Good Friday

We began Lent by lighting four candles on our cross.

In the same way we add Light during Advent, we remove a light each week during Lent.

Throughout Lent we have anticipated Good Friday.

When I came home from the hospital tonight, it was time to blow out the final candle of our Lenten cross.

We remember the extinguishing of the Light of Christ as we blow out the final candle on Good Friday.

For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body.

II Cor 4: 6-11

Never before have I come to a Good Friday so aware of my need to be delivered from death.

Never have I so yearned to see the life of Jesus revealed in a mortal body.

Do you read that passage from II Corinthians the way that I do? We carry the death of Christ in our bodies so that his life may be revealed.

Yes. Death is at work.

Yes. Life is at work.

In Christ, life always comes from death. I have no earthly reason to expect to see the glory of God in John's body.

Jesus trampled down death by death.

I cannot know how God will manifest his glory through John, I only know that both life and death are at work and that Easter is coming.

In the eyes of the Oncologist, there is no hope for life. John is not responding to the treatment they are giving. The fluid in the lungs is not decreasing. There is pneumonia and, as the doc said, "funky ribs" from bone disease. John is not able to communicate most of the time. It is heartbreaking to see a quick-witted man unable to find a single word to express a simple need. If there is not a miraculous change in John's breathing, mobility and coherence, the treatment he is receiving will not continue past Monday. We will bring John home and begin hospice care.

Take heart, we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. And as my friend Margaret prayed today, "We are not ready to give John over to death. While there is breath we will pray for healing."

I hope you will not find it inappropriate if I share a small bright spot in my day. A smile slipped across my face as the thought occurred to me, "Its just like John to have a brush with death on Good Friday. Only John would wait until it was liturgically correct to walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death."

Join me in praying for a miraculous Easter resurrection!

In the Hospital

I took John to the hospital for the usual IV fluids this morning. The first nurse that saw him recognized immediately that something was not right. Within minutes we were surrounded by five nurses all working to find out what was wrong. Why had John gone down hill so quickly? What was causing the confusion? I stood there with uncontrollable tears running down my face as they asked me questions. Did I want him to go into the hospital? Did I want to move to home hospice care? My head was spinning.

After checking the level of oxygen in his blood and listening to the congestion in his lungs, a chest x-ray was ordered and he was admitted to the hospital. The x-ray showed some fluid in one of his lungs. The combination of a low oxygen and high calcium seem to be the reason for the sudden crash in cognition. Dr. Hantel thought John improved throughout the day, although he is still unable to speak coherently. "John is unpredictable," Dr. Hantel said. "He may yet pull out of this." Dr. Hantel expects to have a better idea in the morning about what we can expect.

My Dad is spending the night in the hospital with John. I came home to be with the kids. I am actually looking forward to sleeping through the night without worrying that John may wander around the house in confusion.

I am feel the stretch of choosing which members of my family need me most each day.
Do I leave John to be with the kids?
Do I leave the kids again to be with John?

If John were home we would be praying this as part of Compline together.

Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Book of Common Prayer, p. 133

Falling Snow

The tiny signs of Spring from this weekend were covered with a fresh dusting of chilly snow yesterday. Our hearts feel chilled as our desires for John's quick and complete healing have taken another plunge beneath the dark ground.

Yesterday John's Calcium was 16.7 and his Hemoglobin 8.2. His kidney function (2.7) is greatly compromised. He will get a blood transfusion tomorrow. Please join us in fasting and prayer for the regression of this cancer.

Remarkably Well

Tombstone Cross

Each week is marked by numerous trips to the treatment center. We are now on a regular M-W-F schedule. This is a relief to me because I can plan my week. Up until yesterday, we didn't know how many days or which days we would have to be there.

You may remember that the level of Calcium in John's blood is the most serious health issue he is facing. Calcium in the blood is dangerous for the kidneys. Most of us never give our kidneys a second thought, but when you are relying on them to filter out deadly toxins, you need to keep them good and strong. After receiving medication and fluids this week, John's Calcium level only went down a smidge. When we saw Dr. Hantel yesterday, John's calcium had gone from 15.7 on Wednesday to 15.4. (Normal is 8. 5 to 10.5) Dr. Hantel told us that the body and brain adjust to high levels of Calcium. If I were to have that level of Calcium in my blood, I would be in a coma. He said that the levels are not predictable for John. They go up and then they go down. He said this is "unexplainable." He also said, "Six months ago, I could not have told you whether we would be sitting here having this conversation. You are holding up remarkably well."

