True Beauty

 “That wasn’t a Bible study you led…it was an Ellen White Study.”  Intrigued by the blunt honesty of a cute stranger, I said what anybody in their right mind would have said.  “Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“You said we were going to study the Bible, and we just read quotes from Ellen White.”  Her brow furrowed veiling her earnest brown eyes.

She was new on campus and those sweet Southern brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, and burned with fire.  What kept her on my mind was that she was more concerned about finding truth, than what I thought about her.   She was cute for sure, but lots of girls were cute.  Actually most girls seemed consumed with it, and little else.  I was looking for something different, and I couldn’t get her off my mind! 

That first conversation burgeoned into many more, and it wasn’t long before we found ourselves talking just about everywhere – walking on the track, sitting in a tree, by the river, in empty music rooms.  She was just so easy to talk to!!  We shared a love of the outdoors, camping, God, traditional family values, and service.  I can still feel the nostalgia of those balmy Berrien walks.

I was quite taken with this Southern Belle.  She had this beautiful rich brown hair with auburn highlights.  It dazzled so bright in the sun that you could look at nothing else.  At least I couldn’t.  It was thick and wavy, and she hid behind it like a buried treasure.  She smiled easily with a guarded sparkle in her pretty eyes, daring only the bravest man to try and get close.  It just so happened, that there was a long line of them.  I felt pity for them, even though I wasn’t much better off….yet.

Then the perfect opportunity presented itself – she didn’t have a car, but wanted to surprise her mom for her birthday.  Yee-Haw!!  Listen all you young men who are trying to convince a young lady that she wants to spend her life with you – if you have a chance to drive 10 hours one way to surprise her mother for her birthday, DO IT!!!! 

Whew!!  After that I was in…well…at least with her mom.  It only took three more years to get in with her.

Then the day came that I had been longing for – February 3, 2002.  We assembled, she looked so beautiful all pure and white – it only took an hour, and that beautiful treasure called Shallena Russell became my wife.

I was so excited, I thought I was done!  That is because I was stupid.  Now that’s a word my parents taught me not to use, but I don’t know what other word I could put there.  Not intentionally stupid of course (which only happens to a few special people), but unintentionally stupid (which happens to just about all young men when they are first married – bless you if you don’t know what I am talking about).  I cringe as I consider the arrogance of my youth.  I knew nothing about love.  Now, 19 years later, I may have learned 1/8 of an inch about the love mile, but then I thought I knew the whole thing.  She stuck with me, believed in me, honestly confronted me, and always supported me. 

We moved through the stages of life – Medical School, Residency, babies, a post at a mission hospital in Malawi, and what looked like the dreams of life coming true.  Then came the rude awakening – an unexpected diagnosis of breast cancer. 

Fortunately, the treatment seemed pretty simple and straightforward, and on the surgeon’s good word, we believed a surgery that removed her breasts would solve the problem once and for all.

Unfortunately, it did not.  A recurrence caught us off guard one week after our third baby was born, and within a few days we received the diagnosis – stage IV cancer.

Well, that was almost five years ago now.  I can’t explain to you what four and a half years of metastatic cancer treatment involves.  For the majority of the time she has been on chemotherapy.  Her hair has fallen out three times, her nails have been eroded, her skin has suffered, and she has perennial bruises on her body.  A port-o-cath sits on her upper left chest, and on bad days you can see the sleepless nights, nausea, diarrhea, pain, and fatigue written all around those beautiful brown eyes.

She doesn’t think she is beautiful anymore.  Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Shallena is more beautiful today than she has ever been.  Cancer and its treatment – tempered by the grace of God - have only made her beauty shine brighter.  The beauty of dedication to her family to the point of self-sacrifice.  The beauty of living generously.  The beauty of looking death square in the face and choosing faith.  The beauty of guarding hope in the middle of despair.  The beauty of gratitude when it could be so easy to complain.  The beauty of loving Jesus more and more each day.  The beauty of forgiveness freely given. 

We still love talking together, and we continue to share our love of the outdoors, camping, God, traditional family values, and service.  We treasure each day, and on this, her 44^th birthday, I am so grateful to God for sharing with me this True Beauty.  I love you, Shallena.  You are so beautiful.

Being Known

I almost didn't go. Jamie looked at me and said, "You don't have to go. It's okay. You've got the perfect excuse." Post-chemo day 8, my toughest. "No, I need to go," I replied. "At this point it wouldn't be good to cancel." This would be fun, anyway. We're all friends, after all. We loaded into the van, drove an hour to the meeting place. The kids ran to join their friends and the adults talked.

During the course of conversation, something changed, and I missed it. As we drove home I thought, "Wait, what just happened?" I felt confused and hurt. I thought a budding friendship had great potential but now I wasn't so sure. Texting the next morning to discuss the problem didn't help. I wrote in my prayer journal, but not about that, and went outside to join my family in the morning sun.

I did not realize what happened next until the day was over.

A friend I haven't heard from in a long time called and talked.

The farrier came over soon after. Abruptly he looked at me. "You know most all of us believe in a higher power?" I nodded. "Well", he said, "I think you're going be okay. I don't know why, I just feel it. You're going to be okay."

Then more long time friends called. While on the phone with them a friend stopped by for a chat.

More friends called. More friends stopped by. Finally, at the end of the day friends drove up to our house. "Five meals, one for each day of the next week." Out came gourmet food, filling my refrigerator. They even stopped by the grocery store to pick up produce for us! I was so surprised I'm sure I sounded unintelligent as I tried to thank them.

"I have not had a day like that since we were in Malawi--so many visitors and callers in one day!" I thought as I entered our house for the evening.

Exhausted, I put the children to bed. As I crawled under my covers, I sat up.

"Wait! What just happened?!"

Wonder filled me as I realized that God noticed that I hurt from my friend. He saw it, and knowing that I don't always catch things quickly, He sent so many friends in one day that I had to recognize that it was Him. He was that close to me. He sees and He cares! I was kind of blown over at the thought. Of course, I know this in my brain, but Sunday, I experienced it in real time!

