Finding Our Way Out

The hardest thing about writing is finding the words to convey the full weight of emotions we experience as we find our way through this mess. Words like sad, broken, and hard don't work anymore. It has been 6 months since we found out about Ava's diagnosis. Time is cruel. It doesn't cater to anyone. It flies when you need it to slow down. And it drags when you really need it move.

We seem to have run out of words because it's the same thing said over and over again. But how is it that it has not gotten easier to live this trend of (happily) mundane moments riddled by every deep seed of grief you can imagine? 

I guess the easiest way to get by is to routinely forget that we are living a nightmare. It's a terrible escapist mentality that eventually spirals down toward depression and then a lack of desire to live even the moments that are presently available. I find it difficult to clean a room, organize a shelf, unpack after a hospital run. Because it all seems so irrelevant, so insignificant.

I confess, I am in a depression deeper than I've ever known. The facade I keep is that we are going at this great, that we can get 'er done, that we can beat this darn cancer. But, the reality is, we are worn out by it. The very thought of this disease makes us nauseous. It has spared no one in my circle of family and friends. We are beaten down by it, drowning in our own private tears, freaked out of our minds that we could lose such a precious life...

I'm also scared to show this weakness because what will become of everyone who is rooting for us, who is looking for a victory story, for motivation, for inspiration. It's time to reveal that there is nothing to look at here. We are just a family trying to take in breaths amidst the soul sucking reality of living in the cancer world. 

But there is this thread of hope that I have to mention because, really, any amount of peace, of sanity, of beauty left comes from something far beyond myself: the hope of heaven, the truth of scripture, the love of God. These are anchors that dare not move us too far from shore. We daily depend on it, all of it, to crawl through another day and another battle and another disappointment with Ava's fight against Leukemia. 

Guys, seeing my daughter in pain has made me realize how absolutely beautiful that body was that lay broken on the cross 2000 years ago and how insanely ridiculous God's redemption plan for us was. If this world is temporary, only lasting a mere 90 years at best, I can not wait to live out eternity with my girl in a place where we can forever together worship the God that loved us enough to give up his own son. Even if no one can understand, He totally gets the searing pain of seeing your child laid out, defeated, and dying. And that is all the comfort I need for tonight. This is the beacon of light that finds me and leads me out of the darkness. 


"That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18