The trauma of being told that your husband has cancer can't be put into words easily. I want to soothe his pain. I want someone to fix it. I want the years to jump backwards to when we first met in college, when the babies woke us up in the night, when we poured over house plans to build our first home, when the kids were in confirmation and quiet evenings on the first deck we built together.
It all came crashing down on July 6th.
David has battled lung and heart changes for 18 months, a path that surprised us at every turn. A horrible tunnel of tests, surgeries and pain. And waiting; to find answers, to understand. And by the end of 2014 there was closure. The answers were found. His body repaired and healed.
It genuinely felt like the worst was behind us.
Then a new CT Scan indicates something is still wrong six months later. Surgery and pathology results confirm the fear. What had been labelled as benign became characterized as cancer. It feels unfair. This kind and loving man has been through too much. And now more medical appointments, more procedures, more anxiety.
But we are not alone. Too many others are faced with this same realization that life is delicate and can change without warning.
The blessings come in the shape of family and friendships and the grace of God.
Our kids rallied around us last week like eagles over a nest. The littlest ones bring smiles and laughter. They are beautiful distractions.
We are walking with Sophie, thankful for warm weather that is filled with possibilities. We cry. We try to keep busy. We are busy. We pray for guidance. We rest.
We look to the future with a huge sense of urgency and a sense that we have many more things to accomplish.
It has taken time to absorb the initial shock. Time to find our voices again.
The weight is lightened because others share the burden with us. We know we are loved by God, family and friends and that is a wonderful thing.