marathon

I went to church yesterday for the first time since this whole thing started. By myself, since we are grandma-less right now and so Pete stayed home with the kids. It wasn't until the end of the service when we started to sing one of my most favorite, solid hymns, that I found myself on the edge of a good-old blubber cry.

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly trust in Jesus name

Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour's love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all

When Darkness seems to hide His face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil
My anchor holds within the veil

Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour's love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all

 
When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless stand before the throne.

(You can click here to take a listen if you'd like - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZ3HIHG7Yvw)

Some dear friends shared with us the analogy of this cancer journey as a marathon - such a spot on, way of describing this experience. And it's a marathon that started as a sprint - filled with cancer jargon, countless nights in the hospital, the scariest day of our lives with Ethan's first sedation, and then his body being infused with all sort of toxic chemo, and blood transfusions and hardly getting to see Eloise, and figuring out what the heck to do with our life.

The dust is starting to settle a little bit, but we are still in the race. And still at the beginning, really. There is a long road ahead and the last few days I have especially started to feel weary. The adrenaline from that first sprint is waning now and I feel how tired I am. And so sad, watching my sweet son struggle with some of the effects of the chemo and everything else. Feeling angry because cancer seriously sucks.

Which brings me back to church yesterday and my near-blubber cry. Because as that beautiful, stormy song played, Jesus met me with the truth of who He is:

He is LORD. LORD OF ALL.  

He is Lord over this cancer and Lord over Ethan's blood. My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus' blood and righteousness. Without Jesus, I would sink. All I can do is rest on his unchanging grace. Even in this marathon of a new journey, I can find rest in Him. He is Lord. Lord of all.

So that's what you need to know, dear friends. With something as unexpected as cancer has been in our lives, and as unexpected as our days have now become - we are only able to do any of this because Jesus is sustaining us, and he gives us what we need to make it through one day at a time. Christ alone; Cornerstone. Weak made strong, in the Savior's love. Through the storm, He is Lord, Lord of all.

There is much that we could use prayer for as we start this new week:

• Today's sedation to prepare for Ethan's radiation therapy this week went well but his blood work came back showing that he is neutropenic. His hemoglobin was very low and so we spent the afternoon at the hospital getting a blood transfusion. Please pray that his counts recover as he has some big-gun chemo on Wednesday this week and needs all of the healthy cells he can get. 
• Please pray for protection over the 8 sedations coming up over the next 2 weeks and for calm and ease for all of us with all that each sedation involves. 
• Please pray for strength and stamina for all of us too - for Ethan most of all.

Thank you all so much for your continued prayers and for helping to run this race with us.