My Caregiver Journal 10 Confessions of Faith, Fear and Family

The Dance That Prepared Me 

The Dance That Prepared Me 

God was preparing me, and I didn’t even know it. In 2012, while attending College. I auditioned for a dance piece and made it. Though I’m not technically trained, I can dance. There was a lead role, and to my surprise, I got it. The dance was about the lead losing the matriarch of their family. The family begins to fall into disarray and panic, but the lead remains at peace, touching family members and helping them find peace too. I now understand why God allowed me to be part of that dance. It prepared me for what was to come in 2015. 

Best friend, Biggest Fan, Superhero 

My mother is my best friend. Every time I wrote a song, she was the first person I’d call. She was my biggest fan, my loudest cheerleader, and when life felt confusing, she helped me navigate it. We’d spend hours talking about God and how He was moving in our lives. She lived in Virginia; I lived in California. We didn’t see each other often, but we called each other almost every day. When she lived in California, she’d always tell me, “You should date the Pastor’s son.” I’d roll my eyes and say, “I don’t want to date no Pastor’s son.” His name is Brandon. He helped my mom with her computers, and she adored him. Well, one day, I met the Pastor’s son. And guess what? I married him. Turns out, Mom was right. She was right about a lot of things. She was my superhero. 

The Decline Begins

In April 2015, I got a phone call that changed everything. My mom was diagnosed with cancer. She was strong in her faith, believing for healing, but as the months went by, her behavior started to change. She withdrew from family, became suspicious of loved ones, and refused to see her doctors. It was heartbreaking. I tried to reason with her, but it only led to arguments. She even posted our conversation on Facebook, saying no one was going to tell her what to do. I was devastated. Her calls became less frequent, and my dad's calls increased. He was worried. The cancer was affecting her mind. One day she was in Virginia, the next time she was in Atlanta, and I had no idea how she got there. My first instinct was to get on a plane and bring her home. But as I prayed, God told me to wait. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Family and friends kept saying, “You need to go get your mother.” To them, it looked like I didn’t care. But I had to make a choice: listen to the voices around me or listen to God, even when His instructions didn’t make sense or seem fair. Waiting isn’t easy. It makes you feel helpless. But sometimes, obeying God means staying still, even when everything in you wants to move. 

Where Did My Superhero Go? 

I had a dream that my husband and I would be part of my mother’s healing, and that she would come to me. But when she arrived, I would be frozen, unable to move, and my husband would have to handle everything. In July 2015, that dream came true. My uncle Arthur picked her up from the airport and called me to come immediately. When I saw her, I was in shock. She was frail, crying like a baby, and speaking like a two-year-old. I was paralyzed. My husband had to tell me what to do because I couldn't function. Where was my superhero? Who was this person in her place?  

 The Caregiver’s Reality 

From that moment, I became her caregiver. I took her to Harbor General in Los Angeles. Despite not having insurance, they provided emergency coverage and confirmed her stage 3 uterine cancer. The surgery was urgent. That night, she was in so much pain, but Los Angeles was almost an hour away from where I live, so I took her to Hoag Hospital. Because of the emergency insurance from Harbor and how fast they were putting her in the healthcare system, she was able to get the surgery, but the doctors couldn’t remove the cancer. Chemotherapy was the next step. 

Forgiveness is Essential

During this journey, I had to forgive my mom. I was angry that she didn’t seek treatment earlier. My father-in-law, Major, caught me in a moment of frustration. I hadn’t said a word to him, but he walked right up to me and, out of the blue, said, “You forgive her right now.” That wasn’t Major speaking, that was God speaking through him. In that moment, I chose to forgive. It was necessary for what was ahead of me. 

I’ll Wait 

Navigating the healthcare system was overwhelming. I needed to get additional assistance for Mom. When I arrived at the medical office that could help, I was told the person I needed to speak with was in a meeting. I simply said, “I’ll wait.” I didn’t care how long it would take. I was focused on handling what needed to be done for Mom.  I sat there for four hours, waiting for assistance. When it was finally my turn, the representative shared with me that she had lost both her mother and brother to cancer. She understood what I was going through and made sure my mom had full insurance coverage before I left that day. 