We know that John's life hangs in the balance. But underneath are the everlasting arms. God holds nothing carelessly. John’s life will unfold according to God’s purpose. It will not slip away without being released by God. No doctor can tell us how long John's body will be able to "hold up remarkably well". We simply throw ourselves into the everlasting arms.

Of course there are moments of fear and sadness. But today I am encouraged to walk in the way of the cross. The way of the cross is the way of death followed by resurrection. In Mark 4 Jesus said,

"With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."

When I plant a seed, I believe that a plant will grow. When I put a basil seed into the dirt, I am looking forward to a tomato basil salad in July. And yet, to see the plant, I have to bury the seed in the cold, hard earth. My part is to hope for the basil and plant the seed. God will take care of the rest. Bringing something from nothing is God’s character, His being. He will do it. Bringing life from death is the Gospel.

In Christ, the reality of death is unavoidable. If we are going to follow Christ, and as Paul writes in Romans to “suffer with him”, there will be many deaths in our lives. Ultimately it is our physical death, but the principle of placing our hopes, desires, prayers and lives into the cold, hard earth, seeing them covered with dirt and frozen throughout winter, is part of the package.

In the mystery of Christ, life follows silence... stillness... death … burial.

Life comes from death.

Getting Better

Dear Friends,

My TO DO List is long today and so I give you a quick update. I know many of you have been concerned about John's pain. Thank you for your love and prayers. I am thrilled to tell you that his pain is MUCH improved. The combination of prayer, pain medications and radiation have allowed John the freedom to sleep and move about with significantly reduced pain. His calcium level is still very high, indicated ongoing bone degeneration. We will be spending the fourth day this week getting IV treatment for this life-threatening illness.

Because John's pain, mobility and medication have needed lots of care and management, the Fawcetts Sr. have been gracious enough to extend their stay. I know that I am continuing to keep my head above water because of their constant presence. Their service combined with the childcare from my parents and the meals from the church have held us up. Thank you all so much. We are being held up by your hands and prayers.

With gratitude,
Margie for the Fawcetts

The Valley of Vision

As I went to grab my glasses this morning, I paused for a moment looking at my bedside table. The Valley of Vision. Next to my new devotional book sat my glasses and my tissues from the long, painful night.

John was not able to sleep much due to pain. I often hear him reciting the Lord's Prayer and the Jesus Prayer in the night. I have not been able to sleep next to John since August. His body is too tenderly pained for me to be close. Last night, his pain was so great, his ability to find a comfortable position impossible. He called out to me knowing that if my presence would not create new pain, that my presence might actually bring him comfort.

The words that flowed out of me, born of the Spirit, freshly bringing Jesus...

The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. In the presence of my enemies, You prepare a table for me. You annoint my head with oil. My cup overflows. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. Your rod and your staff they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever...

Lying gently near his frail frame, we both fell asleep for an hour before dawn.

Quarry me deep, dear Lord,

and then fill me to overflowing

with living water.

A small portion of a prayer from The Valley of Vision, A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions, The Banner of Truth Trust, edited by Arthur Bennett, 1975

Thank you Shirley and Dale

Trouble Brewing

As I wrote last time, John has been experiencing tremendous pain. Although we are not thrilled about the results, it is good to now know what is causing this pain. He had an MRI last night and they found a "dramatic" lesion at Lumbar 2 which is obliterating the space in the canal and squeezing the nerves. Dr. Hantel said, "Is he able to stand?" I said, "Yes. He can stand and walk, but both with pain and for a short time." When you hear an oncologist say, "dramatic" you pay attention. We are on our way out the door at this very minute to begin the radiation. As I left our bedroom to come across the hall and write this note, John was praying, "Alleluia, Lord. My body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. A million miracles are going on in my body all the time. I am able to walk through more than they know." We are grateful that John is able to walk and that there is an immediate intervention that will take off some of the pressure. Obviously, this is not going to "cure" the problem, but we need this help to preserve his mobility.

