It’s the flu.

Of course it is. And, yes, we all got the flu shot. But apparently, and we’re living proof, the current flu outbreak in Dallas wasn’t covered by this year’s flu shot. I guess that’s why there’s an outbreak…

So, Avery has the flu, Gage might have it and Ellie and Wesley feel okay. Blake and I feel like ‘pre-flu’ victims, but who really has time to give in to all the symptoms when you’re taking care of everyone else. The doctor prescribed TamiFlu for everyone, but said Avery will still probably have 5+ days of fever, during all of which she’ll be contagious. And, I don’t think Blake and I are getting sleep anytime soon.

And, an aside that Blake and I have discussed lately: People often try to encourage us by saying, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” I know that people mean well in saying that God will be with us during these hard times, but I think that statement can be a real burden to those enduring unbearable trials. Does God think that people can ‘handle’ watching their child suffer, continually hearing conflicting and heartbreaking news about their child’s health or, much worse, losing a child? Of course, there are many, many areas in life that cause people to struggle and suffer, but this is the struggle we witness almost daily. Can I ‘handle’ what our family has gone thru? No. It was beyond my strength and ability the moment the doctor told us Gage has leukemia. Can God ‘handle’ it? Yes. Yes. Yes. Still, is it easy to lean on Him and daily cast our cares and worries on Him? No.

So what encourages me? The truth. I can’t handle this battle. My friends, new & old, who are facing incredible hardship can’t handle it. We were never meant to handle it. And, yes, He most certainly gives us more than we can bear on our own. Only God can handle it. His plan was never for us to live life on our own, in good times or bad.

John 15:5

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.

That comforts me because that’s a truth strong enough, and real enough, to stand up to our reality with Gage and the daunting circumstances I see friends face daily. It’s a burden removed, because it’s a burden I was never meant to carry.

Please pray that we would make it through this flu-episode without anyone else getting the full-blown flu, and that we would rely on the Lord moment by moment thru the long days.

RH

Under the Shadow of His Wing

I continue to find comfort in the Psalms. Mostly, I appreciate the psalmists’ honesty and unwavering devotion. How often I find my own heart echoing their sentiment.

Psalm 91, in particular, has captured my attention. After spending some time meditating on it, I decided to write this poem. Reluctantly, I share it with you in hope that it will prompt you to read this great psalm and find strength to face what troubles you.

Under the Shadow of His Wing

Though trappers’ snares I fail to see,
My God, in whom I trust, saves me.
Under the shadow of His wing,
Peace and security, He brings.

Though the sun sets and darkness falls,
My Lord and Savior hears my call.
Under the shadow of His wing,
Soon will be no more suffering.

Though thousands may fall at my side,
He promises to be my Guide.
Under the shadow of His wing,
Praises to my Lord, I will sing.

Though snakes and lions lurk nearby,
He securely sets me on high.
Under the shadow of His wing,
All glory given to my King.

On the road to a cure . . .

BH

Complaint Box

Forgive me. I’m usually not one to complain, and I don’t tolerate whining from my kids. In fact, the chalkboard in our kitchen even reads, “Do all things without complaining or arguing . . . ” (Philippians 2:14). Yet, that is exactly what I’m about to do.

Wouldn’t you know it? The week after we finally get Gage off his steroids, Avery is at home sick with a fever, Rebecca has a sore throat, Ellie has a cough and Gage has a runny nose. (Even as I write this, I ask myself, “Who is ever going to believe this craziness???”) With the exception of Wesley, I’m the last man standing; destined for pneumonia or some other dreaded virus.

There is no real point to this post other than to complain. I’m sure I’ll regret publishing such an impulsive post later. Yes, it could be worse. Yes, we have a lot to be thankful for. Yes, yes, yes, but sometimes a fella just needs to vent. Can I hear an “Amen!”?

Agh!!!!

On the road to a cure (and the insane asylum) . . .

BH

A ‘no clinic’ Monday!

