Well, here we are: Dec. 27, almost two weeks since my last chemo treatment. I have been fielding one question a lot: "Are you feeling better?" The answer to that is yes and no. I can't describe to you the enormous relief I feel at finishing the chemo regimen. What a fantastic Christmas gift! That in itself is a huge boost. Physically, though, I still have a long road to recovery. The chemicals should be out of my system completely by mid-January. But the reality is that each treatment left behind a lot of damage. So my body still needs time to recuperate after 4 months of constant attack. Right now, I am still dealing with symptoms from the last chemo treatment - tingling in my hands and feet, and some numbness. I have a bit of bone pain, and there is still some infection in my mouth. (Although this is improving slowly). And the fatigue slows me down on most days. I am told that full recovery from cancer treatment takes anywhere from 6 - 12 months after one is finished treatment. Barring any complications, I will complete radiation therapy in February, and then take a few months to get back on my feet fully. In the midst of all this, I can't help but be grateful for the love and support of family and friends... We have had a great Christmas - one of the best because this year has truly been about cherishing people and time spent together. I celebrate the idea of "Emmanuel" - God with us - because each of us face challenges in life, and some of them do not disappear over the holidays. But even so, isn't it wonderful to consider that God is among us in all that messiness, sharing our struggles, and working in our midst in spite of them? That is my great celebration this holiday season. The road ahead to recovery may be long and have a few bumps along the way. But I am not walking it alone: "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." And, as always, I have my faithful sidekick, Sam, who tags along each day. (Looks like he is quite stressed by this whole thing, doesn't it?!)

Toughest road yet but ...

As we move slowly towards the end of the chemicals in Cindi's body (and apparently towards the end of the world or the Mayan Calendar) this has been the toughest road yet but there is a huge shining light at the end of it. Cindi has been extremely tired this last round and going through deep soreness and pain. The "TAXOL" has gone deep into her body and accumulated over the last 8 weeks so this is what she is pressing through...with courage and endurance. The high of the last treatment is now over and the race is not quite done. They say that it is the last few kilometres of the marathons that are the hardest - that the first 20 or 30 kilometres were simply a warmup to the final legs of the journey. This appears true for Cindi's race. She still has her viral infection in her mouth and will continue to take her meds for that, hoping that it will clear up and go away. Mushy food is still the name of the game for now and perhaps we will puree the turkey.

We have celebrated good times with our family and last Saturday did some family photos for Grandma with the grandkids and great grandkids. Fun with those and then a hearty few bowls of early winter chili - perfect. Today is day 4 after the chemo. Christmas will be day 10. New Years will be day 17 and by then we hope for some normal days again and better feelings physically. All in His hands. Was asked a few days ago to think about what my sweet spot is at work. What an interesting question. Considering that question has left me realizing how tired and done this journey has left me. Maybe it will require some time holding Cindi's hand and walking the trails with her and the dogs before any clear answers appear. She is my priority and my sweet spot right now and it has been somewhat bittersweet watching her press through it all. However, this too shall pass and i am so proud of her.

This is the final post before the end of the world. :) Should we make it to the 22nd - we'll continue to share along the way and perhaps will have some bright and cheery stories. May each of you have an amazing Christmas and a wonderful celebration of His birthday. May you each be moved deeply and have a sense of how much you and I are loved. Here is a story we used last week in Sunday School to point to the essence of Christmas at a heart level. ENJOY!

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. 

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas--oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it: overspending; the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma; the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else. 

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. 

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. 

It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. 

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." 

Mike loved kids-- all kids-- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. 

That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition-- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. 

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. 

The story doesn't end there. 

You see, we lost Mike last year due to sickness. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. 

Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. 

Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

 


Here we are...

Well, here we are at the end of the first and worst part of this journey. Cindi graduated today with a certificate and everything. As we were finished dinner and cleaning up, she looked at her graduation certificate from the chemo centre and said that this was probably the most significant grad document she had ever received. It was a mixture of emotions today. I was happy and yet stressed. I wanted everything to go well and I was spending the day at work getting everything done so I could take the next 2 weeks and simply be with Cindi through the final healing from her sessions. Late in the day she sent me this photo and I knew that we had passed a milestone of sorts.