And for me, I am grateful that I was able to weep a little this morning. Sometimes I just can't bring up the tears and I really NEED to, so I don't get migraines and what not. Also, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for a husband that is crying out to the Lord in the midst of this valley. Thank you, Lord, for John's trust in You. His faith is helping me along, too.

By the way, at the eleventh hour, John's parents decided NOT to leave. They have been here all week. This Monday, Bill will return home to Brazil. Mary will stay on throughout the radiation. Thanks be to God.

Update

I don't have a lot to say, but wanted to jot the latest. Yesterday we had a regularly-scheduled, weekly lab visit. John's Calcium was 14.3. That is higher than it was last week. John was hospitalized back in ?October? when his Calcium reached 15.9. Dr. Hantel said that was off the charts and that most people are not conscious or sitting up and talking to him at that level.

So, yesterday, John had a drug treatment and IV fluids. They wanted to see him for labs again today and his calcium was 13.8. They kept him to give fluids again. Now they want to see him tomorrow. The doctor may try to flush the calcium with more fluids or give some kind of a drug.

Because of Charlotte's swimming lessons, I did not go to the hospital today. John's Dad took him. After the swimming lesson, I decided to take the kids to Edwards to see John's treatment. I have been praying about including them, especially Charlotte, in some way. It seems of growing importance that she have some frame of reference for what it means that we are going to the "doctor" all the time. It was a short visit, but the kids loved it. Of course the nurses all thought they were wonderful and gave them juice and graham crackers. We played Chutes and Ladders (which they have on the unit) and took a little tour. Charlotte said to John, "I am worried about this tube going into your arm. It worries me that it hurts you." John explained these things to Charlotte and told her he wasn't worried about the medicine at all, and that it didn't really even hurt.

Now she has something to imagine when we say we are going to the doctor. I hope the experience will give her a frame of reference from which to ask questions as they come up.

Something surprising happened today. John was told after the lab work that he would need to stay for fluids. When John hears this, his first response is not one of gratitude toward the doctors and nurses for their helpful interventions. He eventually comes around, but his first response is usually frustration at the realization of more time at the hospital and less time for ... He said something like, "I guess they are trying to help me and I need to receive what is necessary." One of the nurses we have seen there for months, took both of John's hands in hers. She said, "Lets pray. Dear Lord, we pray that whatever John's body needs is what he will receive here today. Amen." John looked up in shock and joy. He said, "Do you believe that?" "Yes," she said. "Then you should do that with as many people as you possible can here." We had no idea she was a woman of faith and just knowing that lifts my heart somehow.

The last time I wrote, I was weeping and wailing over my losses. Right now I am having trouble feeling anything at all. My heart feels like it is racing all the time and I want to grab John and hold onto him for dear life.

The Frozen Chosen

Can you believe this weather? One day this week the high was ZERO! I just had to include this photo of my bed. I sleep right next to our sliding glass door. Yes! That is ice. Amazingly, I am not really frozen. We have a heater that keeps the room very warm, but ice comes in through the windows. Charlotte pulled a book off the shelf in that room one morning and she could not open it. It was frozen shut!!

The medical reports were mixed this week. Hemoglobin 10.5, the highest it has been in months. Calcium 13 and needing treatment. John was sent to the ER in July for a Calcium of 12.4 (it really goofs up the kidneys).

This has been a hard week for me. It started with noticing a large tumor on John's chest. The last time I had seen it, maybe four weeks ago, it was like a small pebble. I gasped when I saw the egg-sized mass on his rib. I could not believe the amount of visible growth in such a short time. It seems like we are going along just fine and then suddenly a bucket of cold water hits my face. When people ask, "How is John doing?" I always say, "Great. He's really doing great, or at least pretty well." This week I took a step back and saw how that response is within a bigger picture of difficulty.

It is true that John is doing great. He is clinging to Christ and continuously open to confessing sin and receiving life and hope from the Lord. He is doing "great" in the way that saints persevere during trials and learn with Paul, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Phil 4: 12 But he is doing "great" while at the same time fighting for his life. He is frail and fragile. I not only miss the wonderful feeling of being squeezed by John, but I can't hug him either.


