A Battle To Fight

Hear my cry, O God; Attend to my prayer.   From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.  For You have been a shelter for me, A strong tower from the enemy.  I will abide in Your tabernacle forever; I will trust in the shelter of Your wings.   Psalm 61:1-4

So... it has been 10 months since my last blog entry.   I wanted to continue writing after I regained my health from cancer last year but life got so busy and I honestly wasn't sure where to go with it since it had begun as a way to document my journey with cancer.     I came to the conclusion that I would write again but only when I had the inspiration to do so.    My much unwanted current situation, some hospital room numbers, and my oldest daughter has given me that nudge.    Just a couple of days ago she texted me and said "Daddy, remember that thing u were writing when you were sick last year?   U should write in that thing again..."    Evie is actually a budding writer herself.    I asked her if she would co-write this revival of my blog & she said yes!  This first part is from me.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of bad news.    About 2 weeks ago my wife, Cherish, noticed that my youngest daughter's, Esther, left eye was crooked.  We suspected a lazy eye. Cherish reached out to her pediatrician, which led to an optician, and then a pediatric ophthalmologist, who sent her that day to Roanoke Memorial Hospital for an emergency MRI, for which Esther has to be sedated for the first time in her young life.   I went up to join Cherish & Esther expecting to bring them home the next day. The MRI detected a mass under her left eye which was pressing on her eye ball, causing the crooked eye.  Instead of going home my 6 year old daughter and Cherish were being transported by ambulance, in the middle of the night, to the UNC Children's Hospital in Chapel Hill, NC.  I followed behind in the car, getting to the hospital at 3 a.m.  Sunday afternoon Esther was sedated for a second time for a biopsy but instead the surgeon was able to remove the entire mass, which was good news, however, he was not able to remove the surrounding tissue.   The next day was a day of waiting, playing with Esther, and hoping for good news.    The following day is when the bomb was dropped, when the pediatric oncologist told us our sweet, beautiful, full of life, little girl had cancer and would at least need 6 months of chemo + radiation, and would need to have a port fitted along with additional tests to determine whether or not the cancer had spread.    So... we went from Friday thinking she had a lazy eye to finding out on Tuesday (4 days later) that she instead had cancer.

My entire world collapsed.   I have never felt so overwhelmed by grief and despair.   Someone said the worst thing in the world is not being told you have cancer, it's being told your child has cancer.  It felt like it was not real.  Like I could blink and everything would change.  Still to this point she has not had a headache, a temperature, a sore throat, not even a sniffle.  She has bags of energy and is happy.  Esther just wants to know one thing, "when can I go home?"   I struggled to know what to say to my family, my church, and others.  I have spoken so much about God being good but in that moment I began to wonder if He really is good and if He truly cares.   I felt an incredible urge to grab my wife and daughter and just run away.   Leave everything:  my job, the ministry, and just hide with my family.   I knew that wasn't logical but I felt it just the same.   I said to Cherish I think I might need some counseling.  I felt like I just wanted to sit in the corner and cry.  I was feeling this way when my mother in law, Sissy, and sister in law, Gwynn, came to visit.    I left them to visit with Cherish and Esther while I caught up on work and tried to keep my mind off things.   Before they left Sissy went up to see Esther's room and I chatted with Gwynn for a few minutes.

While we were talking, with emotion in her voice, Gwynn said "I feel like you are being attacked." When she said that, it somehow registered deep inside of my spirit and without thinking my reaction was "well then we've got to fight."   In that moment, a light came on inside me.  I began to see that the enemy of our souls that had tried to take me out last year had now attached the most vulnerable one of our family.    His goal was to cause me to give up as he knew what lives would be affected if I did so.   The lives of my wife, children, congregation, and anyone else that looks to me as an example or for inspiration, counsel, or encouragement.  

As I walked back to our hospital room,  I began to think of the significance of the room numbers we had been in since first being admitted to the hospital in Roanoke, VA.    Each one had been significant.  I noticed things about the room numbers at the time but I hadn't yet connected the dots to see a pattern.  That first night our room number in Roanoke was 1131, the last four numbers of my wife's phone number.  The first room we were in at the UNC Hospital was floor 7, room 22.   In the Bible, 7 is the number of God (created world in 7 days, etc.).    22 is the day of my birthday.    In the room we had just been relocated to earlier that day that we were now on floor 5, room 5.  In the Bible, 5 is the number of grace.  Those may be coincidence but I take them as a hint that God is still with us, He knows, and He cares, and... He is still good.    I didn't notice all of that until I began to see my daughter's sickness for the attack it truly was.

The next part of this blog is written by our 15 year old daughter Evie, who loves her little sister very much and also loves to write.   "This week has been a bit confusing and unreal.   All we knew last Friday was that Esther was at the hospital and that Daddy had to drive down because Mommy didn't have a car.  When I knew something was really wrong was when my parents and little sister weren't home by Sunday.   Daddy never likes to be out of church on the Sunday after Youth Camp.   I remember having to fight back tears all of that day.  I couldn't smile for more than a minute without it fading back into a frown.   We are so lucky to have a loving & caring family who are jumping at the chance to help.  If not for our family this week would have been much harder.  Monday as I was feeding our chickens in the morning I suddenly had the idea to tell Daddy to start his blog again.   Then Daddy called and asked me if I would like to write in the blog.   I'm very glad to have this opportunity to give you all my opinion on what is going on."

And Evie, I'm very glad to have your help and to do this together!!   In a few minutes the medical team will come and get my little girl.  She will be sedated again and along with additional tests will be fitted with a port, which will match the one that I still have in my body.   I am quite sure that emotions will overwhelm me again and the urge to run may again become strong.  But, I must not give in to despair. I will not surrender to the enemy.  Too many lives would be affected if I did.  But... I do need the strength that only comes from God.  In the words of the psalm at the beginning of this blog entry "when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I."