Tag: strength

Sibling Speak, Pt 2 [VIDEO]

In some ways, for her, it is the hardest. She was the oldest and remembers the most. She is the oldest and sees the most.

There are many days she would gladly slay when he is manic and won’t get out of her face for so many reasons – too many reasons. But there are just as many days she would gladly slay as she sits in tears, horrified that we live in a world where people look on her little brother with anything other than love and acceptance.

In many ways, she is ‘other’ just as he is – her soul too old for her body, her eyes witness to many things kids her age will never see in their whole lives. She lives with the guilt of resenting something and someone who feels extremely and more temporary than most. She worries that her loved ones will always stay alive and only stay close.

And sometimes, she crawls into bed next to me and needs to talk through how once upon a long-ago July, I yelled for her to stay in her top bunk even as her dad carried a seizing Chase out of the bedroom and the emergency lights flashed through the dark of their bedroom window as her whole world changed before she knew it – before she even ever fully woke up.

The life of a cancer sibling is often a silent, supporting role. It has to be, and they do it so well. But here, in her own words, is a little of Darcy (with some “help” from Chase). This is raw, unfiltered, uncut – All heart, all sibling, all laughter, all pain, all in.

Moment by moment…

 

This post is dedicated to the siblings of children with cancer and special needs. Please never forget that we see your patience and bravery. You are amazing and beautiful in the struggle.

Sibling Speak [VIDEO]

He doesn’t remember a time when there wasn’t cancer in the house; when his older brother wasn’t damaged, hurtful, screaming, and beside himself with pain. He was a sweet toddler who couldn’t yet sympathize with it all, so he became a witness to and – if we’re being very honest – a victim of cancer pain at the hands of a two-year-old sibling who didn’t understand any of it himself.

He is only six now and he’s tough as nails, but will weep at the thought of anyone in pain – ever. He has a love/hate relationship with Chase – wailing on Chase at times and wailing on anyone else who dares to disparage his brother. He is the youngest and yet he is not the baby. And he himself doesn’t completely understand why a scream turns him inside out, but I know. I remember how he would run during a lab draw, when neutropenia and pain left more monster than brother on the couch to his little baby eyes.

He will spend his whole life being a part of this and having it be a part of him, and by the grace of God and fervent prayer, we never stop praying that it will be the making and not the breaking of him.

The life of a cancer sibling is often a silent, supporting role. It has to be, and they do it so well. But here, in his own words, is Karsten – sharing a little of himself. This is raw, unfiltered, uncut – All boy, all brother, all laughter, all pain, all in.

Moment by moment…

Bullying [dictionary definition]: the use of superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.

Bullying [Karsten definition]: the dictionary plus anything else he’s not a fan of Chase doing – a line of demarcation that changes every three to five minutes and may depend on how recently Chase has shared the iPad with him. 

This post is dedicated to the siblings of children with cancer and special needs. Please never forget that we see your patience and bravery. You are amazing and beautiful in the struggle.

 

The Gift of Godly Contentment

The vase crashed to the floor, shattering the fragile glass. Water and greens tumbling off the wooden table and onto the freshly cleaned carpet as the rolling, tussling boys reversed direction, their war cries drowning out any attempts to arrest their attention.

And the irony was this: as my blood pressure escalated with their fight, I wanted to laugh because I was supposed to be writing about godly contentment.

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

Hannah and Chase

How do I possibly write about something that seems to be disappearing even as I reach for it? No, not even reach…just consider it. The more I tried to put trust in God and the contentment He brings, the more I tried to put that down on a glowing computer screen, the more it seemed to allude me.

And then short days later, we were driving through the dark hills of Pennsylvania with the DVD player blaring Holiday Inn and the unpolished, unfinished words had yet to be fully written and that’s when the panic set in.

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

Karsten and Benjamin
25-year-long friends

And then it was suddenly the morning of getting up and saying all the words – speaking them to people who needed to hear. How do you give help and answers when you’re the weak one?

