This Bloody Season (Tom, Graces and Mercies)

I guess I'm ready to write this post, now.

For anyone who hasn't been paying attention, Ian went to be with our Lord at Midnight on Thursday, February 19th. He left peacefully, and for that we are grateful.

I guess I'm handling things much better than I had ever imagined. Before we ever knew about the tumor, I always put an event like this into a strictly theoretical, almost academic light. If something were to happen to Ian, then I would give myself permission to completely lose it. "Losing it" took any number of self-destructive behaviors that I don't need to go into now. Suffice to say that if I were to do that, I would no longer care about my wife, my relationship with God, my friends and family, much less myself.

But, that's not where I find myself right now, and I'm surprised. I remember the emotional minefield that I was walking back in May, when we received our initial diagnosis. Holding my composure became all I could do. Every so often, I would trigger an emotional mine and the grief would overtake me. Eventually, I stopped fighting it and allowed myself to weep when it occurred, so that the pain wouldn't be prolonged.

In November, when we received news that the tumor was regrowing, I found myself in the same minefield, but this time I knew how to walk it better. As Ian continued to change and decline, I discovered, my grief having found its outlet, that I was better able to take care of him. In this past week, I came to the point where I could honestly ask God for His mercy, knowing what that meant. Until that point, I was clinging to my little boy, hoping for a healing but willing to keep him in his broken state, just for my own selfishness.

Now, Ian is running on legs that are stronger than any decathelete. He sees more clearly than anyone on this Earth ever has, taking in colors that I have never imagined. He is hearing music sung to the Lord of Hosts that is woven with tones more exquisite than anything conceived here. He is becoming acquainted with people who have loved him before he was born, and at least one or two that loved him in this world.

Most of all, he is in the presence of the One who made him, the One who loved him first and the One who loves him best. If scripture is to be believed...and it is...then Ian, in his new body, has met Jesus, in His redeemed body. To say that Ian is in the presence of the Lord is not a mystical concept, nor is it third-person. I have been in the presence of Paul Simon and Bono in that we were in the same room with one another, but that room was huge, and there was no interaction. Those men were not conscious of me in any way. On the other hand, Ian is in the presence of the King of Creation, who is intimately aware of Ian's presence, and was excited for this to occur. They are together in the same way as when he and I would lock arms in a hug: bodily, emotionally and spiritually. On Thursday morning, Ian fulfilled that for which he was created, and the desires of Yahweh were complete: The King of the universe was finally in perfect communion with His beloved creation.

I realize that when I mourn, I mourn for myself. As a father who has lost intimate contact with his son, I have a dim insight into how God has mourned for the relationship He desires with each of us until we are reconciled through Christ. I have not "lost" my son, and it's unfortunate that term is often used out of convenience. The only thing lost is contact, and even that is temporary. We have merely prepared and sent him ahead to the new home where we will meet again.

* * *

I've titled this post This Bloody Season, and that is what I have come to call the last nine months. "Bloody" was the most polite way I came up with to accurately describe how I feel. I haven't used the phrase here, because it denotes an anger that I didn't want broadcast to the world. This Bloody Season is now coming to a close.

But, after next weekend, This Bloody Season will start to fade, and the next one will dawn. Deb and I have wondered both individually and together what the next season will look like. We will have more freedom, but we are different people than we were before Ian was born. I'm sure that we will travel more. Hopefully, we will watch TV less (and at least watch better content.) Now that God has removed some dreams but fulfilled our biggest one, we wait for Him to give us new ones.

Update: If I were to make a bet, then I would guess that a trip to Colorado is in the future. And Bermuda...

Benefit Information (Graces and Mercies)

Friends at the company where I work (Data Recognition Corporation) have organized three benefit opportunities for our family:

• CiCi's Pizza in Plymouth has graciously agreed to host a day where you can eat pizza for Ian! On Wednesday, February 18th, if you mention the Ian Henderson benefit at the register, CiCi's will donate to our benefit fund.
  


• On February 23rd, a raffle will be held! Prizes include: a $50 movie gift certificate, a Nikon CoolPix S202 camera, an iPod Nano, and a Nintendo Wii!
  


• A silent auction will also be held on February 23rd. Items up for bid include rounds of golf, a muskie fishing trip, jewelry and more!
  

Information about these opportunities can be found at http://ianhendersonbenefit.shutterfly.com/.

Update: If you do not live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, but wish to participate in either the auction or the raffle, please contact Julie Albertson at 612-327-5972, or at albertsons@comcast.net. Thanks, Julie!

No Ship Coming In (Graces and Mercies)

We've all seen it: At the climax of a movie, when everything seems hopeless, the heroes are rescued in a big, big way. At the end of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers*, when the heroes are completely hemmed in by the forces of Isengard (the bad guys), Gandalf shows up at dawn with the Riders of Rohan to defeat the enemies (it's the Middle Earth equivalent of the cavalry riding in to save the day, only much cooler). In Raiders of the Lost Ark, wrath of God saves Indy and Marion from certain execution. When all hope seems lost, and the stakes are the highest, there's part of us that believes the rescue should be huge and grand, completely eclipsing whatever was threatening us.

That's what I keep waiting and praying for. I want the supernatural equivalent of a battleship group to show up. Something big, wiping away any doubt of the source of healing. But that hasn't happened, yet. What I'm getting is more like oxygen. God's grace seems to be surrounding us, sustaining us...but it hasn't delivered us at this point.

I'm quick to forget the multitude of small miracles in my expectation of the big one. It seems like
our Lord is showing up on a daily basis, and many times I don't bother to say "thank you" for the little things, or at least not acknowledge them enough.

Case in point: yesterday, we met with Ian's hospice team. Instead of one difficult topic, we got a whole parcel of them. This was an exhausting time, both emotionally and physically (outings are becoming increasingly difficult). Afterwards, we were tired, hungry and in desparate need of a change of mood. So, Ian and I made the decision that we were going to Red Lobster for supper. After we ordered, the manager informed us that someone, who wished to remain anonymous, paid for our meal. Very unexpected, and considering that there were four of us, not insubstantial. If, by some chance, you were the anonymous benefactor, please accept our heartfelt thanks.

And blessings like the one described above happen with regularity. We don't expect them, and I pray that we never do. I still pray for the big miracle, the healing that will silence my doubts about God's love and power. But, like mortar that holds together a building made of bricks, what if God's grace instead is dispensed freely, filling in our myriad of cracks and holding us together? Does that make it any less miraculous?


*The second in the trilogy of Best Movies Ever. I'm sorry, it's my blog, there's no debate.

Just One More Afternoon (Tom, Ian, Graces and Mercies)

On Sunday, I had the kind of afternoon that I've had at least a hundred times before. I'm going to miss them terribly.

I wanted to get Ian out for a while, so I decided that he and I would go to Target to find something for him to spend his allowance on, then head to a park for a walk (or, I guess, a roll.)