There are so many prayers that I ask God to answer. He answered a prayer I didn't even know how to pray, just to let me know that He is aware of me. I am not forgotten. He sees and knows. Has He answered all of my requests? Not to my knowledge. But once I realize how close He is, it suddenly doesn't matter anymore. Once I really know that He is paying attention to my life, to me, I can trust Him more. I'm no longer alone. I'm not fighting a one-woman battle.

1 You have searched me, Lord,
    and You know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
    You perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
    You are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
    You, Lord, know it completely. Psalm 139:1-4

That is intimate knowing! God knows you, He is very close to you, and He knows the deep desires of your heart. You are not alone! Turn to Him. He longs to comfort you today.

Will she treat him gently?

I zip up my little boy's pajamas. His trusting hazel eyes look into my brown ones. His innocent lips speak my favorite name, "Mommy." As I caress his beautiful face between my two hands, all the tenderness of this little man-boy, this precious treasure, overwhelms me and tears I can't control begin to flow. My mind flashes ahead to the woman he will one day give his heart to, unite his life with, and I wonder, "Will she treat him gently?"

Will she see beneath the strong exterior that men wear to the loving little boy inside, who just wants to be loved? When the world demands he be strong despite what comes, will she treat him gently?

When he comes home from work grouchy, having had a tough day, will she count to ten, take a deep breath, kiss his cheek and tell him that she's glad that he's home? Will she allow him to have a bad day? Will she treat him gently?

When he leaves his clothes all over the floor, or right next to the laundry hamper, will she gripe at him or will she consider that he doesn't mean to be inconsiderate? His mind was already focusing on his work day. Will she treat him gently?

Will she stop to consider all he does for her and his children, to provide, to maintain the vehicles and house, to give them as much as he can of what they ask for? Will she realize that he gives himself for his family? When he falls asleep from exhaustion while she's talking to him, will she turn off the light and let him sleep, knowing they can talk in the morning? Will she treat him gently?

Will she ever look at him and realize that one day he was a precious little boy, and all he wanted was his mommy's love and his daddy's approval? Will she be able to imagine that one day he was laying on his mommy's bed while his mommy cupped her hands around his tiny, vulnerable and pure face, and prayed with all her heart that he would choose someone who would treat him gently?

Right then my husband walks out of the closet after getting dressed for the work day, handsome and strong. His tender blue-eyed gaze warms me to my very soul, and makes me feel contented and happy. I thought, do I treat him gently? 

When he's grouchy, do I forgive him or react in kind? Do I allow him to have a bad day? Do I treat him gently? 

When he wants to work all day outside on the day I've been hoping he'd help me accomplish some tasks inside the house, do I appreciate what he does, realizing that he is doing his best to maintain our home even if we have different ideas about what to do first? Do I treat him gently?

When he wants to talk and talk about work, do I listen with all my heart or do I tell him what to do? Do I treat him gently?

When we disagree about how to approach a situation with the children, do I become angry or realize that he has a valid point as their father? Do I treat him gently?

When he's telling me again that we need to curtail our spending and stick to the budget, do I bristle up thinking that he's mad at me or controlling me? Or do I realize that he works diligently to provide for us and our future, and I can show that I appreciate and respect that by doing to my best to eliminate unnecessary spending? Do I treat him gently?

Do I look at those loving blue eyes and imagine that he was once a little boy laying on his mommy's bed while she zipped his pjs, looking up into her blue eyes with complete trust and love? And that maybe, just maybe, she prayed that whomever he chose to marry would treat him gently?

Weeping in broken-hearted remorse, I pray, "Oh God, please give me the grace to treat my husband and sons and daughter gently, so they may learn to treat others gently, too."

Honestly Speaking

A friend sent me some homemade split pea soup (one of my favorites) with this written on the package: "Disappointments are His appointments! Change the D for an H!" 

November 25 will mark three and half years since I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. Until August, I have remained positive in general, hoping all things, believing all things are possible.

Since then I have struggled. Chemo always makes me feel depressed, so I expected that. This particular chemo seems to magnify that feeling. Worse than chemo are the head symptoms. They overwhelm me sometimes, and they have been increasing. We want so many things.

1. To make it through Thanksgiving and Christmas without the symptoms increasing dramatically, so that we don't need to begin a new treatment during this time. From this position, that is looking unlikely unless God intervenes.

2. I want to be a "present" mother and wife, not distracted by my symptoms. This is a continuous daily struggle.

3. And as you know, with every ounce of me, I want to be the mother to my children until they are grown, and longer, if God gives it to us.

I plead with God: 

"There are so many motherless children. Why should there be more?" 

"Who will praise you from the grave?"

"Lord save me, I perish!"

"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

"Father in heaven, it hurts terribly to have my beautiful husband and children deal with chronic worry because of me." 

"I know You are able to heal me. You gave everything to heal me. I don't deserve what so many others haven't received, and I can do nothing but ask. Please heal me. My only hope is You." 

"Dear God, please show me what to do next. I need guidance. I'm not wise enough to know for myself, and no one on earth can "cure" this disease. Please lead us."

"Father in heaven, Creator of heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in therm, why has it been so long? Three and a half years is not long to you, but it is to us. Lord, I'm so weary. Please give me strength. Please heal my brain. Enable me to remember my children."

"Father God in heaven, how will Jamie be both daddy and mommy to our two boys and one daughter while he also has to work?"

"God, I think I am the best option to be my children's mommy--You gave them to me! But You know more than I do. Please hold my children and Jamie close to Your heart."

"Lord, You know that so many people believe that You will heal me. So many are praying. May this be a testimony of Your power, whatever is best."

"God, please give me Your Holy Spirit, that if I must leave my children, I leave them with an example of faith, hope, and love. And if you give me more time on this earth, I can teach them to trust You more, with wisdom that You give me."

"Dear God, I surrender again, for the thousandth time, my need to be in control. I cannot control this. I'm so discouraged that anything will. I still know and believe that You can heal me if You are willing."

Then I think of how He has given me three and a half years, and Jamie and I are so grateful. Oncologists are moving towards treating this as a chronic disease, which is encouraging. I remember all you who pray for us, help us, and wish us so much good will and healing. I read of how Jesus lived just like you and me, and how He endured three and a half years of challenges and hardships--then He died. He died for your healing and for mine. "By His stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5.) It cost Him everything to heal you and me, and He wants us to accept the gift of life from His hands. His will is abundantly clear. When He was on this earth, He healed entire villages until no one was left ill. Not one person! Why this doesn't happen as much now I cannot say. 