On Monday Charlotte and I went to Culvers together for lunch after preschool. It was a holiday and so lots of children were there with their families. I sat there eating my grilled Reuben and mindlessly watching fleece-bound children bouncing into the restaurant. Moms and Dads queried their bobbing bundles about hamburgers, chicken fingers, lemonade, etc. A Dad and his two little girls came and sat at the booth next to us. For them it was one of a million little interactions they have with their Dad that they don't think twice about, nor will they remember. But the estrangement I felt from that situation settled on me like a bad fish sandwich. We are getting up and going about our lives, but our lives are greatly changed. It has been in this week that I have felt the change in a new way.

Are we doing fine? Yes. Are we taking one day at a time? Yes. Is God good all the time? Yes. Are we learning to give thanks in ALL circumstances? Yes. Yes, all of these things are true.

And at the same time, you will not bump into John at Culvers with his kids. You will not see him standing in line to order or carrying a tray of food. You will not see him sitting comfortably in a booth or chatting about the weather. All of these things are beyond his physical limitations right now.

I am endeavoring to keep a warm sense of normalcy in our home, but this week I am sad. I am lonely. I miss my husband's energy and loud laughter filling a restaurant as we decide who ordered the tastiest meal. I miss his list of 100 things he would like to do and see over the weekend. I miss his ability to stay up talking for several hours after the kids are in bed. I miss seeing him stand at the bathroom sink and shave, coming to the table with pieces of toilet paper on his chin. I miss trying to go to sleep and repeatedly being awakened by his chuckles as he reads Richard John Neuhaus' Public Square in First Things.


When John got home from work last night, (yes, he's been working! He goes in the morning and the afternoon for a few hours.) I burst into uncontrollable tears. The kids were at my parents for the night and seeing him hobbling in trying to get warm by the heater... I just couldn't stop. I simply felt, "I miss you." I get so very little time to connect with John because of our various schedules and responsibilities. Feeling disconnected makes this process all the harder to endure. Even at a time like this, so many things get in the way of our nurturing our marriage. This is so important to both of us and we are learning.

I read the story of Noah to the kids week. The Lord opened that scripture to my heart and mind in a way I had never known it before. I can't describe it fully, I just know it fed me. One thing I took away was imagining what that time in the ark must have been like. Noah had spent over one hundred years and probably his life's savings building the thing. And then once they got in, there was a long wait before anything happened. I thought of John and me sealed up in our "ark" of marriage and waiting for the journey that God has prepared us for to begin. And then it begins with a bang. Imagine how terrifying it must have been to hear the storm and feel the unleashed waters of the deep lifting and tossing the ark in a tempest. We, too, are in a tempest. We are warm (except for the ice on the door) and dry, our basic needs are met, but we are, nonetheless, in a tempest.



But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded. (Genesis 8:1) God knows we are huddled together in the ark waiting out the storm. He is in complete control and we are waiting for him to send a wind so that the waters will recede.

And yet, Lord, teach us "the secret of being content in any and every situation."

Lovingly,
Frosty
I'll take a big hug and an order of onion rings with that.

Update

Dear friends,
I haven't written in a week or so. Some of you get nervous when I don't write. Don't worry. If I do not write, that means things are status quo. When things heat up I find myself at the computer a lot.

Each morning I know John is awake when I hear him say, "Praise the Name of the Lord. He is worthy of our praise." It is a precious way to begin the day.

Today we are at the hospital and John is getting two units of blood. (Hemoglobin 8.8) John was disappointed to miss getting into the office this afternoon. He is using the opportunity to work for the library on the computer here.

I have been taking photos for a future blog, A DAY IN THE LIFE AT THE TREATMENT CENTER. I'll get home and download them in the next few days.

John looks quite good and has remarkable energy these days. He has been going to work in both the mornings and afternoons each day. After Communion on Sunday, he stood on the sides of the sanctuary praying for others. Unbelievable.