We packed a backpack full of stuff that we thought it would be good to have with us, just to be safe. As the contents grew, it reminded me of when Ian was much smaller, and we would have a diaper bag packed at all times.

When Ian was a toddler, deb worked 2-3 nights/week at the local mall. Often, the boy & I would go there and wander around. It gave us something to do, and it allowed mother and son to say "goodnight" to each other. He and I had our regular stops at the shopping center, almost on a schedule: We would get a stroller and say "hi" to Deb, then makes our rounds (KayBee Toys, the other toy store, Air Traffic, GameStop, then get a pretzel). He would eat his share of the pretzel and tell Deb about his evening, followed by home and bed.

Later, he and I would branch out for grander outings. Edinborough, parks in summer and Chuck E. Cheese were places I could take him for an afternoon or evening adventure. We were just a couple of guys out having fun.

Anyway, we wandered around Target for a while. The more toys Ian looked at, the more he said "I'll have to save up for that." I had to resist the impulse to buy him whatever he wanted. We both settled for a new lightsaber. (After all, he has only four of them, and only one other blue one. Besides, this one lights up! And it makes sounds!) We also grabbed a new dice game, and a set of 3-D glasses for the Superbowl commercials.

At the park, I bundled the boy up, but forgot my gloves. The air temperature wasn't bad, and being in the sun was great. It's been a long winter, with too many grey skies. But the wind picked up, and we both agreed that we had had enough fresh air. How about going for a drive? That sounded good; we just weren't ready to be home yet. I started off with no particular destination in mind. Just a chance to be side by side, still in the sun.

I took his left hand and held it. One of the issues he's been dealing with is that he doesn't feel much of anything in his left side anymore. He's got strength there, but it doesn't do him much good without the feedback that sensation would give him.

"Can you feel my hand?"

"A little."

"Is it OK if I just hold it?"

"Yeah."

And so we drove for a little while, my hand holding his. It wasn't doing much for Ian, but I'll take what I can get.

Tonight, you get a two-for. (Graces and Mercies, Ian, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I had been hoping that this time would never come, but it's here.

We're now looking at a series of "lasts." Most parents get a set of joyous, but probably mildly sad lasts before the kids move out and leave the nest. Unfortunately, there's nothing triumphant or joyful about our lasts. A couple of nights ago was, more than likely, the last time Ian will sleep in his room, in his own bed. We've seen him walk unaided for the last time, and pretty soon he will go to school for the last time. The tumor symptoms have increased with a vengeance, like an opponent who sees the endgame, and is determined to win.

We're at the point where, while not known for sure, God's decision seems to be clear. We're walking our little boy home, kind of like how we walk him everywhere these days. We're keeping close, aiding with each step, surrounding him with encouragement and praise. This is our calling, and I hate it. I have raged, dreaded and feared this time, but we have no choice but to be faithful with what we're given.

And yet, I couldn't help but to remember Jesus' words in Matthew 27: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me. I'm re-learning lessons of servanthood, and I'm finding it some joy in helping Ian with the simplest of tasks, with the perspective that I'm doing it for Jesus as well. There is a sense of duty as a parent, there is a sense of love out of caring for my son, but I also have a joy out of caring for someone whom God loves more than life itself, enough to die on a cross. As painful as it is, there is part of me that considers what I do for Ian as a privilege.

* * *

I've told some of you that I'm reading the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. When Deb & I went to Maui for a week, we studied about Hawaii for at least a month. You would think that before now I would have bothered to do a study on the place where I will be spending eternity. I'll confess that my primary motive was to be able to truthfully answer any questions that Ian might have, as well as make it easier for me to say "farewell" to him.

The passage I read tonight gave me food for thought:

God has never given up on his original creation. Yet somehow we've managed to overlook an entire biblical vocabulary that makes this point clear. Reconcile. Redeem. Restore. Recover. Return. Renew. Regenerate. Resurrect. Each of these biblical words begins with the re- prefix, suggesting that a return to an origination that was ruined or lost. (Many are translations of the Greek words with an ana- prefix, which has the same meaning as the English re-). For example, redemption means to buy back what was formerly owned. Similarly, reconciliation means the restoration or reestablishment of a prior friendship or unity. Renewal means to make new again, restoring to an original state. Resurrection means becoming physically alive again, after death.

These words emphasize that God always sees us in light of what he intended us to be, and he always seeks to restore us to that design. Likewise, he sees the earth in terms of what he intended it to be, and he seeks to restore it to its original design.

Religion professor Albert Wolters, in Creation Regained, writes "[God] hangs on to his falled original creation and salvages it. He refuses to abandon the work of his hands--in fact, he sacrifices his own Son to save his original project. Humankind, which has botched its original mandate and the whole creation along with it, is given another chance in Christ; we are reinstated as God's managers on earth. The original good creation is to be restored."

I've been very focused lately on what will be different in the next age, and how Ian will be different, that I've forgotten to think about what will be the same. I fully expect that he'll have his same laugh that he did before the tumor set in (that I have trouble remembering right now.) His eyes in his glorified body will be the same shape, and the same color. He'll have his same sense of humor. He will enjoy running like he did, and probably even more. We'll have the same inside jokes. There's a part of me the expects when we see each other for the first time, we'll embrace and use our current greeting ("Courage and Kindness, son." "Courage and Kindness, Dad.")

Somehow, that helps. It's strange just how much comfort I've been getting by getting clues about what will be familiar in Heaven...almost as much as by learning about what will be different.

Looking Over My Shoulder (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

One thing I've noticed as I get older, is that songs I've listened to dozens of times can suddenly reveal their meanings (or new meanings) as I accumulate more experiences. Case in point: I was listening to the album High Noon by Mark Heard. I came to the song "Look Over Your Shoulder", and its meaning became very real to me (at least, a meaning that the Lord had for me).

Here is a recording of the song as done by Randy Stonehill and Kate Miner from the tribute album Strong Hand of Love. While there is nothing wrong with the original, I've always enjoyed this one more for some reason.

Look Over Your Shoulder
by Mark Heard

Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming
Tell me what is the bogey that you're so afraid of
The eyes in the back of our heads can persuade
That just for a moment mercy has swayed
Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming

Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see
What is left of the child who is hiding behind them
Who longs to be laughing in places of light
Who knows that the morning will follow the night
Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see

If you must be afraid, be afraid of yourself
For being afraid of the fear you have felt
You will weather well in a climate of love

It takes more than your passion and more than your pain
For the rock of forgiveness to melt in the rain

Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming
Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see
Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming

This song speaks to the fear that has been lurking in the back of my head, that looks for moments to jump out and overtake me. I love the way that this song expresses comfort and hope, while at the same time giving a sense of understanding.

Lending Hope (Graces and Mercies)

Every day, I get a devotional via email from Neil Anderson. Today's clearly described what people do for us every day through CaringBridge, this site and through their words and actions:

LEND ME YOUR HOPE

Romans 15:13
Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit

Lend me your hope for awhile, I seem to have mislaid mine.

