Given at Lake Kahola — August 30, 2026
A Testimonial by Niki McDowell
Hello everyone. I am Niki McDowell. We own cabin #36 and have been owners since 2020. Today, I am going to share about the storm I have been going thru the past year. Last month, Kris talked about the kind of boat your faith rides in. A canoe Christian — going it alone. And then there’s me, a pontoon Christian. I’m at church when the music is good and it’s convenient. We are literally 50 feet from church. I’m floating along, having a good time, not in any hurry.
But a year ago, I found out I had cancer. And let me tell you — a pontoon is not the boat you want to be in when the storm hits.
The Instinct to Go It Alone
When I got the diagnosis, my first instinct was to tell no one. I wanted to figure out how to go through this alone. And if you know me, that might surprise you. But sharing bad news has always been incredibly hard for me.
When I was twelve years old, I got ringworm. And instead of telling my parents, I walked into the pharmacy in our small town and tried to buy the medicine myself. Luckily, the pharmacist called my parents. I remember the relief when they weren’t mad — but I also remember that my first instinct was to handle it alone.
Forty-some years later, same instinct. Brian was encouraging me to be private about it. And I wanted to be. But then I realized — chemo was going to out me. You can’t hide losing your hair. You can’t hide the days you can barely get off the couch. Cancer doesn’t let you keep secrets.
Opening the Door
So I made a decision. I wasn’t ready to be Facebook open. But I could be Caring Bridge open — a smaller circle, people who wanted to know how I was doing could know. I’d share updates on my terms.
I want to be honest with you: that decision terrified me. But it ended up being one of the most important decisions of my entire journey.
Because once I opened that door, what came through it was more than I ever could have imagined.
I asked people to send me meditation music and religious songs. Those songs became my cancer fight playlist. The music people sent carried me through rounds of chemo when nothing else could.
My sorority sisters sent dinner from a restaurant for every single chemo round. My Kahola neighbors called, texted, and delivered surprises regularly. My best friend growing up organized a Sunshine Squad — every three days, a friend signed up to send me a message or a surprise. For months.
I became close to family members I had struggled to connect with before. My godfather, who I didn’t know well, became a regular confidant. Relationships I had given up on came back to life.
And the kids — everyone would ask how Imani and Preston were doing. Imani told me, “Everyone was nicer to us and we got lots of presents. The DoorDash and sweets were the best.” Oh, to be in middle school when your mom has cancer.
And the prayers. I had so many people praying for me. People I hadn’t talked to in years. People I’d never met — coworkers of friends. The weight of those prayers was something I could feel.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 — “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.”
I almost was that person — the one who falls with no one there. Not because no one cared. Because I almost didn’t let them.
Galatians 6:2 — “Bear one another’s burdens.”
I thought I was protecting people by carrying this alone. But God doesn’t design us to do that. He puts people in our path — sometimes literally.
The Minister in the Last Row
Which brings me to a story I still get chills telling.
In May, we had a trip to Florida for Imani’s cheer competition. I had planned my surgery so I’d be four weeks out and feeling better by then. We’re on the plane, last row, and I’m sitting next to a minister from Jamaica. Her flight had been cancelled the day before, and she’d been rerouted to ours.
At some point during the flight, she realized I had cancer. She looks at me and says, “You are the reason my flight was cancelled.”
She told me that years ago, a parish member had breast cancer. One day, when the minister thought of this woman, the hymn “It is Well” kept playing over and over in her head. She called the woman — and learned that during that moment, the woman had been in surgery. That woman is still cancer free today, 20 years later.
Fast forward to the morning of our flight. The minister is on her way to the airport, that same song — It is Well — started playing in her head again. Over and over. And she didn’t know why.
Until she sat down next to me.
As she’s telling me this, I remember that my sister-in-law — who sends me a religious inspiration every single day — had sent me something the day before that I’d only glanced at. I pulled it up on my phone. It read: “When peace like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”
We both got chills. I joked with her — “I’m sorry I got your flight cancelled. Maybe if I’d read that yesterday, you’d have been on time.” She smiled and said, “I’ve been cursing since that flight got cancelled. But I’m happy to do God’s work, even if it means a day’s delay and sitting in the last row.”
Don’t Go Alone
I know some of you here are facing your own storms right now. Maybe you’re waiting on test results. Maybe you’re starting at a new school and don’t know anyone yet. And maybe, like me, your first instinct is to get in that canoe and paddle alone.
Don’t.
Let people in. It will be the hardest thing you do and the best decision you make. You don’t have to be Facebook open. You can be Caring Bridge open. You can tell two people or twenty. But don’t go alone. Choose the people that will make you stronger person.
Because God doesn’t just show up in the miracle. He shows up in the friend who sends dinner. In the godfather who calls. In the minister in the last row of a plane whose whole flight got cancelled just so she could sit next to you to make sure God let you know that “It is well.”
Amen.
Share this sermon: 10minutesermons.com/from-pontoon-to-battleship If this spoke to you, it will speak to someone you know. Send it to them.
My Prayer
We pray for anyone carrying a burden they haven’t shared yet. Give them the strength to open that door, even just a crack. And for those of us on the other side of that door — make us the friend who sends dinner, the one who calls, the one who shows up. Put us in the right seat on the right plane at the right time. Because that’s how You work — through us, through each other. It is well.
To read about the time I got to be the minister in someone else’s story: The Lost Backpack
Or read about how we ended up at Lake Kahola in The Doorway
Follow Niki’s cancer journey: Read her CaringBridge story
Niki’s Cancer Fight Playlist
Friends and family sent these songs during Niki’s fight. Each one carried a prayer and a person who loved her through it.