I have been feeling down in the dumps about my life lately. If you think of praying for me while you're at it, that would be great. I am in need of a vision from the Lord for this season of my life. I think I am in a transition from "crisis mode" to "regular life... sort of" and I need to push through this.

More on this and many other things forthcoming...
Margie

Update

We are delighted to say that John did not need any treatment today. It is so nice to go into the Cancer Center and leave within an hour. When John receives treatment, we can count on at least six hours, usually longer.

They chose not to give John blood, but his hemoglobin was 9.2. This is not dreadful, but we want to see it going up... not down. Last week it was 10.0.

Going to the hospital is always a little depressing, and not getting GREAT news set us up for feeling drained. Its just after 9pm and we are all heading to bed.

In the Bleak... Mid-Winter?

Last Week.
















Today



A warm walk outside and we find a worm on the driveway!

Charlotte's hair in the warm, wet air.


















Tomorrow, Wednesday, we will visit the hospital for blood checks. Join us in praying that John's hemoglobin will be excellent and no blood will be needed!

Amazing! Amazing!

If my last post about John's health was Amazing, this one is

Amazing! Amazing!

Today was our weekly blood work at the Cancer Center. For the second time we were SENT HOME with no care needed.
NOTHING.

Do you remember how a few weeks ago the doctor suggested John get two transfusions a week?

John's Hemoglobin was 10.0, higher than last week's 9.8 . His kidney function has been perfect for over a month. He walked in on his own two feet. All of the nurses were coming over to him to saying, "You look great! What have you been doing?" One nurse named Derek said, "Eating spinach?" I said, "Drinking it!" John briefly told how his Mother juices vegetables for him and provides an excellent diet. Mary was quick to say, "But really its prayer. Praise God." And Derek said, "Yes, He's the One that deserves it!"

John was tender with tears and thanksgiving. He whispered, "I asked the Lord for 10.0 and it was 10.0. Thank You, Lord."

Thank you for your prayers

A few weeks ago, we were walking through the valley of the SHADOW of death. John's life hung tenderly in the balance. He could barely sit up or move. He was eating less than our two year old son. He was in constant pain. He was incoherent many times throughout the day. We are still in a war, but that battle seems to be behind us. I am absolutely convinced that we were delivered as a result of your prayers. Thank you.

We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered ... We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.

II Corinthians 1: 8- 11

The war goes on and we covet your continued prayers, but let us all pause and give thanks to the Lord for His victory on John's behalf in that battle.

Since that time John has gained over five pounds. He is totally lucid. He has worked at the computer several times. He is less overwhelmed by the children. The blood clot is dramatically smaller. His blood levels are fairly good. He is receiving a transfusion just now to keep his hemoglobin level up.

And as far as his appetite?

I'll tell you what he ate for breakfast:

The Breakfast of Champions
Three scrambled eggs
Four High Protein Pancakes (Recipe forthcoming)
Bowl of Steel Cut Oats
Papaya and Grapes
Freshly juiced carrot, apple, lime, spinach, broccoli, celery and cabbage.

Having John's Mother with us has boosted all of our spirits and nutrition!
Thank you Mary Fawcett.

Inch by Inch

Since Sunday morning we have noticed a strengthening in John. He thrived at church and has wanted to chat, watch videos and work. He came upstairs for breakfast yesterday which he had not done in days. Charlotte was so thrilled she jumped from her chair and said, "Let's do Advent!" She seized the moment and brought to the table our Advent prayers, bowl of coffee beans and candles. The moment John's body gets a bit of energy, he comes to life with conversations and curiosity. In one such moment, I got out the video camera and got a few of his thoughts. One thing he said was, "It's a battle. Its a battle. I need prayer and support."

If we get behind on the pain medication, John has a great deal of pain. At bedtime last night he groaned, "How would you feel if you kept going down, down, down and others were giving up on you?" We slept through one time for meds and by the time we awakened and tried to get to the bathroom, he was saying, "Is there ever a time when you are dying that its possible not feel such incredible pain? Am I misperceiving the Lord as giving me pain?" But by the time he got back to the bed he said, "Margie, can you believe it? I'm still alive. The Lord is using you, your prayers along with many others. I am learning things I never would have learned." "Like what?" I ask. "How to love the Lord and love your wife in the middle of inexplicable pain."

