest and held on, so tight the earth could pitch off its axis and I wouldn’t let go.

*****

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled… The Lord… will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble” (Psalm 46:1-3; 9:9).

Elder Holland explains in his book, For Times of Trouble, that “the primary purpose of the psalms is to help us grow brave by reflection, to help us exert the faith necessary to smile in trouble and gather strength from distress” (6).

I experienced that today as I read the psalmist’s words. So I bought my mom a copy of Elder Holland’s book and read sections to her as my sister scrubbed her kitchen floor.

“Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distress. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven” (Psalm 107:28-30).

Together, all three of us were comforted and strengthened.

How do we find comfort in times of trouble?

1 – We go to the Lord. We read his words. Words he loved, words he spoke. We kneel at his feet. We share with him our devotions, gratitudes, concerns, and pleas. We ask for his mercy then accept His will. This I have learned from watching my beautiful mother navigate a disease that will not be taken from her.

2 – We go to those who are like him. The pure ones. Those who are full of light and truth. Beings who know what it means to give love unfeigned. Today it was my children, my mother, my sister, and a best friend. They know how to comfort. They know what to say. They know how to endure.

Whatever sea of troubles you are sailing on, I know God is there. He is the master of all tempests. He can calm your storm. He can still the waves. I trust in his power and vigilant love. We may not get the answers we want, but we will always get the answers we need. I believe when we take our troubles to Him, we can know that nothing is random, and all things will happen as they should.

How have you felt the Lord’s comfort in times of trouble? Who else has comforted you? 

Anne Marie, thank you for sending me Elder Holland’s book. Your comfort arrived at the perfect time.