Sunday, August 7, 2016

cancer in the front seat

I've been quiet on here, I know. Part of it is because summer has been busy and flying by. Our days have been full with summer everything, and I've still been getting used to managing home and work and kids and chemo, and so I haven't been leaving much time or space to write.

If I'm honest though, the silence is not just because of busyness and managing all of the fun and bumps that come along with our full plates.

If I'm honest, the truth is, during the last few months it feels like cancer has sort of taken over the front seat. And that's left me searching a bit for what to say.

Now, this has nothing to do with Ethan's treatments or his progress. His treatments continue to go along as planned and if you have followed our story for the last couple of years, you know that Ethan's cancer has been in remission from the first month into his treatment in March 2014. Now that we've turned the page to August, he has 9 months (and some days) to go. Next week he starts cycle 9 (of 12) of his Maintenance therapy. Things are moving along as planned, which is a huge blessing that we are incredibly grateful for.

And yet.

It actually started on our Make-A-Wish trip. You guys, that trip was absolutely the most wonderful trip and we had the absolute best time.  I'll get a separate post up about that later, because really, it was just incredible.

But the thing that happened on our Make-A-Wish trip is that all of a sudden, cancer was known again. People we had never met all of a sudden knew just by looking at us at the parks, on the plane, wherever we went, that we were on a special trip and that Ethan was a Wish Kid. Ethan had a great Make-A-Wish button that he had to wear (and it really was great, because it basically got us fast passes on all of the rides and A++ treatment - seriously!), and it told everyone that we came in contact with that we were on a trip because he got to make a wish. Because he has suffered a life-threatening illness. Because he had cancer.

The sadness of your child having had cancer just does not go away, you guys. And sometimes, that sadness is felt more acutely than at other times, no matter how much time has passed since this journey began. This week I had jury duty and I tried calling the jury office to see if I could get out of it because seriously - all the things, and the lady on the phone kindly said to me, "Honey, here's what you're going to do. When you go, there will be an announcement about people experiencing hardship and when that happens, you go up there and you tell them about your baby and his treatment."

My baby and his treatment.

On Friday I sat with a neuropsychologist at an appointment with Ethan, who described to me some of the possible late effects that may occur because of the chemotherapy and radiation that Ethan has received. That felt pretty much how you imagine it would. And yet that's the reality of cancer. The medicine that is used to eradicate this disease is so powerful that it can damage other parts of his body and brain in the process.

Can you see how cancer has been making it's presence known these last few months? 

And yet.

Somehow, even in the midst of a couple of months where I have felt the heaviness of this journey weighing on my heart, God is reminding me of who He is and what He does. That He brings life, even in the midst of the sadness. That out of the darkness He brings light.

Last week, our church enjoyed a night of singing hymns together. After one of the hymns, we read this passage:

"I have rebuilt the ruined places and replanted that which was desolate. I am the LORD; I have spoken and I will do it." 
Ezekiel 36:36

Oh, what the LORD can do! He can replant. He can rebuild. He can renew. He can bring life. Even in the midst of a storm. Even in the midst of a season that brings so much uncertainty and unknown. Even in the midst of a summer where cancer seems to want to shout at me so often of the many things it has touched. 

And so, dear friends, thank you for your continued prayers. The reality is, cancer is a permanent part of Ethan's story and our family's story. But even in times where that reality feels most weighty, it's not the biggest story. The biggest story is that God is who He says He is and He has done the most amazing thing by sending his son Jesus to enter into this brokenness - my brokenness, into the darkness of sin and sadness and a world that is not as it should be. Jesus came to rescue us from the brokenness of our sin and he brings us into new life. Even in this stormy, rocky season of suffering, He renews, restores, and strengthens. He brings life to the desolate places of my heart. What a Savior!

"I waited patiently for the LORD; 
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth, 
a song of praise to our God."
Psalm 40:1-3