Yesterday, while reading a post written by my friend Christy (christythewriter.com), I came across this idea: “And that’s when I discovered how beautiful a void can be.” As the words settled in to my mind, I was whisked back to “The Void” of February 2016. After having been diagnosed with breast cancer at the end of January, I spent February in a strange place of nothingness. There was no sadness. There was no happiness. There was no fear. There was no hope.

There was just nothing.

I couldn’t pray. Me. The woman who transformed an entire room in her home into prayer central – The Quiet Room – couldn’t pray. The prayer warrior was without words, without emotion, without need.

There was just nothing.

Oddly, this time in my life wasn’t upsetting to me. In the nothing, there was really nothing. All I really longed to do was nest at home with my husband and my cat. Sure, I showed up for appointments with doctors, I scheduled the surgery, and I went to work. But, I just showed up for those things. What I reveled in was the nesting: arriving home from work and settling in to my place on the couch, blankets surrounding me, the cat in his chair, and my husband surfing the channels. The nesting was the only thing that filled “The Void” during those weeks.

When I read my friend’s words “beautiful” and “void” in the same sentence, I immediately remembered the nothingness and the nesting. I also remembered that I wasn’t bothered by the fact that I couldn’t pray. I still walked into my Quiet Room each morning and sat where I always sat to pray. I didn’t have anything to say or write or cry about. I just sat there. Sometimes just for a moment. Other times for long stretches of moments. I didn’t feel guilty that I had nothing to offer other than my physical presence. I didn’t feel love like I usually do when I sit there, and I didn’t feel bad about that either. I knew God was okay with me, exactly where I was at that moment.

And that’s the beauty of “The Void.”

When I had nothing, God was still okay with me. When circumstances left me prayer-less, God welcomed me to just sit with Him. When feelings were non-existent and nothing seemed to matter, God moved my feet, which carried me to where I needed to be. When tears wouldn’t fall to offer healing, God provided comfort through my bond with my husband and the presence of my cat.

As strange and odd and filled with nothing as those days were, I smile now as I remember them….and swallow back a lump of emotion that threatens to break free as I come to a realization. Perhaps the nothing was not really nothing. Perhaps the nothing was God’s way of protecting me until I was ready to face reality. By the time the day of surgery arrived, I had all my prayer warriors in line and ready to go. I was back to full-fledged faith and hope and fearless trust. The nothing was gone and the tenacity to fight had set in. When did that happen within “The Void?” I have no idea! Only God knows when He lifted the nothing, gently inserted reality, and provided all that I needed to face it.

“And that’s when I discovered how beautiful a void can be.”