Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4 ESV) I dont know what its like to face my own death. I do know what its like to walk through the valley with one who dies. I also know know what its like to walk the valley with someone who should be dead. I know what its like to fear evil. But I also know what its like to say You are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. This Psalm is not written by one who has lived in a bubble. Its written by one who has faced death, knows death will come, but who also knows the Author of Life. I am reading a book loaned to me by one of Elijahs doctors, called The Emperor of All Maladies. Its the biography of cancer, and the heroic tales of those who have battled for survival and cure. Its fascinating and horrible. There are records of cancer as far back as 2500BC in Egypt. Until surgeries became more sterile in the last 150 years, nobody had ever been knowingly cured of cancer. Even in1960, every single person who contracted Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia - Elijahs diagnosis which is an aggressive cancer of the blood - died. They died fast. They bled to death or died of infection. I have dear friends who had a child with Elijahs diagnosis, and their son lived nearly two years to the day. The first doctors who began aggressively treating childhood leukemia with multiple chemotherapies were called butchers and barbarians. Children died often from the treatment. But if they werent treated, they all died. Miraculously, sets of children began to respond to chemo, to go into remission. But then tragically, within a year the kids would return having relapsed, the leukemia having invaded their brain. Its now fifty years later. More than my lifetime, but just a tiny spec of time in the coarse of history. From discovery of leukemia until fifty years ago, every single person with Elijahs diagnosis died quickly. Now, we are looking at a 95% cure rate. Its not easy, its the most intense season weve ever walked. In the last three and a half months, weve had: 28 days in the hospital 10 more days in the outpatient center 20 doctors office visits 6 blood transfusions 8 surgical procedures under anesthesia 3 new allergic reactions 2 unidentified infections 96 individual doses of chemotherapy through needle, port, PICC line, and mouth. Tomorrow, if his counts are well, we will spend a few days in the hospital. Tomorrow he will receive chemo doses #97, 98, 99, and 100. We will spend a few nights scattered as a family, and then we will do it again in a couple of weeks. Stuff like this will continue for six more months. And then we have three more years of less intense treatment. But we get to walk this road with the strong hope that he will live. In the meantime, life is not on hold. This is one of the most intense seasons of life we will ever walk. A new daughter has been adopted into our family. A new nephew has arrived. Our oldest daughter is becoming a teenager before our eyes, has gone on her first mission trip, and is serving as a camp counselor to tell people about Jesus. Micah went from training wheels to riding his two wheeled bike in literally three minutes of practice. Elijah has had about six personality changes but is experiencing profound things of the Lord that some people never learn. Our home was remodeled by church and family. We got a dog (why did we get a dog?). Dearest friends and total strangers have poured out love, gifts, and acts of service beyond measure. We have prayed with other families walking through similarly scary shadows. We have been the angriest, crankiest, and most selfish that we can remember. Weve lost all ability to make plans 48 hours out. We have had the most precious, tender times of family ever. Our cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.... I go to sleep tonight not knowing which will dominate tomorrow. Will it be a day filled with goodness, where everything goes to plan? Or will it be a day filled with mercy, where I blow it and am bitter and angry, yet still loved the same by my Savior? I dont know. But either way, its fine. My family is experiencing Jesus in the most tangible ways. And one day, we wont be dwelling in a hospital room. We will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. #4Elijah
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 01:48:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015