Sometimes life begins with a whisper, not a roar. A quiet trickle. A winding path without a map. And yet, even the smallest stream knows something we often forget: it is moving toward something greater.

A creek is a tributary, a small stream flowing into a larger river or lake. The word comes from the Latin tributarius, meaning to give tribute. Over time, it came to describe a stream that pours itself into something bigger than itself. A tribute is an offering of gratitude, respect, or remembrance.

Two creeks: Dawson’s Creek and Schitt’s Creek

This reflection is, in a way, a small tribute to two “creeks” that shaped pieces of my heart, Dawson’s Creek and Schitt’s Creek, both of which recently lost beloved leaders of their story worlds, James Van Der Beek and Catherine O’Hara. Their loss stirred something deeper in me, a reminder of how fragile life is and how powerful love, faith, and hope can be, especially in the face of cancer.

As a 90s kid, Dawson’s Creek showed me the depth of friendship, emotion, and the complexity of becoming who we are. Later in life, watching a family in Schitt’s Creek rebuild their lives from hardship taught me something different: how love can flourish even in imperfect, unexpected circumstances.

Both stories carried a quiet truth. Even when life changes course, meaning and connection remain.

Like me, perhaps you didn’t know James Van Der Beek or Catherine O’Hara personally, but you felt like you did. Watching these shows, they became like friends. And many of us felt the unsettledness and loss when they passed—a searing reminder of the fragility of life.

The uncertainty of life

Life often places us in situations we never imagined, leading to outcomes we never expected. A diagnosis. A loss. A turning point. These moments shape us. Like a creek, we may begin as a fragile trickle, unsure and wandering, until one day we discover we have been flowing toward something larger all along.

Before his passing, James Van Der Beek spoke about how cancer changed his faith, saying that connection to God became “the whole point of this exercise on this planet.” His words resonated deeply with me because my own life has been a long search for peace, meaning, and truth. For more about Van Der Beek’s cancer journey, see “A Message of Hope.”

My wandering path 

In my Story of Hope, Wandering Paths, I described myself as drifting through life, always sensing there was more. At fifteen years old, I faced leukemia, yet somehow survived. For years, I searched for peace in many places, yet still felt like a creek without water, moving without direction, without a river to flow toward. Nearly twenty-five years later, I discovered what I had been seeking all along: connection to God.

I grew up knowing of God, but it was only about a year and a half ago that I truly found Jesus. A few words from friends at just the right time sparked a deep curiosity that would change my life. One phrase echoed in my heart: The only way to God is through Jesus. At first, I believed faith was simply a personal path among many. But something within me urged me to seek deeper truth.

Never alone

Through sermons, conversations with believers, and studying the Bible, I began to understand who Jesus is and why He matters. Like a researcher, I questioned, learned and reflected. In that search, something beautiful happened, though it started as a trickle, gradually building to a tributary with more flow.

I found peace.
I found strength.
I found comfort.

And I realized I was never alone.

The blessing of being alive

When I faced childhood cancer as a teenager, I lost a close friend, another young cancer patient walking the same road beside me. Watching her pass made mortality painfully real, and I wondered if the same fate awaited me. Since then, I have seen many friends and loved ones lost to cancer. Being alive today feels like a profound blessing.

Through dark and difficult seasons, my faith has carried me. In moments when my strength has felt impossible, I placed my burdens in God’s hands and found comfort in knowing I am not walking alone. His love, steady and unwavering, continues to guide me forward.

How I found the River (and how you can too)

Looking back, I see it clearly now. I was that creek, winding and searching, until I finally found my river, the Living Water of Jesus. The journey has not been free of rocks, obstacles, or storms, but the current of faith carries me with strength, purpose, and hope.

When you think about your story, have you sometimes felt like a creek without water, moving without direction? If so, perhaps my story will encourage you to consider another source of hope—one you may have overlooked. I certainly did for many years in my life.

Hope for all facing cancer and other hardships

If you or someone you love is facing cancer, know this: you are not alone. Even in uncertainty, even in fear, even in loss, hope still flows. Peace is still possible. Strength still rises. And sometimes, in the quietest moments, you may discover that your small stream has been moving toward something greater all along.

Keep flowing.
Keep believing.
Hope has arrived.

 

To learn more about how to begin a relationship with God, see Knowing God Personally.