Gage just walked by the computer, saw the blog and asked me how many people have prayed for him today. The answer, mid-afternoon on Monday, is 624. I realize everyone may not pray each time they read, but it’s still a lot of people checking up on how he’s doing. He was encouraged…and so are we.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to go to clinic today! Yeah! We will go next Monday to have his counts checked, but shouldn’t have to stay for anything further. Of course, that’s if everything goes as planned…and it rarely does.

I did have to call the clinic today because Gage is having some pain in his lower back and shoulder joints. The nurse said the cause is likely a “rebound” from the steroids, meaning that it’s his body’s reaction to stopping the steroids he took last week. If you’ve ever stopped drinking caffeinated drinks and had a nasty headache, you’ve experience your body’s revolt at missing something that it’s grown accustomed to. So, if the “rebound” pains continue to happen after his 5-day steroid runs, they might consider changing his dosage to wean him off the steroids more gradually. For now, we just take pain medicine.

We were able to enjoy the beautiful day yesterday outside with the kids. After all the days spent separated and/or in the hospital, a day to play outside together is a real treat.

Please continue to pray for us as we set habits, boundaries and expectations for this next stage as a family. Please pray that Ellie and Wesley, who both have a cold, would feel better soon and not pass it to anyone else, especially Gage. Please also pray for Gage that he would begin to feel better physically, as the doctors have told us he would.

Thanks for checking in and for praying!

RH

P.S. In the category of our evolving “new normal,” I took all four kids, solo, out and about on Saturday morning: Upward basketball game, snack at Celebrity, Learning Express for a birthday gift and to a birthday party for one of Ellie’s friends…whew!

Brokenhearted

Psalm 34:18

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Please pray for our friends from Children’s, Janna & Matt Shuford, whose precious nine-month-old son Dawson went to be with the Lord on Tuesday morning. His memorial service is at 11:00 a.m. Friday. Only the Lord could sustain a family during such a tragic, heartbreaking loss, so please take a moment to approach the Lord’s throne of grace on their behalf.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/dawsonshuford

RH

Cowboys!

Today, Gage met Troy Aikman and Roger Staubach at a photo shoot for an upcoming charity luncheon for the Children’s Cancer Fund that he’s been asked to participate in. He was excited to meet them and have them sign his new Cowboys football, although he did ask why they weren’t in uniform. In his words, “the kids would like it more” if they wore their uniforms.

I (Rebecca) told Gage he better keep a close eye on his newly autographed football because Blake seems to really like it as well. Gage was also able to see his friend Laurren, which was just as exciting to him as meeting the Cowboys.

We’re a couple days into the steroids and definitely feeling it. Although Gage tries his best, the steroids basically take over his emotions…and ruin his sleep. So, each day we have good times in between extreme times of tears, yelling and irrational demands. Thankfully, we only have to endure five days (and a couple days for them to wear off) until we get the real Gage back.

Please pray for us as we need patience and wisdom to care for him and for the girls as they certainly don’t get as much attention right now.

RH

“Easy”

This morning, Blake and I took Gage to clinic in anticipation of starting the maintenance phase of his treatment. This stage will last a little less than three years and should end in September 2010, close to his 8th birthday. His counts were high enough today to start, so here is what the next few years will look like medically for Gage.

Maintenance consists of 12-week cycles that we will continually repeat:

Week one: Chemo by spinal tap and chemo through his port (both at clinic), a nightly chemo and 5 days of twice-daily steroids (at home)…in addition to medicines for nausea and reflux

Weeks two through four: Chemo on Monday and nightly chemo (all at home)

Week five: like week one, minus the spinal tap

Weeks six thru eight: same as weeks 2-4

Week nine: same as week 5

Weeks ten thru twelve: same as weeks 2-4

Then, we start all over again with Week One.

So, this is supposed to be the “easy” part. As you can tell, though, it’s only ‘easy’ in comparison to how hard the last six months have been…and it certainly doesn’t seem easy on a day like today. Even the bottle of medicine I picked up for him today was a bit jarring with all of its hazardous stickers on it. Hard to believe I’m putting this inside my child.

Also, the nightly chemo he’ll take for the next several years has to be taken at bedtime and a couple hours after finishing eating. So, we’ll get used to paying great attention to when dinner starts and ends so that we can give him his medicine without having to keep him up too late or waking him to take it (never a good idea). And, I’m sure we’ll learn how to handle it all so that Blake and I can occasionally leave home at night too.