If I had walked out and given up, I would have had to wait weeks, maybe even months, to get what my mom needed. Four hours felt like a long time in the moment, but leaving would have cost me even more time. Waiting was worth it. 

Moments of Joy: Tennis and a Birthday Party 

Even during caregiving, we found joy. Mom always wanted a birthday party, so in September, we celebrated her July birthday. Family and friends came to see her. It was a beautiful day. Mom also wanted to play tennis. I called my dad, and he sent us rackets. I am terrible at sports, but every morning we played. She was only 40% healthy, but her spirit was determined. These moments brought life back to her eyes. 

Seeing Beyond What I Could See 

One Friday night, I laid my head on my husband, and I just broke down crying. I wanted to know if God was going to heal my mom. Brandon said something that stuck with me “Life and death are up to God.”  

He then had me lay on the bedroom floor and asked, “What do you see?” 

I said, “I see the bed, the TV, and the wall that was in front of me.” 

He asked, “Can you see anything beyond that?” 

I said, “No.” 

Then he took me outside on the patio in the dark, sat me down and had me look down and said, “What do you see now?” 

I said, “Nothing but the ground.” 

Then he told me to stand up and look up. 

That’s when I saw the stars, the moon, a view so much bigger than my limited perspective. Brandon said, “Sometimes we have to rise above what only we see in order to see what God sees.” 

Y’all! I went to church that Sunday, and a lady named Luane came up to me and said, “Life and death are up to God.” There was no way she could have known what Brandon had told me a few nights before. That was God confirming His word through her. 

When Healing Doesn’t Look Like Healing 

Despite our efforts, mom’s health continued to decline. Radiation followed chemotherapy, but she grew weaker. I found myself carrying her up and down the stairs, bathing her, and changing her. I was doing everything I knew how to do, yet it felt like nothing was working. I kept asking God, “What are you doing? I thought you were going to heal her.” 

I wrestled hard with the question: What’s the point of having faith when she’s dying anyway? I prayed, I believed and I stood on every promise I knew. But the healing I prayed for didn’t come the way I wanted. 

Over time, I came to understand that faith isn’t a magic wand to fix everything. It’s the anchor that keeps you steady when life doesn’t go as you hoped. Faith didn’t stop me from feeling the pain, but it stopped the pain from consuming me. 

Eventually, the doctors told us there was nothing more they could do. I remember breaking down in the bathroom, crying out to God, asking if I was praying wrong.

The Holy Spirit gently said, “Get up. She’s in the next room.” That moment changed everything. It reminded me that my time with her was precious. I had been so focused on the outcome that I almost missed the beauty of simply being present. 

One evening, I asked my mom if there was anyone she needed to forgive. We sat together and prayed, listing the names and releasing them to God. That night, a different kind of healing happened, a healing of her heart. And that, too, was an answer to prayer. 

God didn’t heal my mother’s body, but He healed our relationship. He gave me time to serve her, to love her, and to walk with her to the finish line. He surrounded me with people who spoke life into me when I felt empty. And even in her final moments, God showed up. 

Faith didn’t take away the loss, but it gave me the strength to face it. 

Faith gave me peace in the middle of the storm, not an escape from it. 

Mom Made Sure I Wasn’t Alone 

Mom’s strength was her ability to organize anything. That was her gift. On her last day in the hospital, the medication was high because of her pain, and she wasn’t coherent. I left mom at the hospital that day to prepare the house for hospice. But somehow, even in her condition, she managed to reach out to my Uncle Arthur and tell him to come to the house. I had no idea they were coming. 

Just minutes before they arrived, I got a call from the hospital letting me know that Mom had passed away. Right after I hung up the phone, Uncle Arthur and Aunt Ruth rang my doorbell. Even in her pain, even when she wasn’t fully coherent, Mom still managed to organize it so that I wouldn’t be alone when I got the news. That was her gift, right until the very end. 

As the funeral approached, I found myself being the one comforting others. But when the noise stops, when everyone went home, it was just me and God. That’s when my healing process really began. 