Lost and hopeless feelings accompany me daily, pain and confusion are my companions.

I know not where to turn; looking ahead to future times does not bring forth images of renewed hope.

I see troubled times, pain-filled days, and more tragedy.

Lend me your hope for awhile, I seem to have mislaid mine.

Hold my hand and hug me; listen to all my ramblings, recovery seems so far distant.

The road to healing seems like a long and lonely one.

Lend me your hope for awhile, I seem to have mislaid mine.

Stand by me, offer me your presence, your heart and your love.

Acknowledge my pain, it is so real and ever present.

I am overwhelmed with sad and conflicting thoughts.

Lend me your hope for awhile; a time will come when I will heal, and I will share my renewal, hope, and love with others (adapted from the poem "Lend Me Your Hope," author unknown).

The apostle Paul gives us the biblical basis for our comfort and hope: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ" (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

Thank you to all of you who are sources of hope for us.

Where am I? (Graces and Mercies)

It's been a few weeks since I've posted anything. To be honest, I've been too tired, anxious, busy and at times angry to write anything, at least anything I would like to hang my name on.

(This is where I had a really miserable paragraph that nobody wants to read. Carry on...)

I remembered a couple of days ago that it's been awhile since I listed things for which I'm thankful. I need to make those lists regularly. Otherwise, it's too easy to let my heart grow cold and bitter, grousing about what I don't have.

I'm thankful:
* That, inspite of my emotions, God remains in the middle of this, listening to our prayers and concerns. I prayed a week or so ago that I would see God's goodness in this situation. He shows up in unexpected ways, through people who love Him and us.

* For the fact that, after all he's been through, Ian still has a healthy immune system. A lot of children in his situation would have had pneumonia at this point, and while that is still a very real danger, he doesn't have it right now.

* That, despite all of his changes, he is still Ian deep down. When he talks about getting presents for others, it isn't something he's guilted into. He really wants to get gifts for people he loves, in the hopes of making them happy.

* That we have doctors who truly care about our little boy.

* For a wife who loves me, in spite of myself.

* That I work for a company with people who care and want to help out in our situation.

* That, for a little while tonight, we played Yahtzee as a family, and enjoyed it. It felt like old times, complete with Ian beating us.

* That I have a family who is willing to drive hundreds of miles to be with us, and is willing to sacrifice so that we could have a memorable Thanksgiving weekend.

* That even in the midst of what he's going through, Ian is finding new ways to blossom. He's developed a love for reading that makes me think of myself as a boy. And his writing is giving us mementos to cherish and share. Plus, we got his report card, and the boy is making almost all "A"-level grades.

* That Ian is going to a school that truly wants to help him be the best that he can be, whatever that looks like.

* That one good thing from Ian's increased appetite is that he's much more willing to try new things. He's developed a love for salads now, since Deb and I told him that he can have all of that he wants.

* For flannel sheets. It's getting cold at night now.

* Despite how I've been feeling or where I've let my heart go at times, God still speaks to me in a personal way.

* That God has equipped me with a sense of humor, so that I can make things easier for Deb and Ian from time to time.

* For gingerbread cookies, and the friends who bring them.

He saw what happened to the other ones.

* For a date night. It felt good to take Deb out for a movie, and try to mentally escape for a little while.

I know that a spirit of gratitude is one of the key ways to allow God to work in this situation. If I'm not willing to acknowledge what he's done, why should I expect him to do any more?

An Ian and Dad Saturday (Ian, Tom, Pictures, Graces and Mercies)

Today, Ian and I had pretty much an Ian and Dad day. I had the opportunity to all but spoil him (although, after our Make-a-Wish trip, that bar got significantly higher.)

Ian had his first dose of steroids last night, and the side effects are already kicking in. He was wide awake at 6:00 this morning. Thanks to a dose of melatonin, I had actually gotten some sleep last night, so I got up with him. While he watched a DVD, I checked email and kept refreshing CaringBridge, looking for new guestbook posts.

Later this morning, we hit Mall of America (after a 10:00 a.m. lunch at Subway). We got Deb's birthday present, then I gave him a choice of either playing mini-golf at MoA, or riding rides. Me being the soft touch that I am, "or" became "and", so we wound up riding a couple of rides anyway.

Ian's favorite ride at Mall of America is the Pepsi Ripsaw...

...his other favorite ride is Paul Bunyon's Log Ride.

A couple of shots from Moose Mountain Golf at Mall of America.

Ian doing what Ian does best: creating with LEGOs.

After a rest at home, Ian and I went to a HOPE Kids event, a video games night. It was hosted by a local home media shop, and it featured all the current systems and some really fun games. Ian paused from playing Wii long enough to try his hand at Dance Dance Revolution and Rock Band.






If you haven't read the latest CaringBridge post yet, and in case you are interested, Ian is being baptized tomorrow (11/16) at 1:30, at Berean Baptist Church. Afterwards, there will be a short reception in room 113 at the church.

If you are able to come, we would love to have you there to celebrate with us. This is something that Ian wanted and asked for without being prompted, and we're ecstatic that this could be arranged before we start any possible further treatments. I want to send a big "Thank You" to those friends who stretched to make this possible; you dear friends have no idea how much this means to us.

Thank You For Being a Friend (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

A friend loves at all times,
and a brother is born for adversity
- Proverbs 17:17

We're getting a big blessing this weekend. One of my best friends and his lovely wife are visiting from Columbia, Missouri. Paul and I met (if my dim memory serves me) in preschool, and we have been friends ever since. Through grade school, junior high and high school, we saw each other daily, and at least once or twice a week through college. I moved to Minneapolis in 1993; Paul and I have made occasional attempts to catch up with one another since then, but this is a rare opportunity to really see what the past 15 years have done to each other.

That, and play some of the video games that we used to play in college, like Blades of Steel and Super Dodge-Ball...

On the other hand... (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

I asked Deb to look at that last post, and she thought it was a little big fatalistic...OK, maybe a lot fatalistic. She pointed out that, not only are do we still have a live little boy, he's actually doing very well. There are no tumor symptoms, we're working on the existing conditions successfully, and he's doing very well in school.

So, it's obvious that something is causing me to paint everything black from time to time. It's sometimes difficult to see spiritual warfare for what it is when the enemy is actively engaging me, but that's 90% of the battle, IMHO. So, in order to more effectively combat this, I've started reading the followup to Victory Over the Darkness. It's The Bondage Breaker (once again, by Neil Anderson). I've just started it, but from what I've read so far, it seems like one of the best materials I've seen that deals with personal spiritual warfare. The premise is simple: Satan's weapon is the lie. Our counter-weapon is God's truth.

Stay tuned for more postings as I get more into this book.

A Slow, One-Way Trip (Graces and Mercies, Pictures)

Deb and I were looking for a blank video tape last night, and happened to find one with some home movie footage from 2005. We watched Ian, then 3 1/2, looking for Easter eggs and playing in the rain. It has occurred to me before, but was driven home last night, that if I knew then what I know now, I would be heartbroken.

