God is My Anchor

A Story of Faith Through Overwhelm Written by Megan Cook

I sat on the bathroom floor, the positive pregnancy test in my hand. I had been sure I was wrong; after all, I couldn’t be pregnant!!! I had an IUD. I looked up at heaven, “Why God, why me?” 

I immediately felt guilty. I’d always believed a child was a gift, and I knew mothers who were fighting to conceive. How could I dread such a blessing? 

I stood up, dried my tears and went to tell my husband that we were expecting number six in eight years. My oldest was seven and going through testing for autism. My newly turned six year old had tried to hang himself with the curtains in his room, and we had started therapy for him. My almost four year old couldn’t handle changes, noises or textures. The two and a half year old wasn’t talking yet, and the one year old was getting into everything. To add to our crazy, my sister-in-law needed someone to take care of her, and we made the decision to take her in.

It didn’t take long for me to become overwhelmed, anxious, and severely depressed. I was unsure I could take on a sixth child, so I hit my knees and prayed, asking the Lord if I should pursue adoption. I felt inadequate with the five He had already entrusted into my care. I was sure that there was no way I could add one more to my circus and meet all of their needs. After I discussed all of my fears and concerns with my husband, he was quiet for a moment. Then he turned to me and said, “Hun, God entrusted us, and we need to trust in Him that we are enough to raise all of them.” He’d said the words I needed to hear to carry this child in faith.

My seven year old was officially diagnosed with autism level 1, and my six year old was diagnosed with proprioceptive disorder and ADHD. I was overwhelmed with the diagnoses; I didn’t fully understand them, and there was so much controversy about autism and ADHD being a cop out diagnosis for bad parenting and what treatments were best. 

I was grieving. I didn’t want this life for my children. I began to wonder if they were being punished for things I had done wrong or if I really was a bad parent. Why did my children have to have these hard trials? There had to be someone better fit to raise them. Surely they’d be better off without me. I was drowning. 

It was dark, and I could not reach God. 

I was an active participant in my church, served my family and my neighbors, and followed the commandments. I wasn’t perfect, but I was always striving to improve. I was praying, but I couldn’t find Him in the darkness. 

One day as I sat in my car waiting for my daughter outside of the therapy building, a mini van pulled up next to me, and a woman got out and walked into the building. A few minutes later, she came back out with a four or five year old who was yelling and kicking her. I watched as she struggled to transition him from therapy into the car and into his seat belt. 

As I watched her struggle, I felt overwhelming sadness. I sympathized with this mom; I knew that battle. Just two hours ago I had spent forty-five minutes convincing my four year old to get in the car to go to Gram’s house, and before that an hour to get her to stop playing to eat the mac n’ cheese she had asked for. 

That’s when it hit me: maybe my parenting wasn’t the problem. Maybe my 4 year old had autism, too. Suddenly for the first time in months, there was light. As I thought about getting her tested, the light penetrated the darkness, and I immediately felt overwhelming relief at having finally found God. I could almost hear Him saying, “Get her tested”. Her behaviors looked so different from my oldest that I hadn’t seen it. But He knew. God had helped me to see it in a way I’d understand. Months later, the diagnosis was verified. 

This moment that penetrated through my complete darkness was enough to help me start to see God’s hand. Life began to feel a little lighter. I began to notice when someone would smile at me at the store or when the woman sitting behind me at church played with my two youngests while I dealt with my four year old melting down because her clothes were driving her crazy. I started to find reasons to smile.

At 37.5 weeks, I delivered a baby boy. He ended up staying in the hospital for nine days and was sent home on oxygen and thickened feeds with no real answers. 

We were now at 50 hours of therapy and 1 to 2 doctors appointments a week. I was basically living in my car getting everyone to school, therapy, and doctors appointments. 

Around this time, my husband lost his local job. He is a truck driver and typically drives the 18 wheel big rigs and took the first job he was offered. He would drive out of state, spend two to three days on the road, then one night at home, and repeat this twice before he’d get 72 hours off, hopefully at home, as long as the weather played nice.  

I felt like I was drowning. I could see the light dimly through the murkiness, but I couldn’t feel God. I often found myself thinking life would be better for all of my family and friends if I weren’t in it. I knew it wasn’t logical and I was working with a therapist and on meds, but it all felt like too much and that I was alone.

About four months into this crazy lifestyle, we discovered we had a pest problem. We couldn’t afford an exterminator; that month, I had to choose between paying for the medicine our baby needed or rent, and I chose the medicine. We were given two weeks to get out. 

With my husband on the road, it fell on me to pack a five bedroom house somewhere in between taking everyone to school and appointments. We’d gone to our church for help and they’d given what they could in previous months, but this month we were on our own. I was told that they could not in good faith ask anyone to come in to help us in fear they’d take the pest home with them. 

I could hear the disgust in this man’s voice as he informed me the most they could do was bring us meals. I was bawling. I couldn’t even say goodbye. I just hung up, devastated. I felt utterly alone, angry and abandoned. 

At that moment, of the deepest agony, I felt what I imagined the 10 men who had leprosy would have felt. For the first time in my life, I could truly imagine how so many in the Bible felt: alone, shunned, and abandoned by my own people. In this moment of complete abandonment, I felt impressed to remember this feeling. He impressed on me the importance of helping others even when it makes me uncomfortable. I also understood the fear these church members had. I could see every side of the story and was able to choose to forgive them because they were human like me. Because Christ had atoned for my sins, my God had assured me that I meant something to Him, and that I could do this because He was with me. I looked back over the last 1.5 years and suddenly I could see God in all of it. 

This realization didn’t make our trials go away. We spent a month living in the front room of my parent’s house while fervently searching for a place we could afford. But I had found that God was my anchor. What felt impossible and heavy could feel lighter by turning my heart and life to Him. I began to know God for the first time as a loving Father. I wasn’t being punished; life was a journey that He lets us roll through. Looking back, I could see how going through these last two years had shaped and refined me into a more confident faithful woman.

Life became lighter and seeing his hand in my day to day became easier. I began to know God as a loving Father and Jesus as a loving Brother. They had become real to me. I felt His undeniable love for me; I was a treasure, and I could get through this. 

Life is so very hard. It’s slippery on a good day, rocky on a bad one, and some days are both. Through it all, I know He’s there, he’s got my back and He loves me.