So, today was a great milestone that has been a long time coming. The doctors say Gage should gradually feel better over the next couple months. I hope that’s true, but it’s hard to imagine that he might actually feel (and look) like a child without leukemia. Still, I’m encouraged by how much better he felt even last week.

And, I know that the Lord will carry us through these next years as He has carried us through these last six months. I often think of the words to the hymn ‘Great is Thy Faithfulness’: “All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.”

Thanks for your prayers today, as always.

RH

My Favorite? Blame Your Sisters

Yesterday was as “normal” of a day we have had since Gage’s diagnosis. The kids laughed and played without giving any thought to hospitals, doctors or medicine.

The only time we even needed to talk about Gage’s condition was in preparation for Avery’s basketball game.

“Now, Gage, there will be a lot of kids at Avery’s game. Many of them will be curious about why you don’t have any hair. I don’t want you to be upset if someone asks you a question or says something they shouldn’t say. So, let’s think of some ways you can respond.”

“OK, daddy,” he said excitedly.

Here are our top 3 favorite responses:

1. Bad shampoo
2. All crazy people lose their hair (followed by a loud scream)
3. (And my favorite) My sisters pulled it out

Of course, when we got there, a little girl asked him, “Why are you bald?”

I started to answer with reply #2, but then Gage interrupted me. “Oh, just tell her the truth, dad.”

Then, I found myself struggling with how to tell her the truth in 10 seconds or less without opening up a huge can of worms. I didn’t have much luck.

Sometimes, it’s just better to laugh it off.

On the road to a cure . . .

BH

The Music of My Heart

There is something incredibly comforting about the Book of Psalms. The psalms were the songbook of Israel. Maybe that is why I enjoy them so much. I love music.

Like the music of today, they reflect the full gamut of our emotions. Some are slow and sorrowful. Others are upbeat and joyful. Whatever I’m experiencing today, I am sure that I can find a corresponding psalm that matches the emotion of my heart.

For the past six months, since the time of Gage’s diagnosis, my heart has been both sickened with grief and elated with joy. Psalm 77 summarizes well my faith journey over the past six months. Asaph, the writer of the psalm, begins by saying:

1 I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.

2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands
and my soul refused to be comforted.

3 I remembered you, O God, and I groaned;
I mused, and my spirit grew faint.

I remember those first few weeks in June like they were yesterday. I, like the psalmist, cried out continuously to God for help. Throughout the night, I longed for Him to hear my prayers, but nothing seemed to ease my pain. My “soul refused to be comforted” and my “spirit grew faint” with each turn in Gage’s health.

Asaph continues:

4 You kept my eyes from closing;
I was too troubled to speak.

5 I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;

6 I remembered my songs in the night.

I, too, like Asaph would think about “the former days” before Gage’s diagnosis and all the things we used to enjoy as a family. I could see Gage chasing his sisters in the yard, hear him laughing again and feel the strength with which he used to hug me. All of that, as if over night, was suddenly gone.

I began to ask the Lord questions. I didn’t pull any punches. The question of “Why?” didn’t plague me as much as, “What is going to happen?”, “How am I supposed to lead my family through this?”, and “Where are you, Lord?”

Asaph wasn’t afraid to ask hard questions either:

My heart mused and my spirit inquired:

7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?

8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?

9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”

Two things that the psalmist observed also kept me from the pit of despair: the character of God (vv. 10-15) and the works of God (vv. 16-20).

10 Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

11 I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

12 I will meditate on all your works
and consider all your mighty deeds.

13 Your ways, O God, are holy.
What god is so great as our God?

14 You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.

15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.
Selah

I had to continually remind myself that the character of God never changes. As these verses teach, He is holy, powerful and caring regardless of our circumstances. There have certainly been times when I questioned His character and wondered, but then I would remember His faithfulness throughout the years.

Asaph also looked back to when the Lord redeemed Israel from Egypt:

16 The waters saw you, O God,
the waters saw you and writhed;
the very depths were convulsed.

17 The clouds poured down water,
the skies resounded with thunder;
your arrows flashed back and forth.

18 Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,
your lightning lit up the world;
the earth trembled and quaked.

