CHASE AWAY CANCER

Marking A Year Of Another Kind

Bob and Chase preparing for the MRI - Thursday, August 14, 2014 — Bob and Chase preparing for the MRI – Thursday, August 14, 2014

We’re supposed to “throw back” on Thursdays and “flash back” on Fridays and today is yet another date to mark. Recently, we’ve had an awful lot of “one year ago”, “two years ago”, and so on, but sometimes the days are really long, the years are short and stressful, and rehearsing our previous survivals and God’s goodness to us in them is the only way to keep breathing. And so, we go back…again.

One year ago today, I stood in the barren kitchen of a newly bought house (a seeming symbol of a fresh start), staring out at the view that would be my new back yard, and listening to the voice on the other end of the phone as my stomach dropped: “His spine looks clear and overall, his brain looks amazing, but…”

Those words kicked off a season of deep shadow that has been some of the most difficult waiting since his initial diagnosis. The every six week scans, the waiting for growth…

But today, we are stopping to mark and remember that Chase has now lived for one year, one whole year with his tumor bed growths/radiation effects/whatever they are and he’s lived as fully and well as ever he can. We’re so thankful.

It’s incredibly frightening to write these words -about how well Chase is doing and how long he’s gone without an issue- when he’s about 72 hours away from another MRI. But no matter what happens in this next week, today is a good day and we’ll take it one breath at a time in the… moment by moment.

“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.” Deut. 31:8

Ten Thousand Reasons For My Heart To Find…

“Wait here”, the manager said, and we leaned against the wall, all six of us, like a giant line-up. I turned to Chase and whispered: “Are you excited to meet Matt Redman?” and he nodded and grinned as we leaned against the wall in the wait.

I suppose we expected fanfare, or a crowd, or something to herald this amazing artist – but suddenly, humbly and quietly (I didn’t even from which direction he came), he was standing in front of us and there were no handshakes – only hugs. He said he’d heard a lot about us and then he moved down the line of us and greeted each one, learning names and personal details. He met Karsten’s stuffed dog, talked with Darcy about her loom bracelets and their colors, and got on his knees in front of Chase and Aidan and asked them if Spiderman and Batman were in a competition, who would win?

And the craziest, most amazing part of it all? We got to stand in front of Matt Redman, look him in the eye, and try and put into words what the song 10,000 Reasons means to us….

How it underscores every car ride to the hospital…

How it’s floated out of most pre-procedure rooms…

How most of the hematology and oncology staff have been shown the music video at one time or other…

How it was the last thing Chase heard every day as he whispered “I’m so brave” and slipped into unconsciousness on the radiation days…

How every music therapist in the hospital downloaded the chords because they knew if they went to Chase’s room, it’d be the song he’d want to hear…

How it wrapped us up as we’d sit, high about the lake, day after day in the dark cancer days when the fevers wouldn’t break and the cancer cells wouldn’t leave…

Oh how we failed! There are not having enough words, enough good words to put into a few sentences what three years of this song as a soundtrack to our lives has meant. How precious it is to us, and how precious Matt Redman is to us because of it. There have been times and seasons when our hearts were broken and we could not call out, and the only thing that came from us to God were Matt’s words, Matt’s voice in this song as we had none left ourselves. This song has been one of the greatest gifts — until last night when we got the opportunity to try and find the words to tell him of it’s impact.

And how I wish you all could have been with us and watched as Chase sang along to so many of the songs, raised his arms in worship, clapped and cheered, even danced a little. And at the end of the night, before the closing song, the room got quiet as Matt spoke and he told them all about how he’d just met a family and the kids were all “firecrackers” (I mean, did he get us or what?) and that one of the sons had a brain tumor and then, Matt Redman told the room a minute of our story and Chase’s love of the song because – as he said – we were there to worship, but the church is always there to bear each other’s burdens, and we are the church, and as I sat in the hundreds of people, with Chase on my lap, Matt Redman invited the church to bear Chase’s journey with us, as a picture of Chase went up on all the screens, and Chase gasped and exclaimed “That’s me!”. Matt dedicated the song to the Lord, but said they’d sing it with Chase that night, and so we all stood together in this great room with hundreds around us and cried as we sang every word by heart – the way God put things together blew me away yet again.

And on that day when my strength is failing,
The end draws near and my time has come,
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending…
Ten thousand years, and then forevermore.