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

And then the answer; quiet and true. I’m doing nothing. I open my mouth, but it’s up to Jesus to open ears and hearts. And isn’t that just like Jesus…like his written promises stuffed throughout the Bible?

Strength when you need it.

Strength only and best when you recognize your weakness.

Strength to your own heart when you try to help others – so much blessing in service.

It was in laying down the stress of finding the right words, laying down the pressure to be the right person, that God made it right – made it light.

God uses the broken. 

Moment by moment.

It’s far easier to practice contentment if I don’t think about any of it, but that isn’t true peace. At times, it’s almost easier to accept that parts of our stories are random than that the painful chapters could actually hold great beauty and purpose. Don’t be afraid to lean into Him for the hope he’s promised. ~ a brief quote from my time with the ladies of Bethel Baptist Church in Wilmington, Delaware

For the full transcript of the December 3rd Christmas tea talk: “The Gift Of Godly Contentment” (wherein I share what it has looked like to wait for God in our silent and desolate times) – click here.

 

On The Unknown Road

The cold snapped in the air as the sun shone distant and too bright through the windshield of the car as we traveled along the road.  Chase’s first day of therapies.  A new building, new people, new things to be learned…the start of a new chapter.  And with the new, came the old and familiar: the fear of the unknown and the question – what lies ahead?  Always that question.

Chase’s high voice pierced the questions gripping my mind like my hands holding the steering wheel.  photo 2 (1)“Mommy? Where are we?  This is not the road to my hospital.”  For this is how Chase tells direction.  There is the road that leads to his hospital and then there is every other road ever made.  I answered and assured him that this road was a good road and that it was the way to his new therapy – therapy that would help him grow strong.

Silence followed for a brief second as he processed what he’d heard.  Then; “But Mom, are we late?”

“No, Chase.  We aren’t late.  We are right on time.”

Another moment of silence, then his voice again, this time with anger, “But Mom, this isn’t the road and we’re late!”

Steeling myself for the familiar exercise of reasoning with the irrational; I responded: “Chase, this is the road and we are not late.”  I received nothing but an angry growl and the reiteration that I was in error.

How many times would I need to speak truth to him before he heard?  

Finally, this; “Chase, do you trust me?  I know this road and I can see the clock. I know where we’re going and I know that we’re not late.  You don’t know this road, but I do.  I’ve driven on it before and I know where it goes.  Chase, you’ll just have to trust me.”

The petulant retort; “Mom, I can’t trust you because I cannot see the road and I cannot see the clock.  You can; but I cannot.”  

Suddenly, his voice was mine….mine to my Creator who speaks truth to me and calms the questions and fears at every turn.  He tells me that even though I don’t know the road, He does.  He knows where it goes and what’s along the way.  He knows the timing of it and how it will take me to places that will be hard but will make me stronger.  And I sit, petulant child that I am, and question trusting Him because I don’t know what He knows and somehow, in my small heart and mind, that makes Him seem less good and my fears seem more justified.

In that moment, that silly short moment of driving across the city, in the child voice from the back seat, I was reminded how good He is to me and that I don’t have to know what lies ahead to trust and follow.

Moment by moment.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Jeremiah 29:11

photo 1

Abundant In Power

One year ago tonight, I sat on the side of our home church sanctuary, watching Darcy and Aidan finish their Awana year.  In my arms lay a limp and sometimes whimpering Chase.  It was the tenth day since his last chemo cycle and his counts were obviously plummeting; but masked, attached to his IV, too weak to stand and in strong discomfort, he refused to leave until he’d heard Darcy and Aidan’s names read for their awards.

When Darcy’s name was called at long last (as Aidan’s had been called several minutes earlier), he sighed, fussed, and begged to go home – his little body starting to burn with fever.  Within an hour, we’d be one our way to the hospital and late this night a year ago, he’d be admitted for many days to fight infection and the chemo toll.

I’ve been thinking of those year ago moments with him in my arms all day today.  And now, one year later, THIS…

Great is our Lord and abundant in power. Psalm 147:5

Abundant indeed that he who should have no memory can stand and speak, having memorized these words.  I stand in awe…

Moment by moment.

 

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