“Passing though the Valley of Weeping (Baca), they make it a place of springs. The early rain covers it with blessings” (Psalm 84:6).

I wish I could tell you that every mountain will turn into gentle plains or accessible hills. I wish I could assure you that they will melt away before your very eyes each time you find yourself climbing one. I believe this is possible because it is God who spoke of these mountains in the life of Zerubbabel, the governor of Judah, appointed and empowered to help the Jewish exiles return to Jerusalem (Zechariah 4). It is the omnipotent God who can cause mountains to melt like wax (Psalm 97:5). It is our Lord Jesus who told us that with faith, persistent prayers, and times of fasting, we can move or overthrow mountains into the sea (Matthew 17:20, 21:21-22).

In His great wisdom, I also recognize that He may leave some terrain unexplored—mountains of obstacles, difficulties, or barriers that remain untouched, unmoved even when we plead for their removal. There will be pebbles along the path and steep hills to climb. Throughout my cancer journey, I have come to accept these realities, trusting that when God seeks to shape us to be more like Jesus, transforming our mindsets and redirecting our priorities, He does not always remove the mountain immediately.

His testing is profoundly beneficial because it teaches surrender and reliance, fostering deep gratitude—at the foot of the mountains, in their shadows, and within the valleys. My greatest joy was not finding myself in the valley, but hearing and trusting His promise that He will remain close to me in its depths and go before me as a Mighty Warrior.

One Wednesday afternoon, after dropping my kids off at music school, I headed home lost in thought about the challenging days ahead—months of chemotherapy and radiation. I looked forward to the time when I could truly rejoice and thank God for the victory, a joy untouched by treatments, uncertain test results, or side effects. That moment was not now, I told myself, but somewhere down the road. I turned off the music and radio talk shows, craving only to pray and listen to God’s Word through my Bible app. I opened Psalm 84, unsure where it would lead me but longing for His refreshing presence. Verses 5 and 6 caught my attention, pausing my thoughts and transforming my perspective on my ultimate victory and praise.

God was reminding me that I don’t have to wait until the final day of my treatment in November to praise and honor Him for the incredible work He is doing in my life. Those whose hearts and strength are anchored in the God of armies, whose minds dwell on Him and His Word, need not wait until they firmly stand at the mountain’s peak. No, His strength empowers our active faith to create streams of water as we journey through our valleys of weeping.

We find joy in the small blessings that greet us each morning, in every healing that builds upon the last, every victory over fear and uncertainty, and every pain that fades a little more. We celebrate the early rain as much as the late. Listening to this psalm again and again reminded me that only by abiding in Him can I grow from strength to strength, moving from timid, small steps of faith to bold, confident strides.

Only by pausing and dwelling can I truly appreciate the necessities and beauty of the valley I am journeying through. My favorite delicate flower, with its extraordinary fragrance, is the lily of the valley. It thrives in hidden, shaded places deep within the valley. On Wednesday, Christ reminded me not to overlook these valleys or rush to escape them, for they hold immense beauty. Like the lily, we grow in purity, faith, and quiet strength. We are transformed and bloom even in the lowest valleys, all because God’s grace is most powerful there.

“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me”.  (John 15:4)