Our temporal-ness is a mercy. I was suddenly glad that I had almost seven years of getting to be with my son before we found out that he had a DIPG. If we lived our lives with full knowledge of what was to come...every blessing, every heartbreak...then I don't think we would be able to truly live in the "now."

Past Due for a Post (Tom, Graces and Mercies)

Wow...has it been that long since I've written anything?

I keep thinking that I need to write something here, and I get an occasional flash of inspiration, but it's usually gone when something shiny appears. I do tend to get distracted fairly quickly.

If anyone is wondering, here's what's been going on lately:

Ian is doing great, for the most part. He started first grade, and except for the things that most first graders wrestle against (except perhaps for an unbelievable fear of fruit), he's doing great. Seriously--the kid can't stand to be around fruit. Anyway, his physical education teacher is watching him very closely, and has given us good reports. We still see some weakness on one side, but it's nothing like what he used to exhibit. That, and he seems to be having some trouble swallowing his own saliva from time to time. That scares the literal pee out of me, since it could be a big symptom. He has no problems drinking from a cup-he used to gag and choke occasionally, when the tumor was in full force-but not anymore, which is comforting. From what I remember, and IANAPNO(1), this is a symptom of radiation scatter, not of the tumor.  For some reason, I can handle that better.

I finished reading Disappointment With God by Phillip Yancy.  I want to say that I enjoyed the book, and I did, but it seems like that shouldn't be the kind of book one would enjoy.  It deals with three questions:

• Is God unfair?
• Is God silent?
• Is God hidden?

By the way, the answers can be surprising.

The subject matter in the book was something that I had to read and meditate on, better now than later.  At the moment, Ian's doing well, and there is definite hope.  But, at some point, the bottom is going to drop out again.  Either with Ian, with the hospital bills, or some other piece of life is going to come crashing into our home.  I want to have my worldview set in stone, so that my heart is guarded when the enemy comes against us.

This book helped in that regard.  In the first half, Yancy cruises through the whole of scripture, except for the book of Job, to obtain God's point of view for those questions.  In the second half, he focuses on the book of Job.  I've put off reading Job through this season of life.  Job has almost struck me as almost removed from real life.  It's been difficult for me to relate to the sheer amount of suffering that Job endured, and the monologues seem almost...Shakespearean.  Yet, after reading Yancey's book, and with a little bit more maturity, Job is coming more alive to me.  One part that stood out was in chapter 9, when Job discusses wanting to confront God about his suffering:

He is not a man like me that I may answer Him,
that we might confront each other in court.
If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,
someone to remove God's rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more.
Then I would speak up without fear of Him,
but as it now stands with me, I cannot.

Job seems to clearly understand where he stands with God (i.e, he can't stand against God).  Job is aware of his own sin and wickedness, and longs for an intermediary.  I discussed this in an earlier post, about how aware I was one Sunday about Christ's final atonement, and how that allowed me to approach God at any time.  When I'm finally in Heaven, I look forward to talking with the saints from the Old Testament, to get an idea of how incredible a thing it is to be able to approach God the Father freely, without fear.  (Although, since we will actually see God at that time, I'll probably have my own idea).

Lastly, I want to publicly thank all of the men from my small group who showed up for my surprise birthday party.  For years, when I would see a surprise party in a movie or TV show, I've always wanted one.  Thanks for taking the time to wish me well and celebrate.

Ok, I'm done rambling.  I promise a bit more coherency in the next post.

(1) I Am Not A Pediatric Neuro-Oncologist

It's a Good Thing I'm Not God (Graces and Mercies)

Ian's asleep on the couch right now, and I wish that I could join him.  I'm exhausted after this day.  It's been the culmination of months of waiting, hoping, praying and, unfortunately, worrying.

For anyone who isn't reading our Caring Bridge site (see link above), today was the first MRI we had since we got the diagnosis.  After all 30 days of the radiation treatment, hundreds of thousands of prayers, tears and flint-faced resolutions, we got to see where we stand.  Everyone I know, myself included, has been praying that when we see the MRI, there would be no tumor.  It seems like a logical thing to want...right?  No tumor means that the problem has been solved, and we can get on with our life, albeit a little more appreciative.

During the MRI process, Deb and I prayed.  A few times, I looked over my shoulder at the monitor that showed the current reading.  Most of the time, I couldn't see much (I was not allowed to wear my glasses in the chamber); one time, my heart sank when I could see the top-down view of my son's head, and a bright spot was visible right where I thought the tumor was supposed to be.  

Afterwards, we passed the time playing Yahtzee in the waiting room (BTW, don't play Yahtzee with that kid; dice love him.)  We tried to finish the game in the examination room, but were interrupted byhis doctor.  After a little bit of small talk about my MP3 player/voice recorder, he settled down to show us the results.  I'm afraid that if Deb and I had been holding hands for any longer than we did, there would have been broken fingers on both sides.

Two-thirds reduction; the tumor is still there, but it's only one-third as big as it was at the end of May.

The tumor is still there.

That sentence resounded in my head like the echo of a gun shot.

A gun shot that sounded like...PIIIIIINNNNGGGGG...

The good doctor had tried to prepare us for this result.  A month ago, he told us that he expected to see something today, and he was correct.  All of the fasting and prayers that people have been doing...this was our shot.  After this, there isn't any other treatment that he recommends.

But, Ian's doctor explained that this is a good result.  It's his experience that when tumors disappear quickly, they regrow very quickly (with a vengence, if you will).  He further explained that he was very happy with the outcome.  He also told us about another little boy in his care who also has DIPG, and has lived five years with a tumor in his brain stem, with no effects.  (pong, pong and pong)

So, my will was not done.  I was wishing, hoping and praying that the MRI would be clear.  It's a good thing my will was not done.  And we're back to enjoying each day with our son, thanking God for every one as they happen.  That's not a bad place to be.

Gratitude, pt. 2 (Graces and Mercies)

The Lord has been good to us.  

One particular blessing happened over the weekend.  On Saturday, I decided to tackle the fact that my truck was leaking antifreeze, and for some reason the problem wasn't going away by itself.  I was hoping that the problem was going to be easy (cracked hose) and cheap instead of difficult and expensive (cracked radiator).  After filling up the cooling system and letting the truck run, I found the source of the leak.  The black thingy sticking out of the big metal part was gushing antifreeze.*  I called my friend Steve Coffield about it, and he graciously came over and was able to stop the leak.  Then, he fixed something else that was probably going to either eventually strand me in the middle of 494, cost us lots of money, or (most likely) both.  Then, he noticed that one of my tires was about to give up its rubbery ghost.  After a quick trip to Wal-Mart for a pair of replacements, Steve graciously balanced and mounted them.

