Lamentations 3:22 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

I’m holding God to this promise.

Justin is in surgery now to have the central line placed in his chest and then receive his first dose of chemotherapy.

Justin’s fever has come down significantly.  He is more comfortable today and his pain is being controlled with morphine. We are now on the oncology floor, which will be our new home for the next month or so. The doctors and nurses have been wonderful with Justin and very tender and attentive to us as well.

Justin will have a central line put in but the cause of the fever needs to be determined before he can have this surgery. We are waiting on those results.

I am overwhelmed at the outpouring of love, support, prayer. The scriptures being sent are so sustaining. God is indeed here and showing Himself through all of you.

My faith is shaken but not failing. I am continuing to seek the face of God and lean far into His grace. “Better is one day in His courts than a thousand elsewhere…”

My shattered heart still finds reason to hope. It’s like a faint song that I am trying to hear. The melody is soft, at times barely audible above the noise. But it’s there.

Jesus.

Justin starts chemotherapy today.

Acute leukemia.

I have no other words.

Justin is running a very high fever, so antibiotics have been started. The oncology team will be here soon to hopefully be able give us solid answers.

How is any of this real?

Living the Psalms. I’m calling out to God in desperation and anger then desperately clinging to my hope in Jesus. Swinging back and forth like a pendulum in the span of a moment.

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” 2 Corinthians 4:17

The doctors let me lie on the stretcher with Justin as they administered anesthesia. I held him and sang “Jesus loves me…” until he was asleep.

They are extracting bone and bone marrow from his tiny hip to be examined by an oncologist and a pathologist. The results will tell us if he has cancer.

We are waiting.

“When peace like a river attendeth my way; when sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, ‘It is well with my soul’.”

I am praying for peace but in much sorrow and so the sea billows roll.

I spent the night holding  Justin, lying next to him in his hospital bed. Holding him while he cried in pain. Cried in fear. Cried in anger. His five-year-old mind does not understand why he has an IV in his arm, blood dripping from his nose and throbbing pain in his bones.

I stepped out of the room when I felt the lump in my throat threatening to dissolve into sobs. I stood in the hallway, desperately trying to catch my breath. I caught the eye of Justin’s Doctor. He moved toward me but I turned away. He said, “I can’t imagine…”

But I cut him off. “Please don’t talk to me right now,” I said. That sounded bad. “I’m sorry.”

But if I spoke, I would cry. I might never stop crying. And I needed to pull myself together. Justin needs me to be strong. I don’t want him to see me cracking.

I am cracked but I am not broken.

“The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all;”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭34:15-19‬ ‭

Justin is very sick. We are at CHOP and they are running tests for rheumatic disease and leukemia. We’ve been told cancer is a possibility by three different doctors. Cancer. There is no way you can ever be prepared to hear that word.

God is bigger. God is love. God is here.