A Long Way To Go

Three weeks ago, I would have described myself as spiritually mature. That was before "my" world fell apart. But in these last few days, as we've had a break from chemo and doctors appointments and Bailey is feeling a bit better for now, my brain has had some much needed time to start processing through this tough theological stuff...as it applies to my heart, my faith, my walk with God.

I have often marveled at the truly Godly women I have come across in life. Not the ones who are mature believers...but the ones who are wise beyond all of us...who seem set apart. Most of them I haven't had the blessing to personally know, I have merely heard their stories. Whenever I read Elisabeth Elliot, I am mesmerized by her words...such peace and wisdom. The life she was given - so much pain...yet such contentment...it is remarkable. I am blessed to have come in contact with a few of these women personally, but only through briefly crossing paths, never someone with whom I have been permanently close. You know these women. You want to sit with them and just ask questions...and then take everything they say and apply it to your life...as if it is really that easy. They walk the hard road and then we can just use what they have learned. They are usually slow to speak, but when they do, it is profound and full of truth. They have seen much of life. They have seen God work. And they have seen enough to know that He is in control and they trust Him...whatever their circumstances.

I used to wonder what it would take to grow into one of these wise women of God. How did they get there? Was it truly possible to be content regardless of your circumstances? To see His hand in all situations? To live fearlessly? I thought I wanted to be like these women...I hoped that God would mold me...that I would grow patient, wise and most importantly, content. But in the last few weeks, I've gotten just a small taste of the suffering that I suspect most of these women have gone through tenfold...the suffering that I believe may be absolutely required if we are truly to find our rest in Him...

And it has been awful.

Yes, if I'm being honest, I want to run as fast as I can in the other direction. I want to take back my prayer, my day-dreaming about growing wise and faithful. Can I take it back? This is entirely too difficult. This refining fire is far too hot and my soul can't take the heat. The pain...crushing...hard to breath. The fear...all consuming. And what I am going through is merely a bit of suffering...compared to Christ, to his disciples, to the martyrs who have lived and died for their faith...this isn't even close. How did they do it?

So, that is what I've been contemplating for the past few days. I thought I was a mature believer - I suppose I am...I know Jesus, I have the head knowledge, I was walking the walk, committed to the Lord, letting the Holy Spirit guide me. Sure, I'd suffered some, everyone has...but never the gut-wrenching agony that has gripped me lately...never feeling so completely devastated. I was surprised at how quickly I crumbled...how I immediately defaulted to doubt and despair. And as each day passes, I am seeing that there is so much I don't do well...discovering just how far I am from that wise Godly woman. I thought I was content. I thought I'd found my hope in Him. I thought I lived for the day. But my disappointment, my anger, my grasping for control, my fear, my questions...they indicate otherwise.

I am His, I know that. I have realized though, in the last couple of weeks, that maybe I wasn't as far along as I'd once thought. I know that we are to rejoice in our suffering, our trials...because he is tempering us, shaping us, growing us. But this hurts so much...it is excruciating. I don't want to rejoice in anything right now. I just want it to stop...how do I make it stop? I suspect I will look back some day, maybe, and feel differently. I believe that is the way it is supposed to work, right? But for now, I'm in the middle of the heat, the searing fire...and it is difficult to feel anything but the pain.

Kids Can Be the Body of Christ Too (Thanks PCS!)

I spent today, trying to focus on today. Sounds simple enough, right? It's not. The planning, the thinking four steps ahead, the what-ifs, the worst-case scenarios...apparently they come quite easily to me. But, thanks to the faithful prayer of many of you, who I know are praying for peace for me, and praying that I may have a super-natural ability to be in the moment...for today, I was able to do that.

So in an effort to stay out of the pit, even if it is just for one day, I'm not doing "sad" on this blog post. I'm not writing about wrestling or anger or worry or fear. Tonight, I want to share about something amazing that I am seeing in the midst of our struggle...the body of Christ at work...and more specifically, an even smaller piece of that body...the kids at Bailey's school.