Steve, thank you for giving of your time and talents.  You saved us quite a bit of money, but more importantly, you kept me safe on the road.  You have a gentle, servant's spirit that is a reflection of Christ.  Also, you are being a great steward of the gifts that God has given you.  Thank you very much for your help.

*Yes, that's about as technical as I get when dealing with engines.

*     *     *

Thank you, Lord, for those who continue to come around and support us.

We have had many offers recently from people who are willing to take Ian for a while to let us find a few of our marbles.  Thank you to everyone who has come forward.  It gives Deb and I a few moments alone together, and it gives Ian something to look forward to.  A big "thank you" goes out to Deb's mother, who graciously offered to take him for a couple of days.  This is a great break, allowing Deb and I to reconnect, spend time with God and have a little fun.

*     *     *

Lord, thank you for those who continue to pray for us.  Also, thank you Lord for those who have walked this road before, and impart their experience and wisdom.

Finally, thank you to everyone who has been praying after I made this post.  Things are much better than they were.  I've been able to work out more often than I was (i.e., working out period), which definitely helps how I feel and how I see myself.  Also, God has been using The One Year Book of Hope by Nancy Guthrie to minister to me.  It may be a bit early to go too far into this book, as it deals with loss, and Ian is still with us.  However, it's helping now, and I'm learning to live more in "the now."  I'm also spending time reading Disappointment with God by Phillip Yancey.  From what I've read so far, I think that this book is going to lead me through some emotional honesty that I've been scared to explore.

Gratitude (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

Act I:

(Imagine, if you will, a conversation between myself and God...)

Me: "Lord, please heal my son, as soon as possible."

God: I will provide caring doctors through whom I will work, and trust in Me.

Me: "Lord, please heal my son, as soon as possible."

God: I will provide nurses who are kind, gentle, caring and encouraging.

Me: "Lord, I ask you to heal Ian"

God: I will surround you with family and friends who will demonstrate My love for you in ways that you would never have imagined.

Me: "Lord, I ask that you remove Ian's tumor, quickly"

God: I will provide for you financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I will surround you when you call to Me, and comfort you.

Me: "God, please restore my son's health."

God: I will be glorified through this situation, and use you in ways that you could not have imagined.

Me: "Dear Lord, please make my son be healthy, and have a long life."

God: I will light each of your steps through My word and through My spirit.

Me: "Jehovah, please do not take my son."

God: I will astound the medical professionals by keeping him healthy while they use the gifts I have given them, to treat the tumor the best way they know how. Through Ian, they will know how to better treat other sick children.

Me: "I'm not sure that you are listening to me, God..."

(Fade to black)

* * *

Does anyone else see a pattern there? This is pretty much how my prayer life has been over the past eight weeks. I have been so focused on my goal, on my end result, that I tend to lose sight over what God is doing now. I've been so busy applying Luke 18:1-5 (the parable of the persistent widow), that I've ignored Isaiah 66:15, Psalm 119:73-80, and hosts of other promises God has made to me.

If my desire had been granted, and Ian had been healed immediately upon the diagnosis (or never had gotten his DIPG), we would not have had the experience of seeing the church rise up and rally around a little boy. We would not have heard from friends and relatives all over the country. We would not have gotten to meet the Krupskis, a lovely family who moved here from Vermont. Ian would not have gotten to spend weeks enjoying time with his grandmother. There have been hundreds of blessings, some that we see and some that have remained hidden. Deb and I would not have gotten clued into how bad Ian's ankles were getting, and he would have experienced more pain in his legs and feet.

Instead of focusing on what God has not done, I need to trust His will and focus on what He has given us.

We give thanks to you, O God,
we give thanks, for your Name is near;
men tell of your wonderful deeds.

- Psalm 75:1


* * *

Act II:

(Imagine, if you will, a different interaction)

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me (Ignoring Satan): "Thank you, God for providing caring doctors who trust in You, and through whom You are working."

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me: "Lord, thank you for providing nurses who are kind, gentle, caring and encouraging.

Satan: You will be isolated and alone.

Me: "Thank you, Lord, for surrounding us with family and friends who are demonstrating Your love for us in ways that we would never have imagined."

Satan: God is going to work slowly, if at all. This will last years, and will ruin you in every way.

Me: "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I know from Your word that you will surround me when I call Your name, and will comfort me."

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me: "God, be glorified through this situation, and use us in ways that we could never have imagined."

Satan: Your son has no future.

Me: "Lord, thank You for leading us this far. Guide us through Your spirit, and give us wisdom to listen to You."

Satan: God is going to take your son.

Me: "Lord, I thank you that Ian has been healthy through his treatments. His blood counts have remained high, his symptoms have been minimal and his attitude has been wonderful. I thank you for your mercy during this time. Above all, I pray that Your will would be done throughout this trial."

(Fade to white)

* * *

I wish that it were that easy, at least for me. The first step is to sit down and start listing the ways He has blessed us. That may be the next post...

As a quick aside, I'm listening to a recording of the doctor's appointment from earlier this week. Ian's oncologist said his exam is "totally rock stable." Pong!

God's Mercy On Us All (Graces and Mercies)

If someone were to challenge me to prove that God is gracious and merciful, I would point to this.

No matter what the U.S. Senate may be guilty of, it did not deserve him.

Ping Pong Over the Abyss (Graces and Mercies)

The first person who can identify where I got the title of this post gets bonus points. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Denni Caid...

Just about any Christian man loves David. There is something about his life that appeals to men who love the Lord. It might be that the account of David and Goliath is one of the first times that a young realizes that there are action heroes in Bible. Looking at David:

Courage? Check
Great warrior? Check
Success? Check
Gifted musically? Check.
Revered by a nation? Check
Knew God intimately? Check

What's not to like? It's as if God plotted David's life in a way that would resonate powerfully with men. I've been getting more in tune with David, but not the part that most men want to think about.

The past 2-3 weeks, it feels like my spirit has been a ping-pong ball. I keep volleying between hopefulness and hopelessness:

*serve* Ian's getting better


*ping* He's still having problems swallowing


*pong* The mood swings have stopped


*ping* His hair is falling out


*pong* Ian's laugh is back to normal


*ping* A close friend inadvertently says something callous


*pong* More and more friends encourage us


*ping* We hear about other children who have lost this same battle


*pong* Ian's oncologist gives us a glowing report, saying that we should plan on him attending first grade with the rest of his class


*ping* When he lays down for the night, before I have finished tucking him in, there is blood on his pillow from the sores on his ears



For every *pong* of good news, the enemy uses a *ping* of bad news as a weapon against our hearts. I think that's why Psalm 42 has been resonating with me. David sees the back-and-forth pattern that his spirit is in, and every so often, talks truth to himself:

⁵Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and ⁶my God

This is the kind of man that I'm trying to be, sometimes successfully. It's as if David is saying to himself, Snap out of it! My God is still on His throne, and I'm going to praise him, no matter what my circumstances are. The kicker is that he has to do this again, and again. After he's shaken himself, he does praise the Lord, in verse eight:

by day the Lord directs his love,
at night his song is with me-
a prayer to the God of my life

By verse nine, he's lamenting his condition again. However, in verse 11, he's realized where he's at, and is repeating the same instructions to himself. If you follow through chapter 43, David does the same thing, verbatim!