10 Confessions of a Caregiver 

Confession #1: Even when you’ve done your best, the enemy will try to steal your peace. I had nightmares about my mom dying for months. My husband prayed for me until they stopped. 

Confession #2: After mom passed, I didn’t want to see anyone. But God sent a friend who handed me an envelope with $400—the exact amount we were short on rent. 

Confession #3: I truly wanted to cancel a job interview, but I decided to go anyway. I was offered the position and remained at that job for almost six years. Sometimes, blessings come when you show up despite how you feel. 

Confession #4: My family grew closer through it all. We became a team, leaning on each other during the hardest moments. My Aunt Ann reminded me never to shut my husband out but to invite him to take this journey with me and let him be part of my healing process. 

Confession #5: Caregiving will exhaust you. There were times I cried out to God, asking how much longer.  

Confession #6: Grief is a process with no shortcuts. I reminded myself to keep living. 

Confession #7: My identity was tied to my mom. After she passed, I had to rediscover who I was. I had to speak life into myself. I am confident. I am more than a conqueror. I am a child of the King. 

Confession #8: The people I expected to help didn’t show up, but I’ve learned not to waste energy on bitterness. God sent exactly who and what I needed. 

Confession #9: I learned that it’s okay to tell God you are upset with Him. He can handle it. He’s not offended by our honesty. God would rather have our real, raw feelings than for us to pretend we’re okay when we’re not. 

Confession #10: I had never cared for a seriously ill person before. I wanted to run away, not because I didn’t want to care for her, but because I was afraid. Afraid of failing. But I did it afraid and God was with me every step of the way. 

Silent Tears My Song for You 

As I was processing everything, I went through in this caregiving journey, I found myself writing a song called “Silent Tears.” It’s a reflection of the quiet moments when I was breaking inside but still holding on to faith. The moments when my prayers were silent but constant. The moments when no one could see my tears, but God did. 

I recorded “Silent Tears” live in concert after this chapter of my life. Every lyric is a piece of my heart. I want to invite you to listen to it, and I pray it brings you comfort, hope, and the reminder that you are not alone. 

I know your story may not look exactly like mine. The outcome may be very different. But what I can promise you is this: God will be there for you, just like He was for me, no matter the situation. He’s faithful. He’s present. And He can handle every tear, even the ones no one else sees. 

Take a moment to enjoy this song, and when you're done, I’d love for you to come back and read the Acknowledgements. I have some special thank you’s I want to share. 

 Click Here to watch the Live Recording of Silent Tears by Ki Johnson 

Gratitude and Acknowledgements 

This journey was the most beautifully hard thing I have ever done. 

I encourage you to look for God in your journey. He is there, and He will not leave you. 

Thank you, Mildred, for being there for Mom and me. Auntie Jean, thank you for guiding me. Aunt Ann, my Obie One, thank you for always being just a phone call away. Uncle Arthur, Aunt Ruth, and Aunt Louise, thank you for showing up when we needed you. Nurse Shirley, I appreciate you so much. To every family member who supported us, thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Thank you to my Dad, David, for letting me care for Mom. We were a team. Together, we made sure she had everything she needed. I’ll always be grateful that we did this together.  Thank you to my brother Raymond, I love you!

To my husband, Brandon, there are no words that can express how thankful I am for you. You carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. 

To my children, Juston, Morgan, and Matthew, thank you for helping, for being patient, and for standing with me through it all. 

Thank you, Pat (Momma Pat), for sharing this scripture with me. It truly helped me in my journey: 

James 1:2-4 (NIV): 

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” 

Those words reminded me that even in the hardest moments, God was refining me. The trials weren’t just hardships, they were shaping my faith, building my perseverance, and preparing me for the next season. 

I hope my story encourages you. 

To God be the glory. There is absolutely no way I could have done this without Him. He loved me, guided me, carried me, and never let me go. 

 A Caregiver’s Prayer 

Lord, give me strength when I feel weak, 

Patience when I feel overwhelmed, 

And peace when my heart is heavy. 

Help me to love, even when I’m tired, 

To serve with grace, even when it’s hard, 

And to remember that I am never alone. 

