“When the Clock Strikes: It’s Time to Embrace Life’s Interruptions”

I know the world is filled with millions of infections and sicknesses. Many are incurable, leaving families and individuals grappling with uncertainty and pain. But I want to speak about one that has hit home to many, including my own family. It’s the season for family and togetherness, yet how often do we forget those who have lost loved ones and those who are on the brink of losing themselves? How often do we overlook the family members who sit with their loved ones through long nights and grueling treatments? And how often do we forget the trauma carried by those who survived the shattering moment of hearing, *“You have cancer.”

This year, that word has taken on new weight for me. I lost my sister Jessica to cancer, a loss that left behind her children and a hole in our hearts. It was difficult to hear the news, difficult to watch her battle, and difficult to say the word itself. A dear friend of mine also received the diagnosis, and yet, in the midst of his fight, he has encouraged me. Then there’s my “other mother,” a survivor who embodies resilience and hope, who has also encouraged me to write this. Their journeys, though marked with pain, have taught me so much about love, faith, and the fleeting nature of time.

Hearing the words “You have cancer” is like the sound of a clock striking—a sudden, unavoidable chime that changes everything. It feels as though the world freezes for a moment, even as the clock keeps ticking. Life moves forward, but in those moments, everything shifts. It’s here that I find meaning in the familiar nursery rhyme, Hickory Dickory Dock. It may seem like an unusual place to draw comfort and wisdom, but it carries a metaphorical richness that speaks to the human experience of navigating illness and trauma.

The clock represents time itself—unrelenting, constant, impartial. For someone living through a cancer diagnosis, it can feel like time has been divided into before and after. What once seemed endless now feels finite. Each tick becomes a reminder of the moments yet to come and those that have already passed. But the clock also holds hope. Every moment, every hour is a gift—a chance to reflect, to love, to heal, and to find purpose even in the pain.

The mouse scurrying up and down the clock symbolizes the sudden and chaotic disruptions in life. It enters uninvited, upending everything. In this context, the mouse is the diagnosis itself—a force that stirs fear, forces change, and challenges faith. Its unpredictable movement mirrors the mental and emotional toll of the journey. Yet, each time the mouse descends the clock, there’s a chance to pause, breathe, and lean on God’s promises.

Healing from the trauma of a cancer diagnosis, or being a loved one walking through it, is deeply personal and unique to each party involved.

For the person diagnosed, healing begins with accepting the reality of their emotions. It’s okay to feel fear, sadness, anger, or confusion—these are natural responses to the weight of the diagnosis. Healing means finding spaces for those emotions, whether through prayer, therapy, journaling, or talking with trusted friends. Build a support system and lean on it. Allow yourself to embrace moments of hope, and take one day at a time, knowing that God walks every step with you.

For family members and caregivers, healing often means navigating feelings of helplessness. Watching someone you love face cancer can feel overwhelming, but healing comes through simple acts of presence—holding their hand, listening without offering solutions, and creating moments of normalcy amid the chaos. Take care of your own emotional and mental health as well; seek support groups or counseling and give yourself grace to rest and recharge.

For survivors, healing is often about making peace with the scars—both physical and emotional—and redefining life after the diagnosis. Survivors may feel the weight of “Why me?”—a mixture of gratitude and survivor’s guilt. Healing comes from using that experience to inspire and uplift others, to show that even in the darkest seasons, there is hope and purpose.

The ticking clock can be overwhelming, feeding anxiety and despair. The mouse running up and down may feel like the unrelenting thoughts that plague the mind. But Jesus invites us to rest in His timing: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34). God is the master clockmaker, holding time and eternity in His hands. Even when life feels out of control, He is shaping us, using even the hardest moments for His glory and our good.

This season, let us remember those who are battling illness and those who sit beside them in love and care. Reach out. Call them. Pray for them. Let them know they are not forgotten. Let us also take stock of our own lives. Are there relationships we need to restore? Do we need to forgive someone? Have we shown our loved ones how deeply we care? Each tick of the clock is a call to action, a reminder that love is the most precious gift we can give.

As the nursery rhyme concludes—Hickory Dickory Dock—it circles back to where it began, reflecting the continuity of life even in disruption. While the mouse may run and the clock may strike, there is a greater truth: God remains steadfast. He is with us in every moment, offering hope, healing, and peace. Let this be the season where we pause, reflect, and embrace the time we have, knowing that even in the hardest moments, we are held by the eternal Clockmaker.

-Jermy Arnold