And all the way home, late into the night, Chase chatted on about “my friend Mr. Matt” and how he loved him and missed him and wanted to give him another hug “…because he sang my song, Mom! He sang my song!”

We are so thankful for this once-in-a-lifetime experience of worship and fellowship…

…moment by moment.

*For more on the ministry and music of Matt Redman, please visit his website here.*

Of Wheelchairs And Joy

Her life as she knew it changed forever when she was 17 and she has faithfully used the crazy hard changes for truth and beauty and just recently, the children and I had the great privilege of actually meeting Joni Eareckson Tada. I watched their faces and they were afraid to get too close lest they hurt her – they have yet to fully understand her wheelchair and it’s reasons – but she smiled at them and encouraged them to come closer and they couldn’t resist her joy.

Do you know her story? It’s real and it’s raw and she’s a hero of mine because she never stops seeking the goodness of God when all the life circumstances are anything but. Knowing her story, listening to her speak, reading her writing – all of it – is such a wonderful reminder that the day for no pain and tears is coming. It is not today, but it’s coming, and God remains faithful while we wait.

Moment by moment.

“There is no circumstance, no trouble, no testing, that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and past Christ, right through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with a great purpose.” – Alan Redpath

[This quote is a favorite of mine and is listed among Mrs. Tada’s favorites as well.]

Three Years And A Letter

This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

Friday, July 31, 2015

My Chasey-Bear,

How very far you’ve come! When they first put a name to the giant ball inside your head, the nightmare of it spreading through your skull and down your back, I read that “long term survival” was 3-5 years, and now, here you are: at the three year mark.

I know you don’t like me to even speak about the hospital on the majority of days and it’s okay, we can mostly play on your terms, but today is different. This day in your short history, you were on nobody’s terms and only God himself knew what came next as we learned the unfolding: that you would carry a terminal illness with you the rest of your breath here on earth.

I still remember how small you looked in that first ER bed, how confused your eyes were, and how rosy your cheeks got from all the steroids they pumped in as they tried to save you from yourself before the damage became too great.

I remember holding the oxygen mask to your face and thinking it couldn’t really be happening, and if we were in a movie, that would have been the moment for slow motion and an audible heart beat. Because sometimes life feels like it’s slowly tearing apart.

We’ve given you over to Jesus more times than I can count and held you close even more time than that. Yet here you are, still on your journey, standing smack in the middle of your life road, laughing at anything barreling down on you – and how we love you for your fierce, “you-and-what-army” self.

I know these days turned into years have not been easy for you – and I know “not been easy” is a gross understatement.

None of us know how much further this road continues, but I know if it’s with you – as I’ve known from the first time you kicked inside of me – it will never be dull. And so we’ll just keep at it as we have tried to all along… in His grace, moment by moment.

All our love, my darling survivor,

Daddy and Mama

Your grace abounds in deepest waters. Your sovereign hand will be my guide.
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, You’ve never failed and You won’t start now. So I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves when oceans rise. My soul will rest in Your embrace, for I am Yours and You are mine. ~Oceans, Hillsong United

Of Birth Order, Stature, And What Really Counts…

“Are they twins?” The lady smiled as she gestured to Chase and Karsten – brothers born 22 months apart.

The man bent forward to talk to Chase, who will be six in December: “I have a granddaughter who is three like you, too!”

As we sat at the lunch table one day last week, we talked about who had been born first in our family and Chase kept insisting he was the baby. We tried to point out several times, in several ways, that he is older than Karsten, yet he refused to accept it and finally, the source of his reasoning became clear: “But I’m the baby of the family because I’m the smallest!” And just like that, it was spoken. He sees and understands – on some level – the radiation damage in it’s unfolding.

I’ve considered this moment for some time and it’s here. Karsten is as tall as Chase. It’s neck-and-neck, but it’s happened. Karsten, at nearly four, stands as tall and far more broad than his older brother. And Aidan, though a scant 12-months older, stands nearly a head taller than both of them.

It’s heartbreaking to see this and it’s precious because Chase is alive, and it never stops being amazing to hear his wise, old voice come out of such a tiny body.

So, I’ll keep the smaller size of clothing in the drawer knowing Chase will probably use them a little longer. And if stature were measured in experience, he’d already be ten feet tall.

Moment by moment.

“The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7b