Be my comfort, my guide, and my rest. 

Amen. 

God was preparing me, and I didn’t even know it. In 2012, while attending College. I auditioned for a dance piece and made it. Though I’m not technically trained, I can dance. There was a lead role, and to my surprise, I got it. The dance was about the lead losing the matriarch of their family. The family begins to fall into disarray and panic, but the lead remains at peace, touching family members and helping them find peace too. I now understand why God allowed me to be part of that dance. It prepared me for what was to come in 2015. 

Best friend, Biggest Fan, Superhero 

My mother is my best friend. Every time I wrote a song, she was the first person I’d call. She was my biggest fan, my loudest cheerleader, and when life felt confusing, she helped me navigate it. We’d spend hours talking about God and how He was moving in our lives. She lived in Virginia; I lived in California. We didn’t see each other often, but we called each other almost every day. When she lived in California, she’d always tell me, “You should date the Pastor’s son.” I’d roll my eyes and say, “I don’t want to date no Pastor’s son.” His name is Brandon. He helped my mom with her computers, and she adored him. Well, one day, I met the Pastor’s son. And guess what? I married him. Turns out, Mom was right. She was right about a lot of things. She was my superhero. 

The Decline Begins

In April 2015, I got a phone call that changed everything. My mom was diagnosed with cancer. She was strong in her faith, believing for healing, but as the months went by, her behavior started to change. She withdrew from family, became suspicious of loved ones, and refused to see her doctors. It was heartbreaking. I tried to reason with her, but it only led to arguments. She even posted our conversation on Facebook, saying no one was going to tell her what to do. I was devastated. Her calls became less frequent, and my dad's calls increased. He was worried. The cancer was affecting her mind. One day she was in Virginia, the next time she was in Atlanta, and I had no idea how she got there. My first instinct was to get on a plane and bring her home. But as I prayed, God told me to wait. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Family and friends kept saying, “You need to go get your mother.” To them, it looked like I didn’t care. But I had to make a choice: listen to the voices around me or listen to God, even when His instructions didn’t make sense or seem fair. Waiting isn’t easy. It makes you feel helpless. But sometimes, obeying God means staying still, even when everything in you wants to move. 

Where Did My Superhero Go? 

I had a dream that my husband and I would be part of my mother’s healing, and that she would come to me. But when she arrived, I would be frozen, unable to move, and my husband would have to handle everything. In July 2015, that dream came true. My uncle Arthur picked her up from the airport and called me to come immediately. When I saw her, I was in shock. She was frail, crying like a baby, and speaking like a two-year-old. I was paralyzed. My husband had to tell me what to do because I couldn't function. Where was my superhero? Who was this person in her place?  

 The Caregiver’s Reality 

From that moment, I became her caregiver. I took her to Harbor General in Los Angeles. Despite not having insurance, they provided emergency coverage and confirmed her stage 3 uterine cancer. The surgery was urgent. That night, she was in so much pain, but Los Angeles was almost an hour away from where I live, so I took her to Hoag Hospital. Because of the emergency insurance from Harbor and how fast they were putting her in the healthcare system, she was able to get the surgery, but the doctors couldn’t remove the cancer. Chemotherapy was the next step. 

Forgiveness is Essential

During this journey, I had to forgive my mom. I was angry that she didn’t seek treatment earlier. My father-in-law, Major, caught me in a moment of frustration. I hadn’t said a word to him, but he walked right up to me and, out of the blue, said, “You forgive her right now.” That wasn’t Major speaking, that was God speaking through him. In that moment, I chose to forgive. It was necessary for what was ahead of me. 

I’ll Wait 

Navigating the healthcare system was overwhelming. I needed to get additional assistance for Mom. When I arrived at the medical office that could help, I was told the person I needed to speak with was in a meeting. I simply said, “I’ll wait.” I didn’t care how long it would take. I was focused on handling what needed to be done for Mom.  I sat there for four hours, waiting for assistance. When it was finally my turn, the representative shared with me that she had lost both her mother and brother to cancer. She understood what I was going through and made sure my mom had full insurance coverage before I left that day. 