I texted her and told her how beautiful she was and that she was my hero. Family and friends...you have been amazing throughout this journey and we know it has not been easy on you. What is next? Well... a time of rest and healing from the cure (the chemo). Cindi is still dealing with the virus that evolved during this process and continues on those meds. There is danger of that spreading and it is still serious. Yet we look forward to a new year, a quiet January and then radiation for 4 weeks.

Time to breathe now and hope that the worst is over and it is a new day. So yes, here we are...grateful, happy, hopeful and holding each others hand. Psalm 91:4 says this, "He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection." That is my prayer for my wife as we journey ahead. Peace and grace to you all.

"stretcher or carrier"

We are on the home stretch for this opening foray of cancer eradication. Hard hit, Cindi is pressing through this in amazing ways and with a perseverance and calm that amaze me all the time. I simply do the dishes, pick up, spend time praying and worrying over her and generally feel fairly useless in this big picture. I have had to learn the value of these little tasks around the house that need doing (loving sweeping, vacuuming, dish doing, lunch prepping and water boiling to name a few) and being aware of how my beautiful wife is doing.

Chatting with a friend the other day he made a cool statement that made a lot of sense to me and helped both of us along in this journey. He said, "You know we all want to be the stretcher carriers but sometimes we need to be the ones in the stretchers." In a culture where we highly value the ones who help or "carry the stretchers" it is so hard to be the ones being carried. We all ask, "Where is the worth in that?" Slowly and painfully Cindi and I are beginning to comprehend the extreme beauty in receiving, the blessing in having others step into the gap and the frightening grace to be found in submission. We have found there is a wonderful peace in submission to God's plan and the expressed love of others. It wipes away the strange values we place on our own actions and leaves us simply cared for by others - valued not by our own actions but by others. Strangely this has not been an easy place to get to. Like in the story 2000 years ago where a bunch of friends break into the roof of a house and lower their friend to Jesus for healing, Cindi and I want to be the roof guys...but today, we are being lowered in so many ways.

Following Jesus is hard. Accepting grace and the offered hand of others is hard. Walking in these strange counter cultural valleys is hard. But...we have come to discover it is beautiful. May you each have the opportunity to journey into the hard places and experience difficult grace. May those opportunities grow and expand your love for Him and for others. May you find yourself on the stretcher at times - being carried and cared for. May grace be sufficient for you and may you find the precious freedom that is there.

Six down, two to go.

The last 2 weeks have been full of ups and downs. On the up side, I have been enrolled in a fitness program designed for cancer patients undergoing treatment. It feels good to move, to stretch, to just get up off the couch and get out into the outside world again. I am also far less nauseous with this particular chemo drug, which is a plus! On the down side, the fatigue seems to be harder to shake off. There is also more physical pain involved in this chemo regimen than in the first half of my treatment. I am managing, but those days when it hurts to move certainly take more energy from my sparse reserves. Although there are only 2 more treatments to go, I must admit that I have had moments when I wonder where I will find the stamina to get through them. Today I went to the doctor for the usual check up on blood work. Tomorrow was supposed to be chemo #7. Second last dose. However, I have had a small set back: I have been fighting off a virus this week, and what should have been a simple cold sore has turned into a bit of a monster.

I have a series of blisters on my upper lip, under my nose, and on the roof of my mouth, running down the back of my throat. It is very unpleasant to put it mildly. At first, I thought this was a reaction to the chemo, as mouth sores are a common side effect. Inwardly, I was struggling with the idea that I might have to endure this particular problem for another month. When I went to the doctor today, though, she had some good news for me: this is not a side effect, just a viral infection that has gotten out of control because of the strain on my immune system. There just was nothing left for my body to use in fighting this, so it blew up almost overnight. The end result is that I am on painkillers and an antiviral for the next 7 days. If the blisters subside enough in the next 48 hours, then I will be able to proceed with chemo #7 on Friday. (Please keep this in your prayer, as the chemo will be delayed until my mouth is sufficiently healed.)

