🌾 The Calm Before the Storm — and the Voice That Led Me

📖 “Do not fear, for I am with you;do not be dismayed, for I am your God.I will strengthen you and help you;I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”— Isaiah 41:10

I didn’t have pain. I just had a feeling — a quiet little whisper that something wasn’t right. That tiny freckle above my eyebrow had already been removed once. The dermatologist told me it was nothing serious back then, and life moved on. But almost a year later, something inside me stirred. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. It was just that still, small voice saying, “Get it checked.”

So, I drove to my dermatologist in Chico. He examined it closely and decided to do a small graft — I think that’s what it’s called — where they take a little portion of skin and send it off for testing.

A few days later, the nurse called and said the doctor wanted to go over the results in person. It was during COVID, so getting an appointment wasn’t easy. But he told me it couldn’t wait — he’d make room to see me. That alone made my heart drop. Here we go again, another Mohs scooping of my already teeny weeny brain.

When I went in, he told me the sample didn’t look good. Because I had already gone through Mohs surgery in that same spot once before, he wasn’t confident doing another one on top of it. He said it was more than he was comfortable with and wanted to find someone who could handle it properly.

He tried reaching out to several other dermatologists — eight in total — from Redding all the way down to Sacramento. Every answer was the same: “No appointments available.”“We’re not taking new patients.”“Try somewhere else.”

It was COVID. Everyone was backlogged. Waiting lists. Restrictions. And I remember sitting there thinking… seriously? Am I just supposed to wait until I glow in the dark or something?Typical me, always finding laugher in life.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh while you wait — and trust that God’s working even when nobody else seems to be answering the phone.

Finally, he told me something I’ll never forget. He said,

“I hate to send you to UCSF because you’ll just be a number to them, and I don’t want you to feel like that. But you need to go. They’re the only ones who can help.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear — but I trusted him. And now, looking back, I know that moment was God steering me right where I needed to be.

After extensive back-and-forth and trying to arrange an appointment at UCSF, I finally started to see a path forward. Just as everything was coming together, I got a call from a dermatologist in Roseville. They said they’d had a last-minute cancellation and could squeeze me in the very next day. It would be a quick hour-long appointment — in, out, and home before dinner.

But something inside me said no. I can’t explain it — it wasn’t fear, it was peace. A calm voice inside said, “Go to UCSF.” I knew it was the Holy Spirit.

Something told me that if I went anywhere else, I might miss what was really going on. UCSF had the equipment, the specialists, and the knowledge to dig deeper — to look beyond another Mohs procedure.

So, I turned down the Roseville appointment and trusted that still, small voice. And when I made that decision, an incredible calm came over me. I felt comforted, not afraid — like the Holy Spirit was saying, “You’re doing the right thing.”

That four-hour drive didn’t feel long at all. God was my co-pilot the whole way — and He sent me two angels on the line beside me.

My minister, Carolyn Steidley, called and prayed with me along the route, and Auntie Connie Jost in Texas prayed over me as well. Those two have always been my go-tos — strong, faithful women who kept me grounded when I felt weak and vulnerable to the serpent. They pulled me back toward the light, lifting me up in prayer and reminding me to keep my eyes on God’s goodness, not the fear in front of me.

I give so much credit to both of them — my ministry team — for helping me stay connected in prayer and keeping my faith strong. That was a long drive, but I wasn’t alone. With God as my co-pilot and those two prayer warriors beside me, I stayed steady and grounded.

When I arrived in San Francisco, I checked into the Marriott, where they had upgraded me to a beautiful suite — wall to wall windows overlooking the entire city and the Bay. It was breathtaking. In the middle of all the chaos of COVID — businesses closing, people losing everything — God still shined bright.

As I stood by those windows, I looked out at the lights of San Francisco, His white Church standing out loud and proud and thanked Him for everything He’d already blessed me with: my family, my friends, my faith, and the strength to keep walking forward. I spent that evening alone in that suite, talking to God — thanking Him, trusting Him, and feeling that rare, unshakable peace.

My Aunt Jacquie and my cousin Ranae (who’s really more like a big sister) were two of my biggest blessings during that time. They called constantly, checking in on me every single day, asking how I felt, what the doctors had said, and if there was anything they could do. Their voices became a comfort — a steady reminder that I was loved, that people were praying, and that I mattered.

Before I closed my eyes and said my nightly prayers, I thanked God for all of them — for the ones who prayed with me, for me, and even from afar.

✨ “It’s always the unknown that scares me most. Once I know what I’m up against, I can face it — fight it — overcome it. But not knowing what’s ahead, that’s what shakes the soul. My hope is that others don’t let the fear of the unknown stop them. Because until you know what you’re fighting, you can’t fight. Please, don’t wait. Don’t let fear whisper you into silence. If I had left things to the unknown… well, we’ll talk about that in Blog Three.”

🌙 Before I said my prayers that night, I looked out over San Francisco one last time. God’s light still shined bright, even in the middle of uncertainty — and I knew I wasn’t walking this road alone.

✨ Final Reflection

Flying J Ranch isn’t about “Jenyfer” or a single person’s story. It’s about all of us. It’s about every person who’s ever walked through hardship, faced fear, or needed someone to simply say, “You’re not alone.”

This isn’t my ranch — it’s our ranch. It’s a community, a light, a place where people from every walk of life can come together and feel seen, supported, and loved. You don’t have to believe exactly what I believe. You don’t even have to pray — but we’ll ask if we can pray for you.

At Flying J Ranch, no one will ever have faith forced upon them. Instead, we’ll meet people where they are — hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder — and help them find their own peace in their own way. Whether it’s cancer, depression, loss, or simply feeling alone in a noisy world, we’ll be here.

Because Flying J Ranch isn’t built on one story — it’s built on connection. On love, compassion, and the belief that healing happens when hearts come together. That’s what this journey is all about.

My hotel room that night — a quiet place to breathe and pray before the next chapter began

The view from my window — God’s beauty shining over San Francisco, even in uncertain times