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… .

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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

"Passing off the baby again"

It's 4:30 in the morning. I'm sitting on the green-tiled bathroom floor beside a smelly pile of dirty laundry, listening to my baby boy cooing in the room next to me as I type on the computer.

I've been up an hour.

Crying.

Yesterday in church I handed Caleb to a young lady who wanted to hold him. After she gave him back to me, another older lady friend came over so I handed Caleb to her. The young woman turned and commented to no one in particular, "Passing off the baby again."

Passing off the baby?

Passing off my baby?

That insensitive comment struck my heart.

Does she have any idea that when my baby was a week old, my joy was turned to sorrow? Does she know that my security was replaced with insecurity?

Does she have a clue that I daily ask if my precious tiny son knows who his mommy is, as daddy gets up with him at night again to let me sleep so that I can "get well" so Caleb even has a chance to know his mommy?

Does she appreciate the fact that his brother and sister were mine at this age, and breastfeeding soothed their every need, but this baby has no idea what comfort at mommy's breast feels like?

Does she have any concept of the hours I've mentally wrestled, trying to understand for what purpose God gave me a baby now, when He knew before I did that I had stage IV breast cancer?

Does she realize that sharing Caleb is a result of me trying to make sense of his birth at this time in my life? That I reason that the blessing that he is must be for others and not just myself?

Does she understand that I cannot kiss or hold my baby like a normal mother because of the chemotherapy?

Can she begin to comprehend how much I long for his life, for our life, to be "normal", like most new babies have it?

Does she fathom that daily I pray that I don't have to "pass off my baby" to someone else to raise, but that his own mommy gets to raise him?

Can she observe the aching of my heart as I hold my baby close, trying to fix deep memories of his mommy in his impressionable mind--willing, willing him to remember me, not knowing how long he has with me?

Does she see the struggle, the tears, the refusal to surrender, the battle with things far too big for me, the pleading that goes on all night, the exhaustion, the attempts not to think, to sleep......



Passing off my baby. I pray, never.

Not Devastated

“I think more realistically without treatment you have six months to live”.  His face was alert, keen, and intelligent.  We had only met the Medical Oncologist a few minutes earlier, but my wife Shallena had characteristically gotten straight to the point. 

“This cancer is aggressive…”  I heard echoes of the original conversation with a radiologist two and a half years ago when the presumptive diagnosis was made, and brought me to my knees.

It was another soul sigh – adding to all of those that have come before, and are yet to come – when I wondered to myself, “Is this real? Is he really talking about my wife?”  Then I looked at my wife – sincere, serene, not flinching one bit…

“That’s what I thought all along.” She had been reading him the whole time.  For those who don’t know her, she has a gift for reading people.

Our cancer journey – from the beginning in 2013, but more especially in the last several weeks -- has been a constant challenge to the core of my faith.  I have grown up a Christian Seventh-day Adventist.  My heroes in Academy were Jesus, Huss, Jerome, and Luther.  I looked way up with wide eyes at anyone who lived their life from conviction despite inconvenience.  From a young age, I wanted to join them.  I wasn’t keen on a normal life or the American dream; I wanted something real and meaningful that was honest to the core of the calling God had on my soul. 

Going on in life I have come to walk in two worlds that seem to be separated by something like a wide river.  One world is that deeply significant world I talk about in which Christian heroes lay themselves aside and sacrifice, struggle, suffer, and sometimes die in the fight for truth and the kingdom of heaven.  It would be embarrassing to say how little time I have actually spent living in this world, but have many times become excited talking about it.  Most of the time I am afraid to visit it for fear of crossing over. The other world is the one I live in – this safe world of “Churchianity” where our safe religion, job, culture, and material existence prevent any of the woes of the world from catching up with us.  We live mostly as invincible demi-gods who are accountable only to our taste and desires.  Could the two worlds be more different?  Who can cross that raging river?

“We walk by faith, not by sight” 2 Corinthians 5:7.  What does it mean to walk by faith when you have three little ones, and your wife is given what most would consider a terminal diagnosis?  All the gods of materialism just became more impotent than Baal on Mount Carmel.  Money, culture, knowledge, education and whichever other post-enlightenment god we may worship, doesn’t fork the hay for a day.  I walk by sight, and I’m very comfortable trusting my eyes, and they can see the water raging.  They can also see that talking about faith gives me a lot more control than living in it.