We are told that the prayer of faith will save the sick. Thank you so very much for praying for our family, for me, for my husband who gives me so much love, and our treasured children. Right now they are sitting with me at the fireplace, writing and drawing their own stories. Such precious time! I pray this moment remains in their minds and in mine, forever.

"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned , they will be forgiven." James 5:15. What hope! What promise!

The March of the Kingdom

This is a post that I wrote on 7/26/19 - over a month ago when things weren't looking so good.  I didn't post it then because I didn't want to discourage anybody with our situation.  However, now that Shallena is responding to her treatment,  I thought it may be encouraging to share.  Happy Sabbath everybody!

Original post: 

"Call me..."

It is one of those unnerving moments when you can't find the door fast enough.

"What is it sweetie?" 

"They said it has spread to my brain, that there is pressure and bleeding, and that I have to go to the ER now."

The news that came about a month ago was not entirely unexpected, but it was characteristically more dramatic than we had hoped.  Shallena had been feeling concerning symptoms for several weeks, and when they didn't  resolve we knew something was wrong.  First blurry vision, then a bad headache, and more recently she had been losing the ability to walk.  

There have been some uplifts in our three year cancer journey, but from a disease progression standpoint it has mostly been down.  Different chemotherapy treatments have staved off the tumors  for a few months, but when they stop working, the cancer seems to come back more ravenous than before, and with each worsening cycle comes the threat of disability and death.  We have tried countless "alternative" treatments as well with similar unsatisfactory results.  It is easy to think this is a losing battle when we look at what cancer is doing right now. 

But thankfully there is another reality.  I almost said something that sounded voluntary like another "perspective" or "paradigm", but this is so overpowering that it is not really even a choice to acknowledge it.  It is what I call the "march of the kingdom".  

While with blurry eyes I have watched my wife's physical health deteriorate over the last couple months, there has been a countercurrent.   I think it started about three months ago when one groggy night (which we have had a lot of recently), she said to me, "Jesus is my Savior".  Shallena has dedicated her life to Jesus from a young age, and together we have no higher joy and calling than to follow Him, but this was a new and deeper experience.  The Savior had come closer and touched her heart in a more personal sense than before, and it gave us both a heaven sent dose of much needed joy and peace. 

Then a few weeks later Shallena described how during a walk one day, God lifted off her shoulders pain and regrets that she had carried for decades.  She had pled for them to be taken before, but now they were.  Healing, forgiveness, and heaven-sent freedom!  

More recently while reading inspiration, God has spoken straight to her heart from John 14, the Psalms, and the blessings in Deuteronomy.  Actually, the faithfulness of God as documented in the Bible has become her lifeblood, and she is visibly animated by the account of His goodness.  Even though at times with severe headaches and blurry vision it has been hard to read, she consistently endures the struggle, because it feeds her soul.  

I think from the beginning of our unexpected cancer story, we have tried to find the blessings and silver linings.  But now, it's like Shallena isn't trying anymore.  She doesn't have to.  God has been moving on her spirit in such a gentle but persuasive way that her gratitude is reflexive and contagious.  

Even while she has endured brain surgery, piles of drugs, and the somewhat depressing options for further treatment, the love of God has overpowered her.  (See "He loves me" post from 7/11).

This makes me think of what Paul says in 1 Cor 4:16: "That is why we never give up.  Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day." (NLT).  

And so, even while it could be easy to be discouraged with our situation (and at times we are), it is also difficult for me to not be taken with the patient protracted tsunami of grace that God is washing over our family during this time.  His kingdom is marching on, and we can't do anything other than join in the celebration with grateful tears.  Please don't understand me to say that we have given up hope that Shallena can be healed.  Not at all!  Paradoxically, our hope has never been more settled.  But the healing of the spirit - so evident over the last few months - is the signature of the Great Physician fast at work, steadily doing those miracles for which we have been praying.  I also expect she will be putting those bright pink running shoes back on soon!

Thank you to all those walking this road with us.  Thank you for standing with us, kneeling with us, weeping with us, breaking with us, and loving us.  I could write a whole other blog about the way God's grace has reached out and soothed our wounds through the kindness of family, friends, and strangers who have become some of our dearest traveling companions.  Lastly, thank you tonight for celebrating the march of the Kingdom of Heaven with us.  We pray that His kingdom is marching forward in you too.

"God's kingdom isn't something you can see...God's kingdom is here with you." Luke 17:20,21 CEV.

Reason

I’ve thought it, haven’t you? When you hear about someone with a terrible diagnosis, it’s natural to think, “Oh how sad! Unless they have a miracle, they’re dying.”

If the sick person is a friend or acquaintance, you may say something to them like, “I’m praying God’s will be done.” Or you talk to someone else about that person and say, “If it’s God’s will for them to get well….” If the person who is sick is a good friend, sometimes entirely by accident you might use an if-then statement, “If you get well, then… .” When the person is a family member, you may lay on the “if”, such as, “IF you get well, then… .”

Sometimes you think it’s your duty to make sure the person realizes they have a mortal illness.

But guess what? Most likely that person knows. They’ve had time to think about it even if they haven’t had much time. The positivity and hope you see in the person is not denial, it’s a hope born of strength beyond, and is a result of crawling through a very dark, claustrophobic tunnel and coming through the other side. Does that mean the diagnosis has changed? Not necessarily. The person has changed. 

Let’s get personal. Many people have told me that I’m strong. The strength any of you may attribute to me is not from within me naturally. I’ve spent my times in lamentation and desperation, in intense agony for my children and my husband. God gives me strength, knowing that people are praying for me gives me strength, and each of you who help carry our load and let me rest—that gives me strength.