Someone who hasn't been there might ask, Doesn't this guy learn? But that's what I'm going through as well. Last night was one of those evenings when I could not find the words to express the anguish my soul was feeling. All I could do was read verses 5 and 11 repeatedly, and tell myself That's where I need to be.

As the waves of despair start coming in, instead of playing a defensive game by reminding myself of the good things that are happening to Ian, I need to play "close to the net" and immediately remind myself that My God is still on His throne, and I am going to praise Him, in good times and bad. Does that mean that I won't ever grieve? Heavens, no. It just means that I don't have to stay grieving.

By the way, I talked with Deb a few minutes ago. She met with the head of the radiation therapy team, who had nothing but glowing words to say about Ian and his progress. *pong*

The Missing Song (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

In a previous post, I mentioned three songs that have been inspirational to me during this season. I was able to find two of them at Last.fm, so that you could listen to them for free. The third song, "Blessed Be the Name (From Job)" by Brent Bourgeois, does not seem to be available for listening or purchasing online. I contacted Mr. Bourgeois, and he graciously gave me permission to host an MP3 copy of the entire song, in case anyone wished to hear it. You can hear it by clicking here.

If you like it, and wish to hear more of Mr. Bourgeois' music, please purchase a copy of his album Come Join the Living World. It may take a little searching, but it's definitely worth it.

(And many thanks to Mr. Bourgeois for his kind reply to my email.)

Dry, Dry, Dry (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I've had one or two people mention that there hasn't been a post in a week, and wondered how I was doing. I attempted a post, but I all but tossed my laptop in the garbage when I started reading it. I've just been feeling...dry. As a hobbit once said, "I feel like too little butter scraped across too much toast." (Or something like that. I can't find my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring at the moment.)

I haven't been writing because there isn't anything to give. Between work, Ian, Deb, home and friends, there just hasn't been anything left. My primary challenge is to abide in Christ right now. It sounds simple: read my Bible and pray. That's my primary objective. And yet, that feels like my biggest challenge. I keep throwing up "ifs": if only Ian would sleep, and let me have my time before I go to work. If only I could take my lunch hour and get away from the building. If only I could get some time in the evening.

Recently, I heard the term "put your own oxygen mask on first." Just like the emergency instructions before an airplane takes off. When there's a drop in cabin pressure, the parents' first impulse is to take care of small children first, then themselves. The flight attendants remind the passengers that in order to care for and protect their children, the parents must care for their own needs first. The kids are not taken care of when mom or dad have passed out.

Similarly, I'm not doing Deb or Ian any favors when I'm not taking care of myself. If anyone out there is praying for me, I feel like my needs are pretty basic:

Exercise: I had a my cholesterol checked a few years ago, as well as last September. Both tests had similar results: LDL cholesterol was low (yay!), HDL cholesterol was low (@#$%). My doctor reminded me that HDL cholesterol is raised by only one method: regular, sweat-breaking exercise. I used to work out before I got ready to leave for work, but Ian's been waking up at 5:30 lately, and I've wanted to get up and be with him.

Scripture: I firmly believe that the Word of God is alive, having the power through the Holy Spirit to heal and refresh. Deb and I have both experienced this recently, when it spoke directly to us individually, addressing our currently situation. In the past year, I've discovered the joy of reading my Bible. Now, I need to find my refreshment in it.

Prayer: Over the Memorial Day weekend, when I had a few days off, I had some incredible prayer times. Granted, at the time, the grief was fresh and new, and that drove me to my knees. I can't remember the last time I felt closest to God. It seems like lately, I have to share my prayer time with 10,000 of my closest friends while commuting.

Correction. Earlier this week, I was driving and decided to play three songs that have best described my situation, at least in my mind. First, it was one that I posted about earlier: I Will Lift My Eyes, by Bebo Norman. The utter desperation and dependency on Jesus still speaks to me. It starts off "Oh God, My God, Your beloved needs You now." Framing the situation that way, that I am God's beloved, whom He will not abandon, speaks directly to my fears.

The second song is an older one. It's "Blessed Be the Name of the Lord (From Job" by Brent Bourgeios. I believe that the phrase "The Lord gave, The Lord has taken away / blessed be the name of The Lord" is perhaps one of the purest expressions of worship that man has ever conceived. Job understood that nothing he was given, not even his children, were his, but that everything ultimately belongs to God. When everything he had was ripped away, his first reaction was to bless the name of God. Job refused to allow his status, his riches, his prosperity, or anything of this earth define who he was, or who God is.

The third song is Sunday by Tree63. The song describes a how God's promises are true and reliable, even (especially?) when all evidence points to defeat. I firmly believe that God loves dramatic endings.

At any rate, if you are praying those are my requests: time for exercise, scripture reading, and prayer. With regard to time in God's word, another Lord of the Rings quote comes to mind. I thought of it this morning when our pastor was delivering a message about the importance of God's word, and in one comparison, he displayed a sword (in reference to Hebrews 4:12). I couldn't help but to lean over to one of my best friends and quote Gandalf from The Two Towers, when he was addressing King Theoden: "Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped a sword-hilt."

My Other Fathers Day Gifts / Hope (Tom, Ian, Geeky Stuff, Graces and Mercies)

I haven't been writing as much as I was a couple of weeks ago. The initial shock as passed, and now we're working on the routine (or, as I have told Deb, "the new normal.") I am still working full time, so I haven't had (or, more accurately, taken) the time for introspection and mentally chewing through what "the new normal" is. So, instead of my usually articulate and insightful posting (sprinkled with wry humor), today you get the blog equivalent of "shepherd's pie."

The present that Ian bought for me was something that he and I enjoy together: The Looney Tunes Golden Collection, Vol. 4. Never let it be said that I didn't take the time to give my son a classical education.

From Deb, I got Wii Fit. For a little over a year, I had been using a fitness video game called Yourself!Fitness. Wii Fit has advantages, such as a balance/scale unit that gives more feedback, and a male instructor. However, I'm still evaluating it. One disadvantage to Wii Fit is that it makes me think much more about my exercise routine than the program I have been using. It was nice to be able to turn my brain off and just follow the on-screen instructor, from warm-up, through the routine, then finally through cool-down. Wii Fit will most likely be more of a fun complement, but not necessarily a replacement. Also, as soon as Ian is more confident with his balance, hopefully he will want to try it out.

Finally, I came across this article in the Wired RSS feed. At this point, I can't waste my time and energy running down every treatment option that is available. We have the best care possible through the University of Minnesota, and I believe that we couldn't be in better hands. However, something like this is an answer to my (daily) prayer of "grace and mercy for today, hope for tomorrow."