That is the beauty of grace.  God in His mysterious goodness stoops low to help –  I’m quaking looking at the raging water.  I want to hold on to control of my life, but don’t have any answers.  My old meticulously planned solutions don’t work. While I tremble and quiver with fear, He holds out his strong promises and guarantees them with answers to prayer – slowly, gently leading me over the water one step at a time.

As I toggle between these two worlds – venturing into faith on good days, plummeting back to sight on weak ones, I have started to become more acquainted with that river.  I still don’t know its name, but the noisy water and currents call out at me every time I cross it.  Death and doubt call out the loudest, but fear is always there adding to the raucous noise:

“You don’t know what’s going to happen”

“How are you going to raise three children?”

“It’s going to be a lonely house”

“What are you going to do?”

It used to be easiest not to go near the river, but recently I’ve noticed I have been hearing those same voices even in the other parts of my life by sight, and all of my old answers just aren’t working.

But on the good days – oh those good days!!!  The rickety walk across the river is noisy and treacherous at first, but the King holds out his staff to steady me, and about halfway over I start hearing the most beautiful music:

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”

“If God is for us, who can be against us”

“Look to me and be saved”

“Nothing can separate us from the love of God”

“Don’t let your heart be troubled”

I want to live in that land.  It used to be more comfortable in the land of sight, but somehow…some way I can’t explain or write on this paper, God is making it more difficult to walk by sight. That is not because my faith is strong.  I’ve been many things recently, but strong is not one of them.  It is because God is strong.  Somehow, some way He has started this welcome, new, terrifying change.

Some would say, and some have said to me that having faith means knowing that God is going to heal my wife from breast cancer here and now, and that not believing that is a lack of faith.  I long for Shallena to be healed – I would love to trade my health for her disease, or anything else that I could.  Today I truly believe that Shallena is being healed.  However, the stories of Job, John the Baptist, and Jesus tell me that I don’t always know the whole story – and sometimes our greatest blessings – and the greatest advances for the kingdom of heaven -- come from the suffering we endure.  I am hoping and praying with all of my heart that Shallena is healed, but my confidence in God does not depend on it.

I would rather suggest that walking by faith in the middle of uncertainty when sight has failed means having confidence that God is still good, and can take care of us and our future, especially when it is uncertain.  Leaving far behind the noisy fear of death, doubt, and selfish ambition, and abandoning our deep-seated dogma that money can solve our problems, I want to cross over the river.  I don't just want to talk about it -- I want to live in it.  I want to let God deal with the diagnosis, the prognosis, the questions, the answers, the tears, the fears, today, tomorrow, and everything else I can’t even put into words.  I want Him to be in charge of the success of our future, so that we can stop worrying about it, and start once again to do His work.

Fortunately, there is treatment for Shallena’s cancer.  While it gives us comfort to know that medicine has treatment that can potentially extend her months to years, our hope and trust is in God. 

We have been overwhelmed by the love, support, and prayers of those who love us, and have heard about our situation.  Thank you for remembering us and all of your support.  Thank you for the empathy for our situation – it’s not easy.  But we didn’t ask God for easy.  We asked for God to use our lives to glorify Him, and to do that at any cost.  He has been given the right to use our lives for His glory, and somehow He has allowed us to have cancer to bring glory to Him.  I don’t know how He is going to do that, but I know that day by day, one faltering step after another we are going to follow Him, and take from His hand what He gives us.  One day when we can see the end from the beginning, we will thank God for the faith that he grew in us while we walked this dark part of our path.  We have struggled, we are still barely crawling, but I hear that sweet music coming from the other side.  The roaring river is fading out – it is losing its hold on us.  By nothing greater nor less than the infinite mercy of God, we are not, and will not be devastated.

“For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38,39.

Paradox

Have you heard Michael Card's song, "God's Own Fool"? It's one of my all-time favorites.