We have our big kids in an amazing covenant Christian school. The school follows a Charlotte Mason approach to education...which I suppose could be described as a classical take on schooling. They have half days until second grade, a heavier focus on the arts, nature...and significant parent involvement. We were hesitant to send them there, not because we had doubts about the school, but because we had doubts about our ability to keep up with what was required of parents. Eventually though, we decided that it wasn't about us, it was about our kids (seems like an easy choice now, we must be either a little slow or alarmingly selfish...sadly, I suspect the latter). It was a school that would focus intensely on shepherding their hearts, teaching them about Jesus and instilling a love of learning. We have been very happy at this school and the experience has been terrific. But I had NO idea when we started two years ago, what it would mean to be part of a covenant school if (and when) the hard times came...no idea.

What we have experienced in recent weeks has been completely astounding...breath-taking really. Everywhere I turn, people are sending Bailey cards or gifts, bringing food, checking in to see what they can do...completely loving on us. We are covered in love, service...and mostly importantly...prayer. Bailey's sweet teacher has been nothing short of a miracle, for a number of reasons. The entire thing is awe-inspiring. But even as loved as we feel as a family, the outpouring that is coming from the children...to Bailey...it makes this mama's heart leap with joy. These precious kids are arguing about who will push the wheelchair or carry the crutches. They are making cards, cards with Bible verses to encourage Bailey in her struggle. They are praying. Some of the fourth grade boys have concocted a plan in which they will have a special time of prayer followed by the shaving of their heads down to a crew cut, shortly before Bailey loses her hair...so she doesn't have to be alone. There is one boy who has already done so...without fanfare or attention...just to show his support. The fourth grade girls are planning to wear hats that say "Team Bailey"...so that she is not the only hat-wearer as her hair starts to disappear. Her dear friends have signed up to love on her through good and bad times. These kids...they are all in...and we are completely moved. In a time when you hear horrible things about schools and education, kids and sadly, even some teachers...we are surrounded, completely engulfed, by this place, these educators, these kids who will do whatever it takes to carry us through this valley. It is beautiful.

There is so much more that I can say about the body of Christ working. The school is just the beginning of that story. It is incredible...and I will share some of it later. Tonight, I wanted to stick to one amazing little school, full of fabulous God-loving teachers...and the really special kids who go there. Thank you PCS!

Everything is Different

It was a difficult day today.

It seemed like it should be a typical day, and Patrick and I were both looking forward to it. No tests, no doctors, no chemo, no hospital. He went to work this morning and I stayed home to do the mommy thing. We were hoping for some routine, for a taste of normal. But while "normal" as we remember it still feels freshly etched in our minds...the truth is...it is long gone and will never return. I am trying to jump back in...to face forward, ready to tackle what is coming our way, but honestly, I am just not there yet. I liked what we had before, loved it actually. It is going to take some time to let go. I don't want to let go.

Everything is different now. Sleep is elusive. On those evenings when I do manage to get some rest, I dread the moment I wake up, because for a brief second, I am happy...and then the sorrow floods back in, the fear, the heartache. My child, who just weeks ago was playing sports, is now in a leg immobilizer and completely worn out from the effects of chemo. She needs help getting showered and help getting dressed. Exercise, grocery shopping, errands, phone calls...things I do to feel like we have a routine...are not getting done. There are so many doctors appointments...all of the time. I took Bailey to school this morning, but instead of dropping her off and watching her run into the building...I pushed her wheelchair. We have people bringing food. We have helpers in our house all of the time. We have kids in our room at night because they are sad or scared or just needing some extra love. We have fear in our hearts about what is next...what does the future hold? We are trying to juggle homework and sports and other kids...and cancer. Nothing is the same. The days are long and tiring and the evenings are dark and scary.

I had hoped that today would bring some familiarity of routine...that some sense of comfort would come from a day spent back in "our" life. And while I was thankful for a day with no doctors or hospitals, it didn't appear that there was any comfort to be found because the life we knew...is gone. I was thinking that maybe it was just me, and that I am was having my own little pitty party as I wrestle with this. However, Patrick came home this evening to report a similar experience at work. Expecting more normal...and finding really, that so much has changed. There is not a piece of our lives that can't feel the trickle down of cancer...it has run into every crevice of our being. There are so many unknowns. There are so many difficult decisions to make. There is so much despair. I'm not sure what else I should say. I was hoping that some routine would bring comfort, but it didn't. What we have now has so little resemblance to what we had then...I think we are basically starting over.So, an additional post with no answers. Just another challenging day and we covet your prayers.

