Lessons from Cancer: Gratitude While There's Still Time
Be thankful now.Say while there is still time.
Cancer has been a brutal teacher. It's forced me to see life differently, to slow down and ask hard questions. There's a lot I'm still working through, but one lesson has kept coming back to me, especially this morning: the lesson of gratitude.
It sounds so simple, almost cliché, to say, "Thank God for what you have while you have it." But it's the kind of truth you feel in your bones when you've seen how quickly life can change. When you walk through a diagnosis that brings everything to a halt, suddenly, all the things you once took for granted look precious.
I think about the mom who feels let down by her son. He doesn't say "I love you" the way she wishes he would. Maybe he doesn't show affection or speak with respect, and it hurts. She wants more, maybe even deserves more, but what if the day comes when his voice is gone forever? Would she wish she had simply been grateful to hear his voice at all? Would she wish she had looked past the way he said things to thank God she had someone to say them?
Or the mother and daughter who snap at each other out of habit. It's their rhythm, their language, and neither one stops to think about how deep those little jabs can cut. They might not realize until it's too late that one careless word can stick, especially if there isn't another chance to apologize or say, "I love you." Death doesn't call ahead. It just arrives.
So often, we hold back the kind words. We withhold the blessing because we're waiting for a better moment or a bigger change. We think, "I'll say it someday." But someday doesn't always come.
I've seen this in my own story. My dad was raised in a world where men didn't show emotion, and "I love you" was something you didn't say. All through my childhood and into my adult years, he never once said it—not until he was old and his mind was fading. Then, in a moment of clarity, he pulled me close and finally said the words I'd longed to hear. Tears filled his eyes, and he got nervous, almost ashamed, and told me, "Please don't tell anyone. Real men don't cry." He tried to laugh it off, but I could see what it cost him. Deep down, he had always loved me. He just didn't know how to put it into words.
Sometimes, I wonder if that's true for so many of us. Maybe we strike back with sharp words or distance ourselves from those we love, not because we don't care, but because it feels safer to be tough. Maybe we're more like my dad than we'd like to admit. We feel deeply but hide it behind old habits, pride, or fear. We say things we don't mean, or we say nothing at all, thinking there will always be another chance.
But cancer has taught me there might not be another chance. One diagnosis, one accident, and one unexpected goodbye can change everything. All those words we meant to say, all the kindness we could have shared, are suddenly lost.
Even families fall apart over petty things. Jealousies, misunderstandings, or old wounds become tools the enemy uses to separate friends and destroy relationships. We forget that we were once the kid who wanted to break free, who said hurtful things we didn't mean, just to be seen and heard.
Today, if you have breath in your lungs and someone to love, even if they don't love you perfectly, thank God. Say what you need to say now. Don't wait for a funeral to send flowers. Don't wait for regret to teach you how to speak gently. Be grateful for the imperfect gifts and people God has given, and share your gratitude with them.
Because one day, it really will be too late. Gratitude is not just a feeling. It's a choice to see and say the good while there's still time. And that, I'm learning, is a gift you'll never regret.
If this stirs something in you, reach out to someone today. Don't let another moment slip by without gratitude and kindness. Life is too short to keep your love hidden.
Listen to today’s episode of Followed by Mercy
It’s easy to focus on where we fall short. But the beauty of Psalm 23 isn’t about how good the sheep are—it’s all about how good the Shepherd is. You can’t earn His presence. You don’t perform your way into His love. The Shepherd chose you. He bought you with His own life. And for believers today, the promise goes even deeper: God doesn’t just walk beside you—He lives within you.
Meet Brooklyn
Brooklyn Grace Young is the newest little light in our family. She arrived safely on July 16, 2025, a precious gift to our wonderful grandson, Dave, and his wife, Julianna, in Dearing, Georgia. Our hearts are filled with gratitude for her healthy birth and for the loving home she has been given. What a blessing it is to welcome her into our family.