Exceedingly better than I deserve…that’s how I’m doing.
That’s the short answer to how I’ve been, since I haven’t updated my blog much lately. John has probably taken 10000 photos of our journey, our days, and our family, all of which I hope to eventually share (well, just a few pics perhaps :-)).
In the meantime, I want to let you into the life of the “Kate” for whom we pray (see avatar, above right). In the next few days, I will cover “Todd” and “Matt,” who are also battling cancer, yet staying strong in their faith and walk with Jesus.
The following is from Kate’s care pages and is written by her mom, Holly.
“Monday, July 26, 2010 4:07 PM, MST2 years ago I thought life was stressful. We were again uprooting our family, this time to move to the desert, the suburbs of Phoenix that is. We were moving to start a church none the less. And we were raising money to live on in a less than favorable economy. Not the practical choice in many eyes. We were excited and overwhelmed at the same time. Excited about the possibilities, overwhelmed knowing if God didn’t come through for us, we were in trouble.
I think about those days often. The things I worried about, the things I failed to enjoy amidst the uncertainties. And now we find ourselves in a far more stressful, far more uncertain and heartbreaking situation. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t secretly wish we could go back to those pre cancer days. That I wouldn’t take those stressful moments in exchange for the ones we now face. That I don’t wish I would have taken each day as it came and simply cherished having my three babies home under one roof. Little did we know the mountain that lay ahead as we were so busy climbing that hill.
None of us know what lies ahead for certain. We simply have a poignant reminder each and every day. It came in the form of cancer. So each morning we wake up and are faced with unknowns and oftentimes impending decisions that no parent should ever have to make. Most days I want to crumble. Most days I could shut my blinds, crawl back in bed and cry all day. And cry I do. But I realize just as before, I don’t want to look back and have regrets. I don’t want to waste the time we do have raising our 3 kids. I want to enjoy them in spite of cancer.
It is a battle. And most days it is anything but easy. But we are learning to see the blessings amidst the uncertainties, amidst our heartbreak. To be thankful, even when life is uncertain. So I felt compelled to share just a few of the blessings with you over the next few days…here is one example…
For as long as I can remember Kate has wanted a dog. All of our kids have, but Kate always seemed to beg the loudest. Each time we would lay out the reasons why this wasn’t a good time. After Kate was diagnosed with a brain tumor and had her subsequent brain surgery her love for life seemed to slip away. A frown often replacing her vibrant smile. A blank stare replacing the ever mischievous sparkle in her eyes. There were days we didn’t know if “our Kate” would ever be back. It was crushing.
Finally, after what felt like years (hospital days do) she began to smile again. This was thanks in part to the pet therapy dogs. Every time we saw a dog in the hospital we would beg for them to bring it in Kate’s room to visit. Then through nothing but God orchestrated events, we were put in touch with a family who wanted to provide Kate with a dog, the exact kind we had looked into, but were unable to afford at the time. And so on Kate’s second trip home from inpatient chemotherapy with her thinning hair, mere handful of eyelashes, her feeding tube and assortment of braces, she was given one of her wishes, Patrick, her goldendoodle. There was nothing that could temper her excitement that day, not even cancer. I included a picture so you could see the missing smile that had returned with such vibrance. One of the many blessings amidst the pain.”
You can follow Kate and her family’s journey with cancer on her Carepage link: KATE Please consider signing their guest book, and encouraging this family in some small way.