Want to Help Suffering Children?

I'm taking a break from cancer blogging today...I just need a rest.

Before we began this frightful journey two weeks ago, our passion was adoption. It is still adoption, although God seems to be asking us to put that on the shelf for a bit. We were planning to adopt a daughter from China this year, hopefully bringing her home in the next 12 months. Our other kids couldn't wait and even though we didn't know who she was yet, we spoke of her often. We actually began this journey over five years ago...it was put on hold for a surprise pregnancy, long waits in China, an Ethiopian adoption...and we had just begun renewing paperwork and we were hoping that this would be the year we would finally meet her. I have been saving a piece of my heart for this little girl for quite some time, so it is very difficult to have to lay it back down and wait again...not knowing if she will ever come to us.

Lately, we have been rightly wrapped up in our own child's battle, but I don't want to forget that there are SO many children hurting...suffering in awful ways...both here in our country and all over the world. In January, I had a wonderful time at the Created for Care retreat...a weekend away for women with a heart for adoption. Thanks to Andrea Young for listening to God's whispers and then nurturing this wonderful event to fruition. One thing that struck me yet again this year, was the number of women who go well above merely adopting...by establishing ministries that change lives for entire communities...these women are truly warriors.

So today, in an effort to remember that my child is certainly not the only one suffering, I wanted to list just a few of my favorite organizations. If you are looking for a cause to support, either financially or through prayer or service...these are terrific ministries. They are all small organizations and you are guaranteed that any money or time that you give will not be wasted...it will directly impact the life of another ...almost immediately.

Wiphan - provides training and education to widows and orphans in Zambia
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60 Feet - working to change the lives of imprisoned children in Uganda; the situation with these kids is one of the most heart-breaking I've seen and if you get a chance to see the 60 Feet movie, "Bereaved," watch it...you will never be the same...




Light Gives Heat - Creating sustainable jobs for Africans through various means (i.e. hand-made jewelry, handbags, etc.) and other long-term projects

Amazima - Educating and empowering the people of Uganda,

147 Million Orphans - Changing the lives of orphans

There are so many people hurting in the world and many of them are children. They need us to step out of our "busy-ness," to open our eyes and to really see...

...and once we have seen, we cannot pretend that we didn't...

...we must act.

Watching My Child Suffer

It is before 9:00pm and I am sitting in complete silence. This is a rarity for certain. Typically, we are in the midst of the "putting the kids to bed" circus and quiet is nowhere to be found. It is usually the time for baths and stories and prayers and cuddling. But tonight, Patrick is at home putting the little ones to bed and I am at the hospital with Bailey. It is her first weekend of chemo and this is just one of the many aspects of our new "normal." Last night Patrick and I both stayed, but today we were both exhausted and the little kids were missing us, so we are experimenting with a different plan for this evening.

So I sit. The room is dark, but for one small light over my head. It is silent, but for the hum of the machines. It seems peaceful, though I do not rest...peace is still elusive. The lack of sound is deafening and I must consciously control my mind or else the dark thoughts creep. My baby girl asleep, after a very long day of nausea and sickness. She is sore from her chemo port, she is attached to an IV, her stomach is upset and she has an immobilizer on her knee. At one point today she broke down in tears after an attempt at a simple task resulted in failure, "Mommy, why is everything so hard?"

To watch a child suffer...it is unfathomable. My own hurt cuts deeply enough. Watching her in pain? It is as though my heart is being slowly crushed...beyond repair. She is scared and sad and physically hurting and emotionally broken...and I can do nothing. Nothing. I try to comfort. I try to speak truth. Does it sound believable? I don't know because my voice quivers. How do I walk this little girl through her suffering? How do I protect her heart, her precious spirit? I want her to draw closer to Jesus. I do not want her to grow resentful and angry. But can I do this when I am struggling myself? I feel ill-equipped. I'm a mama. I'm supposed to take away the hurt...but in this...I cannot. I can only sit with her, hold her hand, pray for her as she walks through her own portion of this terrifying journey. I feel helpless and broken.