Seems I've imagined Him all of my life
As the wisest of all of mankind
But if God's Holy wisdom is foolish to men
He must have seemed out of His mind

For even His family said He was mad
And the priests said a demon's to blame
But God in the form of this angry young man
Could not have seemed perfectly sane

Chorus
When we in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
When we in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong
And so we follow God's own fool
For only the foolish can tell-
Believe the unbelievable
And come be a fool as well

So come lose your life for a carpenter's son
For a madman who died for a dream
And you'll have the faith His first followers had
And you'll feel the weight of the beam
So surrender the hunger to say you must know
Have the courage to say I believe

For the power of paradox opens your eyes
And blinds those who say they can see

Chorus

So we follow God's own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable,
And come be a fool as well

"For the power of paradox opens your eyes, and blinds those who say they can see." Mmm, that hits deep. I like it.

Interestingly enough, battling cancer is like that: paradoxical.

A healthy-feeling, energetic person who feels better than she has in years is told that she's dying, so she is given a potentially lethal cocktail of medicine to kill what's killing her, loses her health from the meds, finds out that she either has or doesn't have cancer, and then has to regain her health if she lives through the brew.

She is in the prime of life with a beautiful joyful family, has finally found her place and purpose, begins to see how she can make a difference, prays daily to be a blessing, and then is slammed with the news that no one wants to hear: "You've got months." All that she holds dear, all that feeling of arriving, is snatched from her at that moment. 

She refuses to accept the death sentence, believing that God's word is clear about God healing all of our diseases, (didn't Jesus do that?), yet is told so often that God's will might be her death. That is difficult to accept. "May God's will be done."

She reads the Bible, wanting to be submissive, yet her heart feels like Jacob, "I won't let you go unless You bless me." Do you notice something about that story? God had to wound Jacob before he realized who he was wrestling against. Why do we long for God and fight Him so long?

May the power of paradox open our eyes, so that the fleeting days we have on this earth may be busy following the all-knowing, all-powerful God who made Himself nothing according to the world's standards to give life to the people who wanted Him dead because they wanted to protect their way of life, paradoxically.

-sc

Hold Me, Jesus

This song currently resonates with me, whereas Jamie likes "Tell Your Heart to Beat Again" by Danny Gokey, who lost his wife unexpectedly. As Tony Campollo said, "You can always preach a hymn." :)

Hold Me, Jesus

Well, sometimes my life just don't make sense at all

When the mountains look so big,

And my faith just seems so small 

So hold me Jesus,
Cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart

So hold me Jesus,
Cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight you for something
I don't really want
Than to take what you give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees

And the Salvation Army band is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin

So hold me Jesus,
Cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

--Rich Mullins

Psalm 139:16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.


Psalm 143:8  Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust mylife.

~sc

Some Things I am Thankful for

I know we have made a lot of people cry with us recently, so on the start of this Sabbath, I wanted to share some things I am thankful for.

1.  Its Sabbath, and we get to rest

2.  God is a God of love and freedom

3.  Sin and sickness will one day be no more

4.  I am married to a beautiful woman who loves God, my family, and me with all her heart

5.  I have parents who raised me to fear God

6.  I am part of a worldwide church that believes the Bible, and encourages freedom of thought and difference of opinion.

7.  Freedom to worship

8.  To be part of a dedicated and talented group of medical missionaries at Malamulo Hospital

9.  Caleb will be 1 month-old tomorrow

10.  Georgia Peaches

11.  Michigan sunsets

12.  The Rocky Mountains

13.  Yellowstone

14.  Pretty rocks

15.  God’s promises, particularly Romans 8:28 today.

16.  Eternal life

17.  Gardening

18.  The generosity and support of friends

19.  Computers and the internet

20.  Eden Valley Institute of Wellness

21.  Modern Medicine

22.  That Shallena does not have any cancer in her bones, brain, or lungs

23.  Air to breathe

24.  Water to drink

25.  Family love and support

26.  Kai and Kristi Steele

27.  That our church values Education, Health Care, and Mission

28.  Abigail

29.  Jedidiah

30.  Kittens and puppies (to make children happy)

31.  Fishing

32.  The generosity of strangers

33.  Izod seaside poplin short sleeve shirts

34.  That we are not alone

35.  The Bible

36.  Electricity

37.  Running water

38.  Cherries and blueberries

39.  Malawi Mangoes

40.  The Shanti Ruth Pediatric Fund at Malamulo Hospital, and all the lives it has saved

41.  Intimacy

42.  Miracles

43.  Ceiling fans

44.  Disposable diapers

45.  Healing

46.  Prayer

47.  Peace in the middle of a storm

48.  Love in the midst of grief

49.  Companionship

50.  Hope

The Love of My Life

“You call it a Bible study, but it’s not a Bible study.  It’s an Ellen White Study.”  I looked for a moment into the intelligent and fiery eyes of this mysterious and opinionated young lady, and pondered for a moment. 