The fact is that when I die, I no longer struggle, but my family will hurt living life without me. I’ve mourned a potential future for my family without their wife and mommy. I’ve mourned the carefree innocence my children have lost. Jamie and I have had to face the reality of our mortality at an age when most people are still focused on competing for success.  I have surrendered my life and my family to God. He does not change, His strength is given to me in my weakness, and I have confidence that He will take care of my family even if I don’t get to anymore. He IS love. Knowing that gives me strength to face the future. Even more, it helps me to not worry about the future, but to live today. Today I am alive! Today I’m so very grateful to be with my family! Today is a gift from God, and truly, that’s all you have, too.

So you see, I have to live. I can’t let my family go through that hurt. That’s not denial, that’s reason.

Romans 5:3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

He Loves Me

“Sweetheart, I need to tell you something.” 

Jamie’s voice was gentle as he knelt on the floor beside where I was lying on the bed.

“I saw the MRI report that was done after your surgery. The next largest tumor is 2.5 cm, and it’s in your cerebellum. It's inoperable...”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“...I wish they told us that in the hospital.”

Two hot tears dropped onto my pillow.

Silence.

Sobbingly I said, “I didn’t know life would be like this.”

He tenderly rubbed my cheek.

“It’s so hard, Jamie. I’m glad I didn’t know in advance, though.”

He put his head down on the bed. There we bowed before God, too weak to think thoughts or pray.

Then something hurtled into my heart. Deeply I felt it penetrate.

God loves me.

A conviction I’ve never known before.

He loves me.

The tears fall freely now.

This road could get more difficult. We need your prayers and faith to carry us even now, as the symptoms daily increase. We need the wisdom God promises to know what to do next. We need peace and freedom from fear as we endure this fiery trial. But God loves me. And Jamie. And my precious children Jedidiah, Abigail, and Caleb. And you. He is with you and me always, to the very end. “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Because He can’t. He can’t take us hurting. He can’t let us go through it alone.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me... .”Ps 23:4

Naked

Tough. Strong. Brave. Courageous. I’ve got this. I can handle it, after all, I have a very good life. I have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for myself.

And then…

Intimacy.

I stand undressed before my husband. He hugs me as insubordinate tears flood my eyes. Does he realize that I don’t want this, yet I desperately need this? Subconsciously I avoid intimacy with him. It’s too painful, it releases bulging emotions that I try to keep zippered shut. Emotions so strong I can’t speak, the sobbing is so hard, so deep.

Fear. I feel fear. Fear of what I want with all my heart. Fear despite our desperate precautions, because pregnancy could mean death for me, or our baby, or both.

I look down at my swollen body, twenty-five pounds heavier now than before chemo and steroids began pulsing through my veins. My face is shaped like the moon. Curves are where straights should be. Scars litter my abdomen. Sweet round breasts with soft nipples are replaced with long jagged indentations. I feel so unfeminine, so unattractive, so undesirable. Ashamed.

Choking, I attempt to explain to Jamie, but he stops me.

“Sweetheart, I want you. These scars are our scars; monuments of what we’ve been through together. I love you, and…

Baby, you still light my fire!”

He loves me. He has seen my vulnerability, sensed my insecurity, and covered my shame with his acceptance and love. He lives his vows with integrity, to love me in sickness and in health. We both grow stronger because of his love.

Maybe you don’t have cancer, but most of us don’t get through life without hurt. We put on our game faces, convinced that we have ourselves and our lives under control, trying to deny the naked truth that we are weak, limited, vulnerable. Things happen that we cannot control. Maybe you lose a house or a loved one to a wildfire or earthquake. Maybe your spouse or significant other walks away and never looks back. Maybe indescribable evil hurts you, or worse—your child. Maybe you’ve made choices that hurt yourself or others, and you feel ashamed. Maybe you’ve decided that God doesn’t exist, and just when you’re desperate you cry out to Him, and then you feel ashamed again. He doesn’t worry about that. He has made a commitment to love you in sickness and in health, and He has already died to show you that He will keep His word to you at all costs. It is His joy to cover your shame with His love! God loves you more than you can comprehend, and He wants you.

"'Later I passed by, and when I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your naked body. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign LORD, and you became mine.” Ezekiel 16:8

Side Effects, from the experience of a patient

Side effects. You all know about them. You can read a generic list. But how does that look, really? Let’s go in the order that this patient feels them after the infusion.

First is the pain: headaches, body aches, joint pains like I’m old, and muscle pains. I’m talking charlie-horse in any part of the body at any time day or night. I walked two miles one day—which doesn’t seem like much but right now is huge—and when I got home my muscles all tightened at once and I had to crawl up the stairs to my room. Thankfully it ended there and I was able to carry the full hamper of dirty laundry downstairs and do what we moms do without ceasing.

Next is insomnia. Not good when one has small children. Who also don’t sleep all through the night. So maybe it works.

Nausea at the most inconvenient times. Constipation. Like can-anyone-do-a-colonic kind of constipation. Like your prescription anti-constipation medication isn’t working.

Then the steroid kicks in, and it’s aggression. I mean like if-anyone-is-hurting-my-little-sister-I’ll-fly-to-her-state-and-beat-them-with-my-broom-right-now kind of aggression. The kind of aggression that makes my husband say to my kids, “You know Mommy just had steroids, I’d do what she says.” Like the kind that makes me lose all I’ve gained in my effort toward patience with my children’s whining and my husband’s stubbornness. Yeah, it’s not pretty. But on a good note, I can accomplish a lot!

Rash! An unsightly, painful rash on my face (which looks a lot like acne but isn’t), and sometimes cold sores on my lips. A constant rash on my chest and back. The back rash is so itchy that it drives me to distraction and sometimes I unintentionally scratch it until it bleeds. Thankfully it's turtleneck time of year!

Vision. I’ve always had excellent vision. Before we went to Malawi in 2012, both eyes measured 20/15. Now I have to hold my books out at arm’s length to even begin to decipher what those letters are.

Along with joint and muscle pain is a lack of coordination. My son's Pogo Stick? Bad idea. I’m pretty much limited to activities that keep my feet on the ground, or swimming. Thankfully there are a lot of options!

Nosebleeds, and large bruises.

Reflux, like do-they-make-fire-extinguishers-for-throats kind of reflux.

Runny nose, ears that painfully pop driving up and down the mountain. Every time.

How could I forget exhaustion? I do most everything about half speed.

Hair thinning, nail ruining, skin aging.