I sit in the silence and watch my baby sleep. No answers tonight.

I don't know how to do this.

Quick Update

I've been putting detailed updates on the other website, so if you need that info, just let me know. Here is the quick synopsis for those prefer the short version.

Bailey has a bone tumor just above her right knee. It is Osteosarcoma. Both her chest and bone scans were clear and so it appears to be localized. The plan for Osteosarcoma is fairly standard and she will begin treatment this week and doctors are very hopeful. She will do about three months of chemo, have surgery to remove the tumor and then do another six months of chemo. It sounds simple when I list it out this way, but of course it isn't. There are side effects and blood counts and all sorts of things to deal with. The surgery piece is also huge and will likely present some choices that could be life changing, so that is scary as well.

Those are the basics...I wish it were all as simple as it sounds when I write it this way. For now we are focusing on today...one day at a time. The big picture is optimistic, but long and arduous and I think breaking it into pieces is the only way to walk through this.

We covet your prayers for a surgery solution that is greater than we'd ever hoped and for complete healing.

No Quick Fix

My last post was about the wrestling match I was having with God in my search for peace in the middle of our nightmare. If this were a movie, now it would be time for the part where I say that I have worked through all of the issues, surrendered...and then it would be all wrapped up in a neat little "I am thankful for my suffering because..." package.

But this isn't a movie, this is my life and quite honestly, I hate it right now. I am still kicking and screaming, longing for what was as I struggle to adjust to this new normal. It is hard. So hard. I do have moments now, where this is a small measure of peace...but it is still fleeting and it is usually quickly erased by the random tsumanis of grief that come flooding back in unexpectedly. I can be perfectly fine one minute and then the next, in the depths of despair.

This is a process...and I doubt that I will ever have it completely wrapped up in some neat little God story, ready for a testimony video in church. I suspect there will be times of peace and times of utter doubt and fear and it is going to be about continually, repeatedly choosing to trust Him. It will not be a once and done thing...it is much too complex and painful for that. I may never even fully know or grasp the reasons why we had to go through this. Sometimes after surviving a trial we have a very clear understanding of why we walked through it and in other instances, we may not know until we meet Jesus. This terrifies me...all of this. I like plans and schedules and keeping my emotions in check...this messiness frightens me. The pain, the refining, being immersed in the fire...there are no words for how difficult it is.

So for now, no epiphanies...no complete and utter surrenders without looking back. Maybe at some point I will gain a bit of clarity, but right now...I'm just trying to stay afloat amidst the agony in my heart...praying that peace and strength come....otherwise, I am not strong enough to survive the muck...

A Raging Storm

Did you know that the discipleship curriculum my group has been studying in recent weeks is about suffering? Seriously. Suffering. Sometimes God whispers to me...other times...it is a bit less subtle. I sat with my sweet group just two weeks ago, as we talked about our greatest fears, and this is what I alluded to. I dared not even say the words, but the thought was there...not my kids God. I am blessed to be at a church with, real, honest, Biblical theology, it is such a gift. If you don't have a church like this, find one. It will change your life. It isn't just, "Oh, let's all have faith, God is good"...prosperity theology. It is real, from the Bible, take it or leave it, but you can't choose bits and pieces theology. We love this. However, that also means that we know truth...and truth applies always - it is not relative and it does not change based on our desires.

Which leads to my current reality. There is a storm raging in my soul right now. Twisting and churning, spinning and brewing. It is ugly - my sin, my doubt, my fear - it is nasty. I know that God is good. He has a plan. He is in control. But the whole truth is that His plan is not always my plan and that for each of us, suffering will be part of our lives at some point...and the suffering we experience...was ordained by Him. It is tough stuff and difficult to wrap your head around. But if you read about suffering in the Bible, you will learn that it is truth.

I'm terrific at loving God when my life is going well...or maybe it is more accurate to say, when I am getting my way. But what about when I am not? When I beg, plead, long...and hear nothing? How do I react then? Well, I will tell you that the reaction is not good. I am like a spoiled child, seeing only myself with no view of the big picture...and it is not pretty. Of course I love Him when the blessings flow, but lately, I have been hearing, "Can you love me if...?"