19 Your path led through the sea,
your way through the mighty waters,
though your footprints were not seen.

Asaph found comfort in the Exodus, whereas I found comfort in the cross. Apart from the cross, we are without hope. Yet, it is at the cross that peace and reassurance can be found.

The psalm closes by reminding me that the Lord is our Shepherd:

20 You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Today, my heart is still tender. Gage, thankfully, is doing well. Yet, my eyes still well up with tears at random times. I think I’ve moved past the “Where are you, Lord?” type of questioning, and I’m learning what it means to really trust Him as my Shepherd.

Grief has many expressions. Thankfully, the psalms show us that it is okay to grieve, but also imperative that we continue to trust in the Lord even when our circumstances seem to suggest that He has betrayed us.

The cross is proof that He never will.

On the road to a cure . . .

BH

Wow

The title to my (Rebecca’s) last post, Navigating New Waters, continues to describe life these last few days as Gage spends more time out of the house and around other kids.

Yesterday, he wanted to go visit his friends at school. Although he hasn’t actually attended pre-school this year, he knows what class he is supposed to be in, and it’s filled with his friends from previous years at the school.

He decided he wanted to visit during snack time. So, we arrived a bit early and were able to spend a few minutes on the playground as well. The whole scene is a bit overwhelming for him, as he is unsure of who to play with, if he can still do things he used to do on the same playground, etc.

One friend, clearly glad to see him, ran up and excitedly said, “Gage! You’re here! Look, you still have no hair! Have you been at the hospital? I thought you were going to die!”

Wow.

Stunned silence from both Gage and me, standing nearby. The little boy then turned his attention elsewhere, Gage stood still considering the words for a moment, and then moved on to talk with other friends. We stayed for snack time and a bit of gym too, and then returned home.

In the car, Gage said that he had enjoyed his time at school, except for when the boy said, “I thought you were going to die.” Yes, I agreed, that was not my favorite part either. I shared with Gage that I didn’t think his friend meant to be unkind and has clearly missed him (which I also know from his mother). I also said that his friend has probably never had a friend with leukemia before, and he doesn’t know what to say…or very much about leukemia either.

We also talked about how Dr. Leavy, Gage’s main doctor, knows much, much more about leukemia, and he does not share Gage’s friend’s opinion. I told him, “Gage, Dr. Leavy and the doctors at Children’s know all about leukemia, and they don’t think that at all. They know exactly what you have and exactly how to help your body get better. And, after you take all your medicine for the next few years, you will be done with leukemia.” Still, I know it was a pretty shocking moment for both of us.

Later, Blake and I talked about it with him at bedtime. I’m so thankful that I overheard the comments, and that Gage shared them with me as well, because we’ve never really talked about the connection between cancer and death. I know from some of Gage’s comments that he has considered the connection, but he has never brought it up directly, and we have followed his lead in talking about what he’s been ready to discuss.

So, last night was a big conversation. We talked about that some people who have cancer do die, but that his type of cancer is one that the doctors know how to cure. We talked about Heaven…that when people who believe that Jesus died for them on the cross die, they are able to be with Jesus and the people who love Him in a place with no sickness and no crying. Believe me, after all that the three of us have seen at Children’s, the idea of a place with no sickness and no crying is a beautiful thought.

Although these daily conversation are emotional and certainly make our daily outings eventful and unpredictable, I am thankful for the opportunities to share more with Gage about the Lord who created him and loves him. I often have to remind myself that although Gage’s battle with leukemia will mark him physically in ways that sadden me, the Lord can also use it to mark Gage (and the rest of us) spiritually in ways that can reap benefits for eternity.

I John 5:11-12

…God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has life…

So, hopefully we won’t hear comments like this every day, but when we do, we will continue to take the opportunity to make a difference eternally in the lives of our children…and us. Please pray that the Lord would continue to guide us as we guide our kids, and Gage in particular, through these new waters. (Amazingly enough, he wants to go back to school on Friday and bring the snack…)

RH