Bloating!

Weight gain (for me) because of the large amounts of steroids, and because the chemo has caused me to develop hypothyroidism.

Depression and anxiety. It keeps me awake at night, solving problems of how to protect or evacuate my children in the event of a natural disaster, or other anxious thoughts. It always lifts on day 11 of my 21 day cycle, just like clockwork.

What is the most difficult, though, is what’s called “chemo brain.” I had a conversation with an acquaintance that we had not seen for several years. He lives in another part of the country, and was in California for a conference. His name is Alex, his first child is Daniel, and he has a much younger daughter. Another acquaintance that we know is also Alex, also has a first child named Daniel, and has a much younger daughter. While both are from the same country outside of the states, Alex and Alex look very different! When speaking to Alex, I confused him with Alex, and asked about Alex’s wife when I meant Alex’s wife, and so you see, it was very confusing. It wasn’t until I said, “So Daniel is about Jedidiah’s age now?” that I realized that I was speaking to Alex and not to Alex. Oh dear. It was really quite difficult, and I just couldn’t pull it together. I briefly thought to tell him that remembering has become a challenge since I’ve been on chemo, but I didn’t for two reasons. 1. In the off chance that he doesn’t know, I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me or to feel uncomfortable, and 2. I would then feel obligated to explain to nearly everyone with whom I have a conversation, because it happens all the time.

This is how tough it is. Yesterday Jamie was hanging some pictures for me while I was preparing supper. I saw the salt shaker was empty and went into the pantry to get the refill salt. I opened the door, stepped in and right at that very moment Jamie chose to ask, “Hey, can you come look at this for a minute?” I said, “Um, sure, just a minute” as if I were doing something. But I wasn’t, because just like that I had no idea why I had walked into the pantry. I stood there, thinking, stretching my brain until my head literally hurt, and just when I was sure I’d pull a muscle, I remembered, “Salt!” I grabbed it from right in front of me, put it on the counter, and went to look at the picture.

New Fight Song

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you for your prayers. If we ever needed them before, we need them now.

I'm sitting here with the drug Kadcyla dripping into a port in my chest, going through my internal jugular vein, into my heart, and from there to my body. In an attempt to gain the upperhand on the cancer growing inside me. In an attempt to remain on this earth longer to be the wife I want to be to Jamie, and to be with and for my children as they grow.

We met with the oncologist this morning. She gave us good and bad news. The good news is that the Kadcyla has rendered the nine centimeter liver mass inactive, as well as several smaller masses.

The bad news is that there are several new small tumors in the liver, a different large tumor has grown to seven centimeters, and the lung tumor has grown. My oncologist said that usually cancers don't gain, but they lose specific receptors. In this case, my cancer was already estrogen and progesterone negative, and HER 2 positive, so her suspicion is that this clone dropped the HER 2, making it triple negative. She also said that these resistant clones usually develop after a person has gone through multiple lines of chemotherapy, and for some reason the cancer in my body has developed a clone earlier than is expected or common.

I can tell her the reason. I know, and have known from the beginning of this diagnosis, even when it was Stage 0 five years ago, causing us to leave Malawi the first time. "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." Ephesians 6:12 This battle is not about me, and it is bigger than me. I do not have the evidence of victory in my body, but I am ready to speak. I am ready, by God's grace, to do what He wants me to do. With His power, and His help.

Today they drew my blood for genetic testing, and a liver biopsy follows in about 10-12 days. My next infusion on November 12 will be a different chemo combination. My oncologist told us that results of a phase three trial of a new immunotherapy drug for TNBC (triple negative breast caner) were published yesterday. It is expected to have FDA approval by the end of the year.

I am not despondent, though the temptation is there. We talk too much of the power of evil, too much of things that hurt. That gives them more power in our lives--minds, bodies, relationships. Jesus told us, because somehow we forget, "In this world you will have trouble." John 16:33 He wasn't trying to scare people. He knows what can happen down here. Life can be tough; it can hurt beyond words. He doesn't want it to be that way more than we don't want it that way. "But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33 Praise God for the victory! Let us speak of His love, His promises, and the hope we have in HIm, for by His stripes we are healed. By the pain He endured in this world, we can be whole. Let us choose wisely what we let ourselves think and speak. I choose to sing the mighty power of God! He is the one who gives me life.

Please, friends, never turn your back on the only One who can help you in your time of deepest need, the One who is with you through the hurt. It makes no sense. He didn't escape pain while He was here; you can't expect to either.

Please pray for me to do all that I can to help my body fight this, to focus, to persevere, to not give up! This is the truest fight for my life I have faced, and I want to give it the best I've got in me. With God, all things are possible!

We love and appreciate you all very much, more than you know! We thank God for each of you in our lives. Your prayers and support strengthen us. Thank you.

Not Afraid

“I am not afraid to die from cancer” said my beautiful, young, healthy wife.  Recent scans and discussions with oncologists had brought one of these discussions back around, “I just worry about my children”. 

It has been just over two years since Shallena was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer.  A diagnosis that changed our home, our job, our future, our security, our finances…pretty much everything in the material world.  While at different steps we have been given very different prognoses – from months to decades – one thing was clear: its worse now than it has ever been before.  While the facts forced our mortality to weigh upon us, the reality of our situation felt different this time. 

There have been many bumps in this road.  The first bump came after her first diagnosis of breast cancer in 2013.   It scared us more than the medical community thought it should have, as it was “only DCIS”—breast cancer stage 0.  We eventually recovered, and surgery gave us another chance at life. Then the second bump came one week after our baby Caleb was born – breast cancer stage 4 with liver metastases.  This was a big bump because it meant our life as we loved it would have to change.  We gave up (very unwillingly) our mission, our home, our pets, etc…and moved back to the United States.  The third bump was when chemotherapy stopped working.  We decided for a “chemo holiday”, but we were really not inclined to go back to toxic treatment as it had been very hard on Shallena, and had destroyed her quality of life.  The last, but most recent bump was a few weeks ago when we learned that the cancer had come back more aggressive than ever, with large metastases in the liver which were already causing dysfunction. 

