Being in a season of waiting isn’t new to me, but recently, I’ve found myself in a different kind of waiting. In September of 2025 (not even a year ago), I started my cancer journey. That’s what I’m calling it. Because while I had a full thyroidectomy in December to remove the papillary and follicular cancer, healing still isn’t done. And in this time of healing, two of my family members were diagnosed with cancer. And I’m waiting to find out if I have cancer again. It’s a journey and a different kind of waiting.
Friends have asked me how I’m doing, and the honest answer is that I’m okay. It’s not because I don’t care, and not because I never think about it. It’s not because I have a guarantee of getting the outcome I want. It’s more because I’ve realized there isn’t much I can do right now except wait.
Appointments are scheduled. Results will arrive. The doctor will call. Whether I spend the next few days worrying or not worrying, the timeline remains the same. So I find myself in a surprisingly neutral place. Not anxious. Not carefree. Just waiting.
The more I think about it, the more I realiz that there are different kinds of waiting, and some seasons of waiting are harder than others.
Maybe this sounds strange. Wouldn’t waiting for medical results be one of the hardest kinds of waiting? Yes, absolutely. For me, however, there’s something about knowing the waiting has an end date.
The test is on the calendar. The results will eventually arrive. The doctor will call to explain the lab report. I don’t know what the answer will be, but I will and I know when I will. There’s a strange comfort in that.
What I find more difficult are the seasons of waiting that come without a timeline. The prayers that don’t come with an expected completion date. The hopes that don’t have a scheduled appointment. The questions about the future that don’t arrive with a promise that answers are just a few days away.
In those seasons, it’s easy to wonder how long the waiting will last. A week? A year? A decade? Will the answer ever come at all?
Those kinds of waiting test my faith far more than waiting for a phone call from the doctor. Because the hardest part isn’t always not knowing. Sometimes, the hardest part is not knowing when you’ll know.
Maybe that’s why so many people in the Bible struggled with waiting. Abraham waited years for God’s promise. Joseph waited through silvery and prison. David waited to become the king he was already anointed to be. They were waiting without a timeline, and that’s a different kind of challenge.
Waiting without a timeline requires trusting God with the outcome AND the timing. This past year, I’ve been learning to be grateful that God is present in both kinds of waiting. He is present when the answers are coming soon (whatever the answer may be), and He is present when the waiting stretches far longer than we expected.
As I write this, I can see the lab results of my biopsy on my phone. It doesn’t look good, but I also don’t know how to interpret them correctly. So I wait for tomorrow when the doctor is scheduled to call.
I wait, not perfectly or fearlessly. I wait peacefully with trust in a good God in charge of the outcome and the timing.