No Good Way to Say It

 In the last couple of months, Clay has written blog posts to update on where he is on this journey. Every time I read them, and they are good and true and hard, but just hasn't wanted to post them for various reasons. I think it's partly because there's just no good way to say bad news. No matter how you say it, the words still get stuck in your throat and no matter how many times you write and rewrite it, it will never sound good. Because the devastating truth is that none of this is good. 

In May Clay woke up on the morning of Eden's pre-k graduation and said he was feeling so bad, he didn't think he could go. Of course, I understood. I told him I would pick him up if he changed his mind or I would come home after it was over. Well, the next thing I know he shows up at the church for the graduation, sits through it, encourages our sweet girl, takes the pictures. Then tells me he thinks we should go to the hospital because he could hardly breathe because of chest pain. This put us in the hospital for a few days running numerous tests and trying to determine the cause. In the end, they weren't able to figure it out completely, but they had managed to lessen the pain and sent us home. 

During this time, the oncologist told us that she would normally take us off of his current treatment because the chest pain could be a side effect, but that once we stopped this treatment, we had exhausted all of our options. Though we had our suspicions that this was the case, we were understandably filled with dread. I think that pretty much sums up the last two months: dread. Just a heaviness that we wake up with and carry all the time-in the midst of trying our best to enjoy the summer with the kids. 

In June, Clay had a brain scan that showed several suspicious spots. The oncologist wanted to wait a month and rescan just to be sure. We did that scan last Thursday (7/16) and it was by far the worst brain scan he has had. After around 8 months of stable scans, there were over a dozen either new or growing tumors. We were devastated. 

The weekend that followed ended up being the most painful weekend that Clay has had - unable to get comfortable, pain at an all-time high, as well as high anxiety over this news. After a couple nights of very little sleep, we decided to go to the ER on Monday evening to try to get some relief for him. Long story short, after hours of waiting and never seeing a doctor, we got a hotel and went to the cancer center urgent care Tuesday morning. From there, we met with his oncologist, and she confirmed what we knew was true - his current treatment is no longer effectively controlling the cancer, and we have no more treatment options to try. She recommended admitting us to the hospital to get his pain under control and then proceeding with hospice care at home once we leave here. 

Our hearts are broken. No matter what we know to be true about the hope of heaven and how this life is a vapor, this is not the story we wanted. It is not the ending we had hoped for. It is not the answer to the prayers our children have prayed every night for the last 3+ years. We do not lose faith, and our Comforter is so near, but oh how we grieve.

I would ask specifically for prayers for us as we tell our children. In their own way, they can see that their daddy has been feeling worse, but up until this point our goal has been to protect them from the heaviness of this journey rather than prepare them for the worst. However, we will need to have impossible conversations with them. I have read this liturgy often and would ask that you would pray it for them with us:

Giving Your Children Bad News

O Lord, in a few moments
I have to tell my kids one of the worst things 
I hope they will ever hear.

Have mercy on us, O Lord,

I know you love them more than I

could ever love them.

Help me remember that truth

as I watch the pain cross their faces,

and also in the coming months 

as I shepherd them through the grief 

that is sure to follow.

May this moment of awful revelation

not become a memory that might uproot

their budding faith, but rather one that plants it

deeper within them, turning their young hearts

to you in the midst of their dismay and giving

those gospel seeds the resiliency they need to 

flourish for a lifetime, no matter the suffering or 

the circumstances they experience in their lives. 

Help me not to fall apart as I tell them, O Lord. 

Help me hold my emotions together so that 

I don't scare them, but also let me be open enough 

of a window into my own sorrow that they

might see that it is okay and good to grieve,

to weep, and to express their feelings.

Sovereign Lord, this news is so awful

my children likely won't even understand

some parts of it. And I'm not sure quite

how to explain it. Grant me wisdom, insight,

and understanding to communicate

just enough that they might comprehend

this heartbreak in an age-appropriate way,

but also such that no horrid,

graphic details would lodge

in their dreams and imaginations. 

I rely on you, Holy Spirit, to be

my counselor, nudging me toward

what to tell and what to hold back. 

Let me be sensitive and responsive 

to your voice that I might

in this moment become a conduit

of your wisdom and

your love for my children.

There will almost certainly be a loss 

of innocence in learning of this news.

My children will begin to understand

hard truths about life and humanity.

Till now I've tried to guard their hearts

from things too dark for them to deal with.

I've tried to show them the flourishing 

and the beauty of your good creation. 

Now they will also hear of the horrors that

followed on the heels of the fall.

Lord, may they know that you are still good. 

May they better see why the news of your 

coming kingdom is such a great hope.

May they begin to learn how you will subvert

even this evil, somehow using it for the 

good of your people and for your glory. 

I entrust their innocence to your hands.

Lord, our great Healer-

redeem the trauma this brings

to our lives. Let your redemption be

active in ways we cannot even imagine.

Redeem the shock and the wounds

we will feel. And redeem the wreckage 

in the lives of those affected most directly. 

Do not let this trauma lodge for long

in our bodies, spirits, or minds, O Lord.

Make us resilient. Let our faith become more 

rooted and fierce in the face of storm and

darkness. Give us a grit that would glorify you,

using even this experience to make our lives

more sheltering for others in their sorrow. 

Hold us, heal us, comfort us, Lord Jesus.

We entrust you with all that is good

and all that is awful in our lives. 

Be near us in the hard conversation

soon to happen. Be our balm and our

guide, our counselor and our shepherd,

in the hours and days and months that follow.

Amen.

From: Every Moment Holy, Volume III

By: Janel Davis 

Prayer requests:

-We know that nothing is too hard for God, and it is still good and right to pray for a miracle even now. And in the same breath, I'm reminded of something Clay wrote to me in a letter for our anniversary in May. "I'm thankful we don't have to kind of weak faith that believes God is only good if we get what we want." He went on to simply state the gospel - God is good because we have already been given more than we deserve in eternal life with Him.  

-Clay's pain management to get under control so that we can go home quickly

-Details for this transition. We don't know what to do, but we know that God will go before us and behind us and walk beside us every step of the way.

-Our sweet babies

-Peaceful and precious days at home 

We love you guys. 

Ready, break.