Comic Relief

My family doesn't always react as you might expect and we often use humor during the gravest times.  Over 20 years ago Michelle was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and ever since she gets two defective brain jokes for every offering of sympathy.

Michelle had some problems back in February that put her into a wheel chair (when Mandy wasn't plopping her in a regular chair so she could see how long she could keep the thing up on two wheels).  As a result, Michelle had some neurological exams and MRI images to determine if the problems that kept her from walking were a pinched nerve or the MS.  One of the MRI pictures showed she has lesions consistent with a blood based or metastatic cancer (which opens a whole other story I'm not going into right now).  I'll never forget the day they we got called into the office so they could give us the news.

To be clear,  I'm a guy who rarely recalls a date, but this one is etched in my mind forever.  It was February 14th of this year.  We got home from the doctor consult and there was a vase of orchids on the table with a card from Mandy.  The card said:

"Getting a cancer diagnosis on the most expensive flower day of the year ... nicely played".

When Shane got the news about his mother I believe his comment was along the lines of "Oh great, we already have to ride bikes for the MS, now we have to walk for cancer too?"

So as you can imagine we've spent a lot of time sitting in the hospital this week, and as you can imagine we've spent quite a few hours trying to keep it together.  Well, our friend Tim came to visit one afternoon and at some point he suggested we go downstairs and donate blood.

For my part, I never pass up an opportunity to donate blood with Tim because he always falls down afterwards and it's a hoot to watch the nurses and techs freak out.   (Apparently Tim doesn't fall down anymore so that's a pint of blood I'll never get back...but I digress)

So I'm laying on the little couch waiting for my turn.  Now, keep in mind that idle time is the worst time when you are dealing with an illness like Shane's - your mind can wander so many unpleasant places.  Anyway, there is a 50's radio station playing in the background and as the tech is doing the iodine prep the song "Oh where oh where can my baby be" comes on (now the people my age are connecting to where I'm going while the young'uns are a bit lost).  I found myself struggling to keep my composure when a thought, typical for me, but probably unthinkably cruel for normal people, crosses my mind.

"I could wait until she sticks the needle in my vein and then just stop fighting these tears and start sobbing like a little girl - that would be interesting"

Well the thought of the tech's reaction broke the emotion brought by the song.  The needle stick was just routine.  As my opportunity to be mean to this complete stranger vaporized it served as a gentle reminder.  Laughter is the best medicine (well, that and chemotherapy, anti-nausea medicine, morphine, and colon stints so my son won't be full of ... um ... so my son won't get septic).

I'm Not Praying for a Cure

The last post, "Playing Where's Waldo with God" wasn't just philosophy, it was my heart felt reaction to challenges we faced as a family.  Starting in February when I wrote the post, we didn't have an answer, and today Waldo is still out there in the noise.

The middle of last week Shane (who was working in Brazil) had some health issues and flew home early.  Sunday after church we got word that my little boy lies in a hospital bed with colon cancer that has metastasized and spread.  Along with the tumors in his colon, he also has tumors all over his liver and cancer surging to every corner of his body through his blood.  Michelle and I helplessly watch as doctors work swiftly in an attempt to prolong his life.  I'm completely powerless to do a single thing about it, and for my part I'm not praying for a cure.

During our first few years of marriage Michelle got pregnant twice and both babies died.  Shane was our third pregnancy, but before Shane there were the years of "trying" without success. 

At that time I was a young deacon in the church in Casper Wyoming.  I prayed desperately during those years telling God what good parents we would be, and how we would do everything to raise a fine Christian example in a child if God would just hear and respond to our pleading for a baby.

We got nothing but silence from God.

As we tried to fill the hole in our hearts left by the children we lost, we turned to the medical community and went through all the humiliation testing.  The doctors tried to determine why Michelle wasn't getting pregnant and I continued my fruitless attempts to get God to hear as I begged for a child.

Still, God was silent. 

It seemed as if he didn't care, or wasn't listening.

As the years went by and the situation got more hopeless and desperate, the day came when my prayer changed.  Instead of telling God what I needed, what I wanted, I closed my eyes and told God how I was tired of the situation that I obviously couldn't handle myself.  My prayer changed and rather than telling the Lord what I wanted, I begged him to tell me what HE wanted.

The next day the doctors called and asked Michelle and I to meet with them.  During the meeting they told us that we would never have children.

I hit my knees that night and said "Fine God, I got it and I'm ok with that answer, but I still have this hole from the babies we lost.  Please tell me how to fill it.  Should I get more involved with the youth at the church?  Should we adopt?  Can you make this desperation go away?  Lead me, Lord, show me the way to find peace".

The following Wednesday we found out Michelle was pregnant with Shane.

The lesson was two fold.  First, and most importantly, he is God.  He doesn't need me to tell him what I need, what I want, or how to run things. 

Second, from the perspective of the big picture, I'm pretty much clueless about what is best for me.  If you had asked me if losing those first two children was a good thing at the time, there is no way I would have gotten the correct answer.  Sitting here 30 years later, I realize it was one of the best things in my life up to that point.  My kids are so much more valuable to me than they would have been otherwise and my personal growth through those hard times helped form who I am now.

God might know that it's time to take Shane back or he may understand a different outcome.   Even though the Waldo is completely lost in the noise for me right now, I have a clear understanding of who I am, who God is, and faith that God's grace is going to be sufficient should it turn out that I need it.

So I'm not asking God to cure my son's cancer.

It's not that I don't pray.  In situations like this, prayer is all I have, but my prayer doesn't offer up what I want.  Matthew 6 tells me he already knows that and it tells me I need to ask for God's will to be done. 

My prayer is that God will exercise his will in this situation and if that happens to be different than what I'm hoping for I ask that he gives me the extra grace I need to get through it.