If I had walked out and given up, I would have had to wait weeks, maybe even months, to get what my mom needed. Four hours felt like a long time in the moment, but leaving would have cost me even more time. Waiting was worth it. 

Moments of Joy: Tennis and a Birthday Party 

Even during caregiving, we found joy. Mom always wanted a birthday party, so in September, we celebrated her July birthday. Family and friends came to see her. It was a beautiful day. Mom also wanted to play tennis. I called my dad, and he sent us rackets. I am terrible at sports, but every morning we played. She was only 40% healthy, but her spirit was determined. These moments brought life back to her eyes. 

Seeing Beyond What I Could See 

One Friday night, I laid my head on my husband, and I just broke down crying. I wanted to know if God was going to heal my mom. Brandon said something that stuck with me “Life and death are up to God.”  

He then had me lay on the bedroom floor and asked, “What do you see?” 

I said, “I see the bed, the TV, and the wall that was in front of me.” 

He asked, “Can you see anything beyond that?” 

I said, “No.” 

Then he took me outside on the patio in the dark, sat me down and had me look down and said, “What do you see now?” 

I said, “Nothing but the ground.” 

Then he told me to stand up and look up. 

That’s when I saw the stars, the moon, a view so much bigger than my limited perspective. Brandon said, “Sometimes we have to rise above what only we see in order to see what God sees.” 

Y’all! I went to church that Sunday, and a lady named Luane came up to me and said, “Life and death are up to God.” There was no way she could have known what Brandon had told me a few nights before. That was God confirming His word through her. 

When Healing Doesn’t Look Like Healing 

Despite our efforts, mom’s health continued to decline. Radiation followed chemotherapy, but she grew weaker. I found myself carrying her up and down the stairs, bathing her, and changing her. I was doing everything I knew how to do, yet it felt like nothing was working. I kept asking God, “What are you doing? I thought you were going to heal her.” 

I wrestled hard with the question: What’s the point of having faith when she’s dying anyway? I prayed, I believed and I stood on every promise I knew. But the healing I prayed for didn’t come the way I wanted. 

Over time, I came to understand that faith isn’t a magic wand to fix everything. It’s the anchor that keeps you steady when life doesn’t go as you hoped. Faith didn’t stop me from feeling the pain, but it stopped the pain from consuming me. 

Eventually, the doctors told us there was nothing more they could do. I remember breaking down in the bathroom, crying out to God, asking if I was praying wrong.

The Holy Spirit gently said, “Get up. She’s in the next room.” That moment changed everything. It reminded me that my time with her was precious. I had been so focused on the outcome that I almost missed the beauty of simply being present. 

One evening, I asked my mom if there was anyone she needed to forgive. We sat together and prayed, listing the names and releasing them to God. That night, a different kind of healing happened, a healing of her heart. And that, too, was an answer to prayer. 

God didn’t heal my mother’s body, but He healed our relationship. He gave me time to serve her, to love her, and to walk with her to the finish line. He surrounded me with people who spoke life into me when I felt empty. And even in her final moments, God showed up. 

Faith didn’t take away the loss, but it gave me the strength to face it. 

Faith gave me peace in the middle of the storm, not an escape from it. 

Mom Made Sure I Wasn’t Alone 

Mom’s strength was her ability to organize anything. That was her gift. On her last day in the hospital, the medication was high because of her pain, and she wasn’t coherent. I left mom at the hospital that day to prepare the house for hospice. But somehow, even in her condition, she managed to reach out to my Uncle Arthur and tell him to come to the house. I had no idea they were coming. 

Just minutes before they arrived, I got a call from the hospital letting me know that Mom had passed away. Right after I hung up the phone, Uncle Arthur and Aunt Ruth rang my doorbell. Even in her pain, even when she wasn’t fully coherent, Mom still managed to organize it so that I wouldn’t be alone when I got the news. That was her gift, right until the very end. 

As the funeral approached, I found myself being the one comforting others. But when the noise stops, when everyone went home, it was just me and God. That’s when my healing process really began. 

