I remember waking up to the sound of the loud train whistle early one morning.  Barely awake, we stepped off our comfortable train car.  There we were in Budapest, Hungary.  The Iron Curtain of Communism literally had just fallen.  And, there we were—aliens in a really foreign place. 

Most everything looked different there.  We didn’t understand anyone and we felt very out of place wherever we went.  People would literally stop and watch us “the Americans” pass by – it was a really weird feeling.  Bryan and I spent several days exploring the gray streets of Budapest.  We were in a surreal reality. 

I believe that experience helped prepare me for this incredibly difficult journey with Lindy.  When we stepped off the train car of ‘normal life’ we found ourselves in a reality that very few can understand.  Our lives now are so different, that it’s hard not to feel isolated.  Everything that mattered before doesn’t now and everything that didn’t matter before matters now.  It’s an upside down shake up; that’s the only way to describe it.  Yet, reality calls; life for everyone else goes on as it did before.  And so, we wander around; the aliens amongst you. 

Lindy will make several trips to The University of Michigan in May for various scans and we’ll be meeting with her doctor.  We’ll evaluate the progression of the cancer in her lungs and what to do next.  Please pray for wisdom that we make the appropriate decisions for treatment.  It’s an uneasy/high anxiety time for our family.  

A special thank you to Pastor Scott VanOostendorp from First Reformed Church – Zeeland and Diane Wiersma LMSW, ACSW for walking with us and helping us sort everything out.   We could not do it without you and your council.

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On the last day of the retreat, we had a moving service led by the Deric and Kristen Milligan, founders of Inheritance of Hope. Kristen has been battling stage IV cancer for nearly seven years. She’s nearing the end of her journey on earth, but she was able to travel to meet with the group the last day. What amazing people. At the end of her talk, she played a video that moved everyone in the room. There was not a dry eye in the house.

Some of you may have heard the story of Dick and Rick Hoyt. They’re a unique father and son team who participate in triathalons. All I can say is watch this short video. This is a beautiful/perfectly fitting picture of how God is with us even when our bodies are broken and frail. We all go through the finish line at different times, but our Father is right there with us as we finish.

Lindy undergoes another stereotactic radiosurgery a.k.a. “Gamma Knife” brain surgery at the University of Michigan Hospital tomorrow. Please pray for peace for her and that the cancer in her brain can be stopped. Join the 24 Hours of prayer for her here.

We were blessed to be able to travel to the Florida for a week of rest mid-January. The memories are too many to list, here’s a short photo journal.

Lindy’s on a short hiatus from treatment and will be going back for more scans the end of January.  We’ll decide what to do after that.  For now, Lindy’s doctor advised her to “do those things that she’s always wanted to” since her health will only deteriorate.

Difficult words to hear, but yet good to know we need to seize this time together. It’s like getting a “present of the present” – living each day as they come.  How many people can actually do this? 

We booked a trip to Florida and have made arrangements to rent a beautiful house on the ocean. Lindy made a special video and shared it with the kids this past Saturday.  They were so excited – it was so cool.  The twins will meet Mickey Mouse at Disney for the first time and Lindy will be able to experience that joy with them.  I’m happy that we can do this together – as a family. 

Thank you for your continued prayers and gestures of love.

For me, it’s like having to play a football game with my star quarterback injured and on the bench. I’m out on the field of life trying to keep the ball in the air and everyone moving to the goal line. Meanwhile, life situations and the devil are trying to sack me. I can’t afford to get sacked. I have to keep life going for the family. I must make life as normal as possible for the kids despite extraordinary circumstances. Those that have gone through chemotherapy or had a loved one go through it will understand what I mean. Those that have not, you can take my word for it; chemo royally sucks for everyone involved.

Lindy is feeling progressively worse as the chemo drugs build up in her system. Normal activities are exhausting and overwhelming. She has about two “descent” days a week, the rest are a challenge to get through. If the cancer doesn’t kill you the chemo will. It’s tough to see her like this, but it also lends hope that the drugs are doing something. Pain makes progress (I heard this saying once). Our prayer is that the experimental chemo drug will rid the cancer from her brain and lungs. We should find out if the trial is working the week of Thanksgiving when she has the full scans done.

Our eight year old is processing everything that’s going on around her.
I hate that we have to talk about this; it’s not fair for a little girl to worry about these things.

Right before bed the other night:

Brooklyn: “Is mommy going to die?”

Me: {Stomach drop and pause} “…We all die sometime honey, only God knows when He is going to take us.”

Brooklyn: “I don’t want her to die, I need my mommy.”

Me: “I know honey; I need your mommy too.”

Brooklyn: “Well if God takes mommy I’ll be real mad at Him.”

Me: {Pause} “…Mommy is fighting her hardest to stay with us” “Try to go to sleep and not think about it.”