Hope Hurts (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

(This post was started on Thursday, June 5, 2008...)

True, genuine hope for the future has been a little hard to come by for me lately. I can see hope for the near term--Ian has been improving, and we should see much more of our boy by Father's Day. But hope for the long term...a year from now, two years from now...I don't have much. I've been trying to figure out why.

The best I can figure out is that if I dare to have hope, then I open myself up to disappointment. And since we're talking about the life of my only son, the disappointment hurts deeply. As much as I want to imagine Ian growing up and becoming a man, it's difficult for me to have the courage let my mind wander there now. It's safer to...not.


(...then finished on Saturday, June 7, 2008)

Two things happened that broke the thought pattern I wrote about above, and brought honest hope:

1.) Later, on Thursday evening, Deb told me that Ian's oncology team was going to meet with another little boy who also had a DIPG. He was treated with the same experimental therapy that Ian is undergoing, only during the stage one trials. He was coming in for a routine MRI, just to verify that his tumor had not returned since his treatment ended three years ago.

2.) The biggest difference came just before I went to sleep on Thursday night. I'm in the process of reading Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson. In chapter 8, Neil discusses the battle for my mind, and describes some of the enemy's strategies to affect my thought life.

One aspect he brought up is that the enemy speaks directly to our minds, in subtle and devious ways. Instead of saying "There is no hope," he says "I don't believe there is hope." See the difference? He substitutes his thoughts for ours, making us think that his suggestions are our own thoughts, just by changing the sentence from the third person to the first person.

The enemy's weapons are lies and deceit. By leading my thoughts along the lines of hopelessness and depression, I was living in defeat. Through the teaching of Mr. Anderson, I'm learning the deeper meaning of 2 Corinthians 10:5 (We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.)

That concept, of taking every thought captive, always seemed insurmountable to me. Once I learned that not everything that goes on in my head is my thought, but that the enemy will place suggestions there for his purposes, it became a matter of learning to hold my thoughts up in light of scripture, and from there either rejecting them as a temptation, or acting upon them. The more quickly I reject thoughts that go against God's word, the better off I am. And the only way that I can quickly discern what's going on in my head is by consistently spending time in scripture: reading, studying and meditating on God's word. Only then am I truly equipped to fight the accuser on the true field of battle: my heart and my mind.

Tension (Graces and Mercies)

If you're reading the Caring Bridget site (link above), then you know that he had a brief moment of hope, then found out that our situation had not changed. Deb and I were praying that Ian would be healed now and that he wouldn't have to go through the radiation treatments, but at this point it does seem to be God's will that he does.

We keep praying the God's will would be done, because we believe that it is good and perfect. We may not understand why he is doing this, but we trust Him. The truth is that we know part of God's will, but we're waiting on the other part. He's given us the setup, or the question. Now we're waiting on the follow through, the answer. It's the time in between that's a pressure cooker. There will be and answer, obviously; we are just waiting for it to come in God's timing, not ours.

It's our desire to race ahead, to escape the tension and pressure as quickly as possible. But during these times of waiting, of not knowing what God will do, is when His work in us is performed best. During these times, we are more apt to humble ourselves and seek Him. We are more likely to allow ourselves to be examined for sin and are more open to God's correction. Only recently has this been encapsulated to me in a single saying: God's will is best seen in hindsight. When we're in the furnace, enduring hardship, we care about God's will only so we can get out. When we look back on those times, we can more easily see what God did in our hearts and our lives. Rather than try to escape the tension, we need to pray that the Lord would receive glory, and that God's will would be completed in us.

The obvious Biblical parallel is from John 11:1-44, when Jesus heals Lazarus. Mary and Martha had no problem believing that Jesus could heal Lazarus. Jesus had done that many times before, so that was less faith for that to occur. The Father had something bigger planned that none of them (save Jesus) had thought of, even though Jesus says in verse four "This sickness will not end in death." Sometimes I feel like Thomas (how appropriate) from verse 16 in this situation: "Let us also go, that we may die with him." Fatalistic, yet committed. I'm not abandoning you, Lord, but I don't see how this can end in anything but tears. He wanted to escape the tension as well, but instead of seeing Lazarus healed, he wanted to give into what he saw as the inevitable.

Actually, when the I first heard that there was no change to Ian's condition, I thought of the the passage in 2 Kings 4:8-36. Here, a woman who had been kind to the prophet Elisha was without a child. Because of her generosity to Elisha, the Lord granted her a boy. The boy grew, and one day he died suddenly. She called for Elisha to come to her. There was no question in her the God could heal the boy. Elisha also knew that God could heal the boy. When she reached him, she started beseeching Elisha to intervene on her behalf. Elisha's servant tried to push her away, but Elisha said, "Leave her alone! She is in bitter distress, but the LORD has hidden it from me and has not told me why." Elisha was in the pressure cooker as well, since he had no clue what God was up to in her situation.

When Elisha gets to the woman's house, the first thing he does is pray alone, with boy's body. That seems like the obvious first step. When that work, he tried what his predecessor, Elijah, did in a similar situation. He laid on the boy to transfer warmth, and to get closer to the situation. He didn't pray from far away, he drew as close to the boy as he could. And the boy's body grew warm, but there was still no life.

But it didn't work. So, he did what I would do; he paced. That shows a definite concern for both the woman and boy. Elisha was there with them, not a disinterested bystander. Also, he knew that the name of the Lord was involved. Elisha knew how precious that is, and that he was responsible to not drag it through the mud. God, I did what I believe you wanted me to do, and it didn't work. Now what? So, he tried laying on he boy again. After the second time, life was restored to the Shunammite woman's son. Why didn't God revive the boy immediately? Why didn't God restore him the first time Elisha laid on him? I don't know. God left them in the tension longer than our limited minds think that He should have, especially when I realize that God gave Elisha a double portion of Elijah's power. If anything, we would expect that the boy would have been raised from the dead more quickly.

There could have been a spiritual battle going on, a fight more intense that anything we can imagine. The enemy wants to besmirch the name of the Lord, and could easily have done so by taking the child from the woman after God had granted him to her. The message would be that God is cruel, not good, or that God is weak, not powerful. The earlier text says that she was well-to-do, so she would have had some influence in her community. The enemy saw an opportunity to defame the Almighty, and probably fought tooth and nail for that chance. In the end, God's true power and character was shown, and I'm sure that the woman's city heard about how kind and mighty Elisha's God was, and faith grew.

So, Deb and I remain in the tension. I understand that there is more going on here than the life of my son. In my humanness, I want the tension to go away. The future looks bleak, with little room for hope, at least from the doctors. And yet, if I am given the opportunity to escape, and take it, I would be interrupting what God has planned for His glory and my greater good. If a piece of pottery was able to leave the kiln, it would never become what the potter has planned for it. Please join us in prayer, that God would sustain us in the tension, that His perfect will would be done and that His name would be glorified.