Each bump brings its own cycle.  We feel sad, discouraged, we start to reorganize, make a plan, and then go forward with hope.  Its like riding a roller coaster, which is not really my thing. 

As we have talked together during this time of reprocessing, a few common themes have crystallized for us:

1.        We have been blessed.  I could not list in 50 pages the number of blessings that we have received going through this experience.  From new friends, to new mentors, to prayer partners, a new job with new colleagues, a new house, new pets….God has been faithful to us and while we would not wish this situation on friend nor foe, we have been blessed through it.  Thank you to so many of you who have been part of that blessing.  We miss our mission in Malawi, but we accept this transition with all the opportunities that have come with it.

2.       The power of death has been broken.   The discussions between my wife and I are different these days – as you may expect.  The other night she told me, “I’m not afraid to die -- I will just go to sleep until Jesus wakes me up”.   It was simply spoken, but when the truth like this is spoken by the favorite person in your life, it has a different kind of power.  For me it was a reminder that as a Christian my eggs cannot all be in this basket I call planet earth.  If we are part of that long lineage of the faithful, then we are “pilgrims and strangers on the earth” Hebrews 11:13, looking for a better land.  I fear that in a land of relative security and plenteous material wealth, it is easy to forget that this fallen world is not home.  At times – times when we least expect it – God allows the unthinkable to help remind us that heaven is where we belong.  I can tell you today, we’ve never had more eggs in the heaven basket, and it is a blessing.  I thank God from the bottom of my heart.

3.       No fear.  Part of one of my most recent blessings was to spend a week in Michigan with a group of returning missionaries.  I felt the connection from the start.  It will always be a special event in our memory.  We shared our stories of miracles, providential leading, unresolved conflict, and personal pain.  Every missionary has that list.  One day I was eating lunch with some new friends, and as we shared our stories I felt a sense of God’s presence.  One of them was a pastor who had been working in the Middle East.  He ultimately had to return home because of a malignancy which had caused the loss of a limb.  The other one was a pastor who had actually gone to the mission field (in Central America) at the same time as us.  His wife was suffering with a neurodegenerative disease which has left her in a wheelchair and completely dependent on others to care for her.  There we sat –  three broken and crippled missionary families that had to come home due to unexpected serious health conditions – on the outside looking very much like the enemy was winning.   But on the inside….I’ll never forget how I felt on the inside as we all shared our mutual experience.  It had been hard, and we all had uncertainties about our future on earth, but we were all gaining a depth of peace that could not be challenged by the unexpected chaos of this world.  In some way for each of us, it had already happened.  Despite the difficulties, loss, and insecure earthly future -- together we were waiting for God to do exactly what He has promised and work all this together for good.

I’m not going to say that we thank God every day when we are living in the details of this experience, but overall – when we step back and look at the trajectory of our lives – we thank God for what He has done in these experiences.  We are walking through the valley of the shadow of death – but it is here that we get saved and God teaches us to fear no evil.  I fully believe that when I stand face to face with my Savior, that I will thank Him for the valley of the shadow of death.  He is teaching me to fear no evil. 

4.       Two Years.   I can’t count on one hand the number of times in the last several weeks that Shallena and I have been overcome with gratitude for the last two years we have had together.  You may know that two years is the average life expectancy for a woman diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer, and so by now out of 100 women who had been diagnosed with her problem, fifty would not still be alive.  What can we say?  We have traveled the United States seeing friends and family.  Shallena has been a wife and a mother, and for most of the time (except the six months on chemotherapy), she has felt, looked, and acted very healthy.  Many of you have told me how good she looks, and I couldn't agree more!!  We are so grateful for that time, and we are very aware that it could have been different.  We are hoping for more miracles, and at least 20 x 2 more years, but we also realize that we cannot only ask and take from the hand of God.  We also have to come back and say thank you.  Thank you, Lord for the wonderful last two years of life with Shallena.  She is a wonderful gift to all of us, and we treasure every day we get!

5.       Help.  We continue to ask for help.  I am tired of it, and feel like most of you are probably tired of hearing it, but the truth is, we still need it.  Thank you for those who lift us up in prayer.  Thank you for the notes, messages, cards, phone calls and every other communication that has lifted our spirits.  Many days the clouds of discouragement have been swept away by a ray of light that has come through your care and concern for us – pointing us again to the King, and away from the raging sea.  Thank you to the scores of you who have brought us food, gift cards, advice, and even money to help out in our transition.  You have carried us, and over and over again, we have felt the miraculous provision of God through you.  But today I would like to ask for a little more help – maybe a different flavor…

Since our unexpected return from the “mission field”, we have felt that this struggle is bigger than us. That we do not fight against “flesh and blood”, and that we are caught in the middle of a great controversy between good and evil.  We especially felt this come into play when we had to leave Malamulo Hospital where we felt like the kingdom of heaven was advancing.  So, as we feel the loss, we are determined that this battle is not lost for the kingdom of heaven.  What I am requesting is that you join together with us in this great controversy against the kingdom of darkness.  How can you do that?  First and foremost by surrendering your life to Jesus and following where He leads.  This is always a victory for the kingdom of heaven as you cross over from darkness to light.  If anyone has questions about how this happens, I would be honored to share with you.  Second, once you have given yourself to His kingdom, then live by the raw counter-cultural principles of the kingdom of heaven – forgive somebody who does not deserve it, love your enemy, apologize for something you did, live generously, and practice reflexive grace.  The enemy is busy wreaking havoc in our world, it is time for us to be busy advancing the kingdom of heaven in our own lives.  We will together ask for God's miracles to continue in Shallena's life -- but today I am also asking that His miraculous grace will take over mine so that in the middle of this dark valley the enemy's cause is worsened for the destruction He has tried to sow.
  
"Who can separate us from the love of Christ?  Can affliction or anguish or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than victorious through Him who loved us." Romans 8:35,37.

 

What's the point?

"Why do you want this surgery? It's not going to make you live any longer," the surgical oncologist at our local hospital said with her chin thrust and her stare pointed. She nearly turned it into a mantra, repeating it five times during our one-sided conversation, each time with the same direct stare.

"It's not going to make you live longer."

Two weeks later, I'm sitting in a plastic surgeon's office in Newport Beach. My hopes rise at the thought of this appointment, because he is highly recommended.