This is where I have landed at the moment. In an exhausting wrestling match between the knowledge in my head and the pain in my heart. The pain has been so great, more than I have ever known. I wrote this in my journal on Monday:

"A few days with no doctors, no tests, no results - and a glimmer of hope and peace sneak back in. Why is it, that these things seem so contingent on my circumstances? I have seen a brief flicker of light in the last day or two...but was that real peace...or was it because I had experienced a few days with no further bad news? Why does true peace allude?"

I write tonight, wrestling with God. It is as if Bailey and I are standing out on a very long pier in the middle of a hurricane. The waves are huge, the winds swirl, we are wavering as we attempt to stand on our feet. Jesus is there next to us with his hand extended. "Do you trust me? I made you. I made her. I love you both. Beloved, let me have her hand."

My soul longs for peace, but the battle wages on.

Is His love enough?
Is His grace truly sufficient for me?
Do I trust Him?

It isn't about whether or not He will heal her...He is God and His ways are not my ways...but do I trust His plan?

There is a huge mountain in front of us, but this mountain was not a surprise to Him. To us, it seems a deviation from "the plan" - but it is not - He always knew that my sweet Bailey would develop a bone tumor in her leg. He knew. He knew all of the pieces before she was born.

Am I angry? Yes. I watch my baby hurt. I hold her as she cries. My heart breaks.

But the question looms, do I trust Him?

I am certain He will bring my heart there, but peace has not yet come.

For now, the battle in my soul rages on...

Free Falling off the Cliff of My Worst Nightmare...

Three weeks ago we were in Disneyword. Happiness everywhere.

Last weekend was full of sports and family fun.

We were gearing up for another adoption...getting ready to pursue a daughter from China.

Our minds were beginning to anticipate summer, a slower pace, time at the pool, fun trips.

But on Thursday, March 15, 2012...

I became the mother of a child with cancer.

God? Oh Father in Heaven? Are you there...is this really where you are calling us? Please God, no, please...no. I can't. I am not strong enough. It has been a week spent in the pit of Hell. No sign it was coming. No warning to prepare us for the utter explosion of grief that would rip our souls to shreds.

Our ten year old daughter, Bailey, had been complaining about a mild knee injury for about 4-6 weeks. She is extremely active, so we had taken the "wait and see" approach. But by last Sunday, March 11, the pain had gotten bad enough that we decided it was time for an x-ray. The doctor said there was something there and we should have it looked at, but gave us no cause for alarm or possible suggestions as to what could be going on. On Monday morning, I awoke to a frantic call from our pediatrician. She wanted us to have this looked at immediately. On Tuesday, Bailey had an MRI. These results were not good either. Oh...when would this bad news end? It was as if we were spiraling into a black hole...having a nightmare and unable to wake up. On Thursday, she had a biopsy of the problem area...her right leg, just above the knee. By this point, our pediatrician had given us some warning of what was coming. We were so thankful for her because at least it had given us a bit of extra time to process the tragedy that was occurring before our eyes. On Thursday afternoon, the doctor came in with the devastating news...the tumor was malignant...it had been less than five days since we had the first x-ray looking for a sports injury.

This has all happened so quickly, that we are struggling to keep up. One week ago all was good, and now, life will never be the same. We feel completely broken...souls raw and bleeding. God is good. God is good. God is good. I know this in my head...but where is the peace. Why can't I feel it? All that I feel is desperate, unending pain. Despair.

We spent Friday having a CT scan...and praise God...her lungs were clear. We also met with the oncologist, who, relatively speaking, gave us a ray of hope that we are clinging too. We have been told what type of cancer they believe it is, but we need to wait until the pathology reports come back next week to be certain. I am in the process of setting up a website for specifics, so if you are friends or family, e-mail me and I will tell you where to find that.

More info to come...but for now, please pray without ceasing...that the pathology report comes back as early stage with no surprises and that it has not spread...and please pray for the full and complete healing of our little girl.

Atlanta Spartan Sprint 2012

I did a mud race this weekend that was totally awesome. It was a Spartan Race...the one I did was less than four miles and had 15 obstacles...but Spartan has an entire series of races at varying levels. I woke up the next day sore and covered in scratches and bruises...but I totally loved the race and would do it again. Tons of fun!