“She’s cute!” I thought to myself. 

Hardly the romantic start of a never-ending fairy tale, but oh-so truly the start of our love affair.  The strange new girl on campus was no other than Shallena Russell, and she was working her way up my list.  We met at a Bible Study – well, actually an Ellen White study – that I was leading.  Despite fundamentally different perspectives on the nature of the exercise, we met on the level of the discussion – we both cared deeply about spiritual things.  She had come to Andrews University looking for spiritual community.  I was knee deep in a Biology degree looking for a soul mate who could help me figure out why I was doing a Biology Degree, and just about everything else in life.

I didn’t have a lot of time to lose – Shallena was hotly pursued.  As I valued her independent thought, listening ear, and raw honesty, others were also noticing.  We went for long walks, climbed trees, talked by the moonlight, and sledded down sand dunes.  Those others were becoming less relevant.  I was walking on air, she was still not entirely convinced. 

What exactly it was that convinced me is not clear even today.  Whether it was her blunt honesty in the face of doubt and perplexity, her staunch commitment to family, her love of the natural world, or her search for an authentic walk with Jesus – it didn’t take long before I knew I wanted to be in the inner circle with this Georgia Peach!

Then one sunny summer Sabbath day, I finally managed to ask her to marry me, and she finally managed to say yes.  It’s always taken us longer than other people, but once we get rolling, we usually get it done.

February 3, 2002 Shallena and I became one.  Since that day we have shared life as a family in all of its joy and woe.  I thank God for you, Shallena.

Several months after our wedding, we took a five week “honeymoon road trip” which took us to the Rocky Mountains.  Wyoming had gotten under my skin, and I wanted to show it to my new bride.  I showed her the snow-capped Wind River Mountain Range in Northern Wyoming, and it was not long until we were in it.  We had planned a five-day backpacking trip, and it promised to deliver a memorable experience.  Our first day of hiking was rigorous.  We packed our bags, started plodding up the mountain.  I’ll never forget how she got frustrated with the 13 switchbacks up one of the mountains, and just decided to go four-wheel drive straight up the incline.  At the top, a refreshing breeze cooled the sweat on our brow.  Just around the next corner was Clark’s Creek. 

Now, I didn’t know much about Clarks creek, but as we surveyed it that June day, the water level was high from the melting snow, and it was looking more like Clark’s River.  There were several logs thrown across the rocks making a precarious bridge with raging whitewater underneath cascading down the mountainside.  It didn’t look too good to me – it was unthinkable to Shallena.  I got to work sourcing logs to bolster the viability of our bridge, and finally arrived to what I considered passable.  Shallena wasn’t convinced.  I teetered across with my backpack, put it down, then crossed again with Shallena’s backpack.  Finally, I found a sturdy stick and held it out for Shallena to hold on to.  She slowly started the journey over the raging water.  One step at a time, holding on to the stick.  Gentle encouragement, a little slip, a little fear, a safe landing on the other side. 

Once safely across the river, we hugged and danced, and felt like we could do anything.  Clark’s Creek had become the best one-hour marriage enrichment seminar possible.  Our growing love had reached a new depth in trust and accomplishment.  One small step for the trip, one huge step for the marriage.  We went on from Clark’s Creek to Summit Lake, Porcupine Pass, and finally down the other side of the mountain.  It was our first trip of the sort, but became a defining event for us as we have returned to the Wind River Mountains at least 4 times since to retrace our steps. 

Shallena cried as we drove away from the mountains that had stretched and grown us. 

Then came Medical School and Residency with all of their demands.  “I miss you”.  Her sweet brown eyes fixed intently on mine.  We hadn’t planned on being a doctor’s family when we said “I do”, but God had made it clear we were supposed to go, and Shallena supported me every step of the way.  When I had more reading to do than I had time, she read to me.  I remembered best those long words that she didn’t quite pronounce right...