Unfolding, pt 2 (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

A few more observations on the passage in Genesis 22:

verse 6 - Isaac had to carry the wood to (what could have been) his own sacrifice. There are so many obvious parallels between this passage and the crucifixion of Christ, such as Christ had to carry his own "wood" (the cross). My takeaway from this is that God doesn't ask us anything that He hasn't faced or was willing to do(through His incarnation as Christ). Times recently when I've told God that it isn't fair for my son to have to suffer, I get the response, "I understand." And I know that He does.

verses 7-8 - Isaac obviously knew the sacrifice ritual. It says that Abraham bound him and placed him on the altar, so Isaac knew what was coming. He was surely confused and scared, because he know what happens to things that are put on altars. Similarly, Jesus knew what was coming when He faced the cross. We've been fortunate that Ian hasn't known what's facing him, so his fear has been less, but that's quickly changing the more times he goes to the hospital.

verses 12, 15 - "...from me your son, your only son." I noticed that God didn't include "Isaac, whom you love" in these verses. Abraham obviously still loved Isaac, but he also proved that he loves God more than Isaac. Because of that kind of devotion, God gave Isaac back to Abraham, and fulfilled His promise to Abraham to make him the father of a great nation.

Nothing groundbreaking, like I said. Just my observations.

Not Unknown, Just Unfolding (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

One of the easiest of the Hebrew names for God for me to remember is "Jehovah Jireh," which translates into "The Lord Will Provide." One of our closest friends pointed us to the passage in Genesis 22:1-19, where this name is used. I was meditating on this passage on Monday morning, and recorded the following thoughts. Nothing groundbreaking, but then again, this is not the place to come for groundbreaking. But I hope that you can see the parallels to our own situation.

God called Abraham to do this. He doesn't initiate plans without knowing the outcome, the details or the reason. he doesn't always reveal these right away (I would venture that he rarely reveals these), so that we may learn to trust him.

Verse 2 - "...Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love..." God knows Ian by name. Not only does God love Ian infinitely more than Deb or I ever could, He also knows how much we love Ian. God doesn't consider this insignificant, since we are doing our best to model God's love for His son, and God's love for us. If anyone's heart is breaking in this situation, it is our Lord's.

Verse 3 - It must have been killing Abraham as he made those preparations. Satan was pummeling him with doubt and fear. Abraham probably cut a little bit more wood than he needed, or walked a little more slowly, just to see if God would change His mind. Every step of the process--saddling the donkey, getting the servants, getting Isaac, all the way to Moriah. In each stage, he hoped God would stop him and call it off. Thousands of times, Abraham must have thought something like, "See God? I'm trusting you. Lesson learned. Now let me take my son and go home." I do that now, and I'm sure that I will keep doing it, wanting in my humanness for the nightmare to be over, instead of wanting God's designs to be fulfilled.

Access, Ctd. (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

While reflecting more on yesterday's posting about our access to God through Christ, the song "I Will Lift My Eyes" by Bebo Norman got stuck in my head and won't leave. I consider it my personal anthem through this season.

Access (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

On Sunday our pastor at church continued his series on the Beatitudes.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God
- Matthew 5:9

The concept of being a peacemaker was modeled by God. Because of man's rebellion, we were literally at war with God. The only way to atone for our sins was to present sacrifices of animals and grain at the temple where God resided. There were precise offerings to be made depending on offenses, as well as the economic status of the offender. God modeled the above verse, by making peace with us though the death and resurrection of Jesus.

I was reflecting on what it must have been like for Hebrews in the Old Testament. When a personal crisis like ours would occur, you would go to the temple and make an offering as prescribed by the Mosaic law. I can't imagine the terror of first being scared about my situation, and then hoping that your sacrifice was enough to make me acceptable to God. I'm sure that I would bring along a little bit more, just in case. You would never know where you stood in the eyes of God.

I got a small glimpse at how blessed I am to not have to worry about whether or not I am acceptable to God. Through the final sacrifice of God's Son, all doubt is taken away. Not only am I at peace with God, I can be confident that He considers me his son (little "s"), because through Christ I am adopted into his family:

He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will
- Ephesians 1:5

I don't have to seek an audience or wait for an appointment. Because of Jesus, I know that I am His child, able to talk privately, intimately, openly and honestly. That last one is getting more and more important. Because of this relationship, I tell God that this situation is rotten, that I don't think it's fair. I can tell him, in my humanness, what I think of this world that's under His authority where children get these kinds of diseases. I don't have to worry that I'm going to get kicked out of his graces because He knows my need to work through this, and will patiently, lovingly accept me back into His presence.

Even more importantly, as His beloved, He hears me. Even before I started crying out to him to take care of this situation and to heal my son, God had started the process to support and care for me and my family. Through friends and family (and that line is becoming more and more blurry), we are being lifted up hour by hour. The messages of hope and encouragement keep pouring in through the CaringBridge site, through emails, calls and visits. He hears me and knows exactly what I need, what Deb needs and what Ian needs, and provides them in ways that surprise me.

Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him,
for he shields him all day long,
and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders.
- Deuteronomy 32:12

The image I have in that is of a child getting a piggyback ride, or riding in one of those backpacks, and feeling safe enough to fall asleep.

Today, Tomorrow (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

As one might expect, my prayer life has been improving lately. The past couple of days, I've been praying through passages in Isaiah, verse by verse. God is talking to Israel while they are captive, encouraging them to hope when all seems lost.

But now listen, O Jacob, my servant,
Israel, whom I have chosen.

This is what the Lord says --

he who made you,

who formed you in the womb
and who will help you:

Do not be afraid, O Jacob, my servant,

Jeshurun, whom I have chosen.

- Isaiah 44:1-2


I don't know why, but God has chosen us to go through this season. He is a God of reason, a God of purpose and intricacy. He's like the best jazz musician you can imagine (one teacher mentioned Thelonious Monk), taking what seems like chaos, and weaving it into a harmonious pattern that makes sense only in hindsight.

I also found myself this morning asking God to provide grace and mercy for today, and hope for tomorrow. The Lord's mercies are new every morning. If I stop and look at matters through an eternal perspective, even on what could be one of the worst days of our lives, the Lord's mercies and grace were present. We live in a country where an MRI was a short drive away. We have health insurance. We have doctors who caught this when they did, and were able to arrange for the test and appoints on very quick order. One of my best friends, who lives in North Carolina, happened to be in Minneapolis on a business trip. The outpouring of love and support from friends was immediate. I'm sure that there are more, some we won't know until later.

Much of the pain and terror I've been feeling has been from mourning the future, my future. God is leading me to let go of my vision of the future, and put my hope in His future for our family. In my humanness, I want to know God's plan for my family, but that's not trusting. As long as I cling to my plan, I lock God out of working in my heart to shape me into what He wants me to be to lead my family and for His purposes. When I start seeing his daily grace and mercy with gratitude, and leaving the outcome to God, this season becomes easier to bear.