10 Confessions of a Caregiver 

Confession #1: Even when you’ve done your best, the enemy will try to steal your peace. I had nightmares about my mom dying for months. My husband prayed for me until they stopped. 

Confession #2: After mom passed, I didn’t want to see anyone. But God sent a friend who handed me an envelope with $400—the exact amount we were short on rent. 

Confession #3: I truly wanted to cancel a job interview, but I decided to go anyway. I was offered the position and remained at that job for almost six years. Sometimes, blessings come when you show up despite how you feel. 

Confession #4: My family grew closer through it all. We became a team, leaning on each other during the hardest moments. My Aunt Ann reminded me never to shut my husband out but to invite him to take this journey with me and let him be part of my healing process. 

Confession #5: Caregiving will exhaust you. There were times I cried out to God, asking how much longer.  

Confession #6: Grief is a process with no shortcuts. I reminded myself to keep living. 

Confession #7: My identity was tied to my mom. After she passed, I had to rediscover who I was. I had to speak life into myself. I am confident. I am more than a conqueror. I am a child of the King. 

Confession #8: The people I expected to help didn’t show up, but I’ve learned not to waste energy on bitterness. God sent exactly who and what I needed. 

Confession #9: I learned that it’s okay to tell God you are upset with Him. He can handle it. He’s not offended by our honesty. God would rather have our real, raw feelings than for us to pretend we’re okay when we’re not. 

Confession #10: I had never cared for a seriously ill person before. I wanted to run away, not because I didn’t want to care for her, but because I was afraid. Afraid of failing. But I did it afraid and God was with me every step of the way. 

Silent Tears My Song for You 

As I was processing everything, I went through in this caregiving journey, I found myself writing a song called “Silent Tears.” It’s a reflection of the quiet moments when I was breaking inside but still holding on to faith. The moments when my prayers were silent but constant. The moments when no one could see my tears, but God did. 

I recorded “Silent Tears” live in concert after this chapter of my life. Every lyric is a piece of my heart. I want to invite you to listen to it, and I pray it brings you comfort, hope, and the reminder that you are not alone. 

I know your story may not look exactly like mine. The outcome may be very different. But what I can promise you is this: God will be there for you, just like He was for me, no matter the situation. He’s faithful. He’s present. And He can handle every tear, even the ones no one else sees. 

Take a moment to enjoy this song, and when you're done, I’d love for you to come back and read the Acknowledgements. I have some special thank you’s I want to share. 

 Click Here to watch the Live Recording of Silent Tears by Ki Johnson 

Gratitude and Acknowledgements 

This journey was the most beautifully hard thing I have ever done. 

I encourage you to look for God in your journey. He is there, and He will not leave you. 

Thank you, Mildred, for being there for Mom and me. Auntie Jean, thank you for guiding me. Aunt Ann, my Obie One, thank you for always being just a phone call away. Uncle Arthur, Aunt Ruth, and Aunt Louise, thank you for showing up when we needed you. Nurse Shirley, I appreciate you so much. To every family member who supported us, thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Thank you to my Dad, David, for letting me care for Mom. We were a team. Together, we made sure she had everything she needed. I’ll always be grateful that we did this together.  Thank you to my brother Raymond, I love you!

To my husband, Brandon, there are no words that can express how thankful I am for you. You carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. 

To my children, Juston, Morgan, and Matthew, thank you for helping, for being patient, and for standing with me through it all. 

Thank you, Pat (Momma Pat), for sharing this scripture with me. It truly helped me in my journey: 

James 1:2-4 (NIV): 

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” 

Those words reminded me that even in the hardest moments, God was refining me. The trials weren’t just hardships, they were shaping my faith, building my perseverance, and preparing me for the next season. 

I hope my story encourages you. 

To God be the glory. There is absolutely no way I could have done this without Him. He loved me, guided me, carried me, and never let me go. 

 A Caregiver’s Prayer 

Lord, give me strength when I feel weak, 

Patience when I feel overwhelmed, 

And peace when my heart is heavy. 

Help me to love, even when I’m tired, 

To serve with grace, even when it’s hard, 

And to remember that I am never alone. 

Be my comfort, my guide, and my rest. 

Amen.