We went on from the training life in the United States to the working life in Malawi.  It took us a long time to get started in Malawi.  We spent many nights talking until we couldn’t talk anymore.  I will always remember her soft, calm, wise voice speaking wisdom in the middle of the night into my young and immature ears as we faced our biggest challenge yet. 

After returning from our Intern Missionary Year, Shallena was diagnosed with Breast Cancer – DCIS.  I will always remember her response – true to every non-entitled fiber in her being – “Why NOT me?”  She didn’t chafe, didn’t complain, but simply asked God for more time to raise her children, and to work for Him.  Her wish was granted. 

We returned to Malawi with a renewed energy and commitment to the work God had given us to do. 

Then a couple years later the phone rang.  I didn’t want to take the phone call, because I knew what she was going to say.  However, it was better for me than Shallena.  

“Jamie, the biopsy showed invasive ductal carcinoma”.   There were a lot of questions of how an essentially benign and fully treated problem had in actuality recurred and spread.  There had also been concerns about an ultrasound that showed a mass in her liver, and we knew too much to remain in denial. 

We asked the children to play while we sat on the porch with our newborn baby and cried.  Jedidiah saw us, “Mommy, is everything okay?  Why are you crying and praying, is somebody going to die?”

“Jamie, we have to be strong for the children.”  We wiped the tears away, and went in to play a hollow game of UNO.

Later that night as we processed the news alone, we sat and looked at each other through blurry eyes.  She knew as surely as I that this was a malignant diagnosis.  She told me I would have to get remarried because the children need a mom – providing for her family, even in the event of her absence.  I told her I was not ready for that conversation, and asked how she was being so even and composed about the whole thing.

“Jamie, when you come to a raging river, and you have no choice but to cross over, you have to take hold of the stick that God is holding out to you and go forward, even if the other side is eternity.”

So, dear friends, here we go.  We don’t know how long this journey is going to be. We do know that it ends in eternity when God has safely carried us across the raging river and wiped these salty tears from our eyes.  Why we have been given this road to walk will one day make a lot more sense than it does today.  But just as Clark’s Creek grew our love and trust in each other from the fear of it, so Breast Cancer is not a fit foe for the grace that God has already shown to our family.   We are taking it slowly, one step at a time, holding on to everything that God has given us to stabilize our stumbling feet.

As I write this tribute to My Love, she is undergoing Lifestyle Treatment at Eden Valley Institute of Wellness.  We have met caring and dedicated staff who have helped to highlight the value of lifestyle choices and simple treatments in the fight against cancer.  We came because Shallena needed some time to recover from a difficult pregnancy, as well as to process the road ahead – we are staying because we feel God has led us here.  We will be leaving Eden Valley in a couple weeks, and plan to stop by Mayo Clinic on the way home to help us with the next step in sorting out other treatment options.

I want to say a deep and heartfelt thank you to all of the friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers who have so generously given to us their love, prayers, and financial support.  We didn’t ask for it, but our dear friends the Steeles and Jefferys didn’t really give us a choice in the matter.  The encouraging words you have sent our way have renewed our strength day by day, and you have lifted the financial burden we would otherwise be bearing.  We have felt God’s divine love in the overnight community that you have become for us.  Thank you for your love.  Thank you for your prayers. 

Tonight, I have one new request.  As many of you may know, there is an undeniable psychological struggle that comes with a diagnosis that is as morbid as Stage 4 Breast Cancer.  We are gearing up for the fight of our lifetime, and there is no looking back.  God is taking us where we have not been, and every step is a new experience fraught with fear and faith.  You have already helped us by your words of encouragement and prayers, and we are eternally grateful.  My request now is if you could also share with us some of the happy memories that you have had with Shallena.  She eagerly reads the messages of support, and in the trying days ahead, those stories will give her strength.  I know not everybody has a story, or is a story teller, but for those who are, I would deeply appreciate your story about the Love of My Life.  It doesn’t have to be long, and if it’s funny, you get bonus points.  For now, I am requesting you post the story under the comments on the YOUCARING page which can be found at

https://www.youcaring.com/jamie-shallena-crounse-577970/update/483702 or on Facebook at Jamie-Shallena Crounse.

Thank you for caring, we thank God for you.