"What's the point? You're a stage IV patient. What can you expect to gain from this?" No answer was expected. After considering I was wanting the least toxins possible released into my body through surgery, he responded, "You're a stage IV patient. I wouldn't worry about toxicity."

What's the point?

What's the point? It blindsided me, then insidiously infiltrated my thoughts, making it hard to commit to anything, because, well, what's the point? I bought the lie, without realizing that I pawned my hope for despair.

......................................

"Hey, Shallena, you're going to a small church now. You'll have a chance to participate." That weekend the teacher of the big kids class told me to come prepared to teach the little kids class. The next weekend I said, "Jamie, I'd rather not go to the kids classes at church. After all, what's the point? Our kids are the only kids anyway, so I'll just teach them at home. We can go to the main service, okay?"
.......................................

"We've got a Rocky Mountain horse that needs a home," the children's horseback riding teacher told me one day. "She's four and a clean slate." Oh wow! That's the exact horse I've wanted! But not right now. I'm too tired. I need to use my energy for other things. After all, what's the point of a horse if I don't make it? It will just give Jamie more to do.
......................................

"I saw they are conducting therapy dog training right down the road. Maybe you should call about it." I toyed with the idea, "That sure would be a good thing for the kids to do. I don't know if I want to commit to meeting the requirements. What would be the point if I'm not there to take them to different places?"
.......................................

The thoughts go on and on. I don't want to drive down the mountain because if I have a car wreck, my life is shortened more than it is already threatened. After all, my children need me as long as they can have me. I want to learn to run, but I'm no good at it. It would be hard, and after all, what's the point? However, truthfully, I've been grumpy, cranky, on edge, anxious, and nervous. I haven't been a supportive mother or wife for the past maybe, two months. Honestly, what's the point of all that??!!

I couldn't sleep, and when I did, it was filled with bad dreams and nightmares.

Please don't misunderstand. This was not self-pity. This was real questioning. The question had been there all along, but now surfaced at every opportunity. Before I had been able to rise above it, or at least ignore it, but having two medical professionals deny me the standard of medical care that they would give to a more "viable" patient affected me more than I realized.

I felt so alone. I knew I should be faithful. I tried to think it was just detox symptoms causing this, but I was really scared that I was feeling this way because my cancer was spreading (another fear that is ever-ready to erupt.) I prayed and prayed and prayed.

Two days ago I got an email telling me that a group gathered to pray for me. That night I had no bad dreams and slept more peacefully. I had a dream in which Jamie and I were walking into a hospital with a tall, blonde doctor and she said, "Your cancer is shrinking. What are you doing?" I didn't answer her except to say, "You're going to see a miracle... ." I wasn't hoping or using my game face. It was a calm, simple knowing. Then I woke up.

While that was a dream, I was so happy to realize that hope was still alive in me! I thank God for His mercy in keeping a little flicker alive to burst into flame. I have more energy again! The lie is broken, and I give all my doubts to Jesus, because He cares for me.

I'm going to commit. Thursday starts dog training, and then we can use our Malawian puppies to help hurting people in the USA.

What about you? You're broken. You've been abused. You've made self-destructive choices. You're selfish. You've got a serious medical condition. You've rejected God's grace. You hurt so bad you can't see straight. What's the point?

The point is that you are here. You are alive! You are free to choose today, and today, and today. Now is the time to break the power of the lie, but you cannot do it yourself. God is for you, and no one can stand against you. Run to Him. He is waiting for you with outstretched arms. You may not be delivered immediately out of your troubles, but you have a promise that will always be true:

Psalm 34
      18The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

19The righteous person may have many troubles,

but the Lord delivers him from them all;

For those of you, who like me, let fear disable you, He gives this promise:

Psalm 34

4I sought the Lord, and he answered me;

he delivered me from all my fears.

5Those who look to him are radiant;

their faces are never covered with shame.

Psalm 34 is so hopeful and wonderful. Why don't you read it today?

Until next time, and in all things,
Shallena

Once upon a Lifetime

Once upon a time there lived a charming tow-headed boy with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. He loved to swim in the lake, ride bikes, identify birds, play ball with his friends. He dreamed of changing the world through love. He wanted to be a missionary.

Once upon a time there lived a sweet chestnut-haired girl with eager brown eyes that caught everything. She had a sensitive spirit, loved learning, relished mission stories, and resolved in her heart that one day she would be a missionary.

She made a brief list regarding her future: 

1. I want to get married but not to a doctor
2. I will live anywhere in the USA except California
3. I will be a missionary anywhere in the world, but not Africa

One day these two children grew up and attended Andrews University. There they met and fell in love. Together they worked toward their goal, praying a lot, and God answered their prayers. They moved to California where Jamie became a doctor.

While in residency, Jamie twice brought home stories of mothers of young children dying of cancer. Those stories pierced his wife’s heart, and she tearfully pleaded with God for those families!

Then they received a call to be medical missionaries to Malawi, Africa.

Shred that list! 

The first year in Malawi felt like doing the army crawl through a violent battlefield. They questioned if they were following God’s leading or stubbornly following their own wills… .

........................................

A few people indicated that they believed we were under Satanic attack that year. We felt isolated, wounded, searching for a safe place to hide and tend our wounds as we inched forward. Our family also shook with a serious blow before we crossed the ocean as missionaries. Tenaciously we said, “We Crounses are not quitters. We are here unless we receive a clear message to leave.” Nevertheless, I thought I hated my life.

I was desperate for our first annual leave. Two months before we left on annual leave, I fired our first gardener, a thief. Two weeks before annual leave, the seven men excavating our yard cautioned me to never let the ex-gardener return to my house because he would be coming to curse me with black magic. When that very day he showed up uninvited, the excavators melted into the wall. His visit was brief. After we silently watched  him walk down our long broken mud brick driveway, turn onto the street and disappear into the kaleidoscope of chitenges and baskets, I asked the workers if they were all Christian. “Yes, Madam.” I read to them from the Bible that God is Almighty, He has defeated Satan, therefore we do not fear. Bold for a woman who just survived a year of being afraid. “Yes, Madam.” It was dutifully spoken.