Today is a day at the hospital. And, glory to God, its going great. I feel the clenching in my jaw beginning to relax. Now that the swelling is going down in John's leg, he is more mobile. Getting into the van was not as huge an issue. We were thrilled with the results of the blood work. He did not need a transfusion! His Hemoglobin is 10.8, Calcium is stable and kidney function is better than it has ever been. So today we receive only IV fluids and a med for Calcium. Even the nurses and doctor are congratulating John. They notice he is alert and not always using a wheelchair.

With a boost of energy returns his desire for delicious food. He has indicated he would like a little more spice/variety in his diet. You can imagine a diet with no salt, sugar or meat could get dull. I said, "Honey, you tell me what you want and I'll go to the moon to bring it here." I ordered a huge Lou Malnati's pizza with sausage, mushroom, onion, garlic, spinach and fresh tomatoes. We had a feast right in the treatment center.

We will return to the hospital next Monday, skipping the previously-scheduled Friday visit. Alleluia.

One other thing: In the middle of the night he said something like, "I am praying for you Margie. I know you are afraid. You are worried about the burden if I die." "I am crying out to the Lord for your life, John," I said.

I am crying out to the Lord for John's life. AND I am terrified that he is going to die. And it is in those moments... terror... when I foreclose on the possiblity of healing and imagine what I will do if he dies. Now, I know that some of this is perfectly normal and even wise. But the Lord is letting me know when a simple wise amount of forethought has moved into the realm of FREAKING OUT. And then I hear the words from I Peter 3, "You are Sarah's daughters if you do what is right and DO NOT GIVE WAY TO FEAR." As I wrote in a previous post (Staying Connected in the Desert), fear is a weapon of the Enemy for many reasons. For me right now, it causes near physical panic and a lack of prayer. As long as there is breath, I MUST continue to pray for healing. The works of God are not based on what I can see, like a deteriorating body. The works of God bring to be WHAT IS NOT.

For years I have taught others about using prayer to build a ministry, a classroom, a home. Its a simple process when I hold the hand of Jesus. I just say, "Lord, I glorify your Name. I invite You to come into this situation. Show me what You are doing so I can simply follow Your lead." And then I see in my mind's eye whatever it is I desire. These desires have included: children worshiping, children filled with joy, weak wills strengthened, boundaries solidified, and now bones healing. All this prayer is is opening my desires to God and making them a prayer, a prayer of holy collaboration with Him. When fear grips me about John's health, my heart pounds, my head falls and sometimes I do not pray. I think I have been afraid to hope, to really, really hope. I find my heart trying to protect itself from being surprised by shattering grief. But once again I must be present to each moment. My walk of faith is opening my heart to the love and goodness of God and trusting Him with my circumstances. I can be present to Jesus at only one moment: this one.

Pray that I will open and entrust my heart to Christ and invite his love to pour into me again and again.

Lord, give me the courage to trust You.
I lift to You my precious husband, John.
I see him playing the piano and leading worship.
I hear his loud, hilariuos laugh.
I see him carrying Charlotte and Josiah on his shoulders.
I see him leading us through Europe as his friend Mario called his tour guiding, "Following the bouncing grey ball."
I see him dashing off to work in the Silver Bullet.
I hear him expounding on Wagner and Berlioz.
I see him alive and well.

Come Lord Jesus, come.
Amen.

Weekend

We had a quiet weekend with no earth-shatteringly new developments. John was thrilled to make it to church this morning. I can tell he is feeling better because he has the energy to be bored. He said tonight, "I did not move to this room to die. That is not what is happening." More power to you, John. He is fighting for life with every ounce of energy he has. And when he has no energy I see the Lord holding him in His hands.



Our kids are doing great. They are excited about Christmas and having Mimi and Paw Paw here. They love to visit with Daddy a few minutes each day. I have included a few photos from last night. Charlotte is trying out the bell that Daddy uses for "Room Service." Josiah is sampling the fruit.





John's blood clot must be shrinking because the swelling is going down. So much to be thankful for.