Finally, Atlanta!! It felt like Christmas when we landed! I begged Jamie not to make me go back to Malawi. Please, please let me stay here where I feel safe and don’t get electrical shocks when I cook. He just looked at me.

Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Clearly it was another attack of the enemy, a culmination of the year. We were laid low, moaning. I had thought I hated my life until threatened with the possibility of losing it. I told God that if He healed me, I would go back to Malawi. I wouldn’t complain any more. I was not bargaining with Him; it was a commitment. I believed that those excavator men would believe that I was sick because of black magic. I wanted to show them that God is indeed mightier than Satan, and that Satan could discourage people but he could not defeat God. We learned that my cancer was DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ, stage 0) Bad news and good news. Good news was they could remove it all. With a double mastectomy I would have a less than one percent chance of ever getting this type of cancer again. Healed! God wins! I could walk forward in life. We were going back to Malawi!

With that victory, the enemy seemed to retreat. Each year was better after that. Without realizing it, we found ourselves loving Malawi, the Malawian people, the missionary community, the expatriates near us, our life. During our first year I was so frustrated when people visited us any time they wanted! Soon I found myself loving it! I felt lonely if no one came by. I cherished being a member of the phenomenal Malamulo family. We were all there for one purpose—to see the hospital flourish, to improve the lives and health of the people around us, as quickly and thoroughly as possible. It was an awesome experience to be a part of a team united around a single goal. It truly was beautiful, even in its imperfections.

Every day since I held my firstborn son, my heart ached with gratitude for our life together, and my soul burned with sorrow when I heard stories of mothers dying while their children were little. I fervently prayed, “Thank you, God, for each precious day of life we get to share as a family.”  In the mission field, my children and I prayed daily, “Please make us a blessing in Malawi.” We thanked God for bringing us there. Jamie came home and said to me, “I love my job!” What a blessing God gave us!

We decided that since we had been gone so much from Malawi, we would not go home for annual leave in 2016. We would stay and work and take a smaller vacation in Africa.

One night I told Jamie, “I’ve had two years to think about this. I can no longer breastfeed a child, and the world seems so uncertain right now. I have decided that we are finished having children. We need to find a more permanent solution.” The next day I learned that I was pregnant. The next day.

Really?

Now follow with me.

I seriously considered having the baby in Malawi. Our second child was born naturally and it was an excellent experience, so I reasoned that the third one should be easier. Plus, we now had a wonderful obstetrician who is also my friend—an ideal arrangement!

While pregnant, one night I had terrible heartburn. Changing body position didn’t alleviate the pain. I went to the bathroom took Tums, walked back and forth, arched my back, doubled over, twisted and turned, took two more Tums. Diarrhea began, and then vomiting. An hour and a half and twelve Tums later, I awoke Jamie. He suspected a gallbladder attack and took me to the hospital. The surgeon, using the equipment available, thought he saw a gallstone. My gallbladder attacked a few more times until I removed all fat from my diet. In light of this development, my OB and I decided that it might be best to go to the USA to have this baby.

When I saw the OB in the USA, I asked, “Could I have an ultrasound of my gallbladder? I experienced some attacks while in Malawi and I would like to know if I will need to have it removed.” An incidental finding on the ultrasound was two masses in my liver. Another obstetrician in the group called me and made a ridiculously big deal about it. “I’m really concerned about these lesions. You need to see your breast surgeon ASAP. Call today.” Instead I made appointments with internal medicine and gastro-intestinal doctors who said that it was probably nothing. After all, by definition DCIS does not metastasize. I acted as if I believed them, but inside I trembled. Deep in my heart I knew the answer: the dark oppressive shadow of cancer. I felt that I was being torn from those who mean the world to me, the ones who need me most. It didn’t help that my husband was eight thousand miles away.  I stifled the emotions as much as possible for the time so that I wouldn’t worry my innocent little ones.

Because I was lactating, I made an appointment with my breast surgeon. When Caleb was six days old we sat in her office.

“It’s okay that you’re lactating. That’s no problem.” She headed for the door. “Oh wait, let me check this.” She shoved her hand in my armpit. “I feel something. Do you feel that? We’re going to get an ultrasound. Right now.”

At the ultrasound, the radiologist tried to reassure me. “You had DCIS? You live in Africa? It’s probably nothing serious. DCIS doesn’t metastasize.”

The surgeon said, “I’m going to biopsy that. Right now.” My legs started clapping. The nurse asked me if I was okay, and the surgeon replied, “She’s freaking out.” What are you supposed to do when your worst fears are coming true one minute at a time?

The next day the nurse called and told us that it was invasive ductal carcinoma (Breast Cancer). A liver biopsy also revealed ductal carcinoma. There was no primary tumor.

Fiercely the battle roared into full onslaught.

Do you see what happened?

If I hadn’t become pregnant, my gallbladder wouldn’t have attacked.

As a result of my gallbladder attack, I had an ultrasound.

If the surgeon in Malawi hadn’t seen a stone, we might have stayed in Malawi and not come to the USA.

Because the doctors around me recommended that I have my gallbladder removed, I asked for an ultrasound from my US obstetrician.

If they hadn’t done an ultrasound in the USA, there would have been no incidental finding of liver lesions.

Being pregnant caused my breasts to lactate, so I made an appointment to see my breast surgeon. 

Because the other OB called me at home about the liver lesions, I rescheduled for an earlier appointment with the breast surgeon.

If I hadn’t gone to see the breast surgeon, we might not have discovered that I had stage IV breast cancer until it was more life-threatening situation.

Attacked, but not defeated. Wounded, but not abandoned.

What’s my point?

Often we experience things that we don’t understand, and certainly aren’t our plans. Sometimes that involves pain. God sees the end from the beginning, and has promised that He is going to take care of you and me. "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

I’m also realizing more about Jesus coming as a beautiful baby boy to save our lives, because God has saved my life through the birth of our precious, perfect baby boy. "For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." 1 Cor. 1:25

And once upon a lifetime you might realize that everything that means the world to you now was once on your unwanted list. Then your heart will break…

… with gratitude.

Shallena

~ Love abundantly. See how God has led you. Look for Life.~

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.” Proverbs 16:9