And for those of you who were wondering:
Garden Quiche
Sally's Cinnamon Rolls
Honeydew and Oranges
Hot coffee
(Thanks Sally aka Meals on Wheels)

PS. Please scroll down to see the lovely gift of poetry we received this week.

Surviving

John asked his Mother this morning as he was struggling to get dressed and out the door, "Do people survive this?" We said, "Yes. They do. And you are surviving this, too."

The simplest things are difficult for John. Getting to the bathroom or sitting up for a meal can be exhausting. So getting dressed and out the door to the hospital is an enormous expenditure of energy for him.

We are at the hospital now. His hemoglobin is up to 8.4 after the blood he received on Tuesday. He will receive two more units of blood today to boost him for the weekend.

John's father sat next to his bed this morning and read the Daily Office.

I am feeling better already with antibiotics pulsing through my system. I don't feel terrible, but I still have no voice. Please pray that my voice will return so that I can minister to John. My favorite thing to do is sing to him.

If you missed the post about my brother, check it out below. (It posted on TR.)

Quiet Day

John is feeling a little better today. He has slept most of the time. His brother-in-law and our pastor, Stewart, stopped by this morning to pray and give him communion. Tomorrow we will be at the hospital to get a transfusion. The doctor hopes more blood will bring more energy.

I woke up with no voice this morning. I went to the doctor and I have an ear/sinus infection. Thanks be to God I have a loving spirit-filled doctor. She cared for my medical needs and then invited the three other members of the team to come in to pray. They anointed me with oil and layed their hands on me for healing.

Day at the Hospital

Difficult day. We have been at the hospital since 11 am, its now nearly 4 pm. John will receive blood and fluid for three more hours. At 7pm we will go over to the hospital for an ultrasound of his leg. There is most likely a blood clot. He gained four pounds this week, which can only be attributed to large amounts of fluid in his leg. He certainly doesn't eat enough to gain weight. This blood clot is giving him a lot of pain when he tries to get around. We are relatively certain that he has a bladder infection, too.

As I sit here at the hospital, I am feeling anxious. I love having this time with John and watching him cry out to the Lord moment by moment as well as crack jokes when they come to mind. I also feel torn that I am not with my children. They have had all-day play dates four out of the last five days. John's care has required my constant attention and I have needed this kind of support. At the same time it breaks my heart. Please continue to pray for the kids. Now that John's parents are here, I will not need to provide all of the care for John.

We have taken a lot of video footage in the last few days. I got a few moments of John talking on the phone to his friend Mario this morning. He was saying, "I am learning that life is all about loving others. No matter what is happening for me, I am to be loving others."

At 6am this morning, I got up to give John his medication. He was quite sprightly, and had things on his mind. I wanted to get even a few more minutes of sleep and finally had to say, "I'm not listening about Richard P. Strauss any longer. I am going to sleep!" I put a sock over my head and don't know if he kept talking or not!

No visitors right now, please.

Thank you for your ongoing support.

Beauty of the Lord

It is difficult to get to the computer these days. I think of writing an update throughout the day, but something usually demands my attention. I know that many of you are faithfully following our journey and I want to keep you informed as much as I can. Now that it is 11:30 pm, the kids are down, the 10pm medication cycle is complete, I can sit here for a moment. But I really should sleep, that part gets left out quite a bit, too!

Over the weekend John's health took a sharp decline. We were able to get him to church using a wheelchair. Going to church was not an option. All he wanted to do was to be in the presence of the Lord and worship.

When I went in to give John his 10pm medication, he was just waking up. He said something like, "I am having so many visions of the Lord. I am too tired to tell you about them now. The beauty of the Lord is amazing. Things that weigh people down are a distraction from the beauty of the Lord."

Just before he fell asleep tonight, he was telling me about Mendelsson's opera Elijah. We got out the lobretto and he read portions of it to me. He remembers using that text to learn how to type in the 10th grade. (I think my typing curriculum was something like, "See Spot Run.")

We will be at the hospital most of the day tomorrow receiving outpatient treatment. I imagine that will mean fluids, meds for high calcium and a blood transfusion.

Thank you for your love and support.
Tonight THREE dinners were delivered to our home. Amazing.