It is clear to me that the strength to finish this journey is not to be found within myself. Instead, I am drawing comfort from prayer, and the support of family and friends who have sent me encouraging notes and emails at just the right moment. I have to rely on the knowledge that even in the midst of this adversity, I am not alone. One of the things I am learning about is the power of thankfulness: it can always be worse than it is. Today, for example, I sat beside a woman who explained that she was on chemo treatment #28. She had completed her first round of chemo, relapsed, and is now undergoing another treatment plan. The man seated beside her responded with "Thirty-seven." (Gulp). These folks put my single digit count into perspective. When I struggle, I recall something my grandmother used to always say:"This too shall pass."

As I wait (sometimes impatiently) to get through the treatment regimen, I have tried to list the many things for which I can be thankful. I am thankful for the crowd of people who surround me and uplift me in prayer. The many emails, notes and phone calls lift my spirits and help me keep my eyes on the finish line. My family is a constant source of love and encouragement. My relationship with Jesus is the bedrock of each day, good or bad. Without these things, I would not be able to continue. With your continued prayers, encouragement and love, I am able to keep moving toward the finish line. Above all, I am thankful that "the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations." (Psalm 100:4)

...an ask for prayer...

Last night and today have been rough for Cindi and we're not done yet. Cindi is struggling through deep pain in her bones and muscles, incredibly sore knees and joints and her mouth is breaking down with sores and rawness. It is hard to eat, it is hard to find respit from the pain, it is hard. I would ask you if you would simply bow your heads for a moment and ask for some help and a break from the hardness of these days. Thank you good friends and family. It is so hard to be beside her as she journeys. May His peace find my beautiful wife today and may it find you. Pete

BEAUTIFUL

trying to finish well?

Funny how hard it is to get to the finish line when you can almost see it but are not quite there. Ever feel that way? Finishing up the fall cleanup this year in my yard was brutal. I had this one tree - a Monster Norway Maple - that just wouldn't give up it's leaves. I had everything else done and wanted to be finished but this baby wouldn't drop...and then it did. Man! Reluctantly I went back out and finished the job. That final cleanup seemed harder than all the work I had done before. Why is that? I believe we want to finish and that ending is our goal. Let's just get this done and be done with it. But ... Cindi and I are learning that just isn't the "way". I believe (reluctantly) that the journey between start to finish may truly be what it's about. A journey involving struggle and suffering, integrity and truth, challenge and failures. The end may feel good - for a moment - but in reality everything of value happens along the way, the rejoicing and sadness, the encouraging of one another and heartfelt prayers, the love expressed and received. Once all that's over - then what?

So we choose to stay on the path right now and know that the end is in site but we will keep our steps focused on the journey. Next chemo treatment - Wednesday of next week. The 2nd last one and another milestone on this journey. My beautiful wife continues to amaze me and this process has certainly grown us closer together and taught us so much. As much as I wish this had never happened, I realize as well that I wouldn't have missed this for the world because of all the special things that have come out of it. Amazing friends, astounding family, real conversations with God, lessons in grace and dependance and a deeper love between Cindi and I. A young friend of mine who's Mom was struggling through a similar journey once said, "Cancer sucks!" I totally agree. I also believe that God will work out all things for good and in the midst of the mess, that is what I watch for and celebrate.

May your journeys never be comfortable and be real and full of blisters and soreness. May you risk the narrow gate and the road less travelled and engage in bungee-jumping faith where your reliance must be on Him. May you fall down and marvel at the gentle hands of a loving God who is there and helps you up all the while teaching and growing you. May you pray for danger and sadness so that your life and heart might grow bigger and heavier for the things that He wants us to care about. May you suffer so that you can experience the tangible love of a real friend. And in all of this - may you be blessed!

6s

So this past Wednesday Cindi went through her 6th chemo. This new drug "taxol" is quite a journey for her. She has to endure some pretty severe muscle and bone ache and it is not easy. I am so proud of her and her perseverance through it all. 2 more treatments to go and then we are done this chemo-thing and it is time for a well deserved break. Last treatment - December 12th - the date we are shooting for - less than 4 weeks away.

Then after a few more weeks Cindi should be on the mend and even perhaps growing some hair back. I am praying that she is feeling better for Christmas or at least New Years and we can take it from there. I took some time over the last week and a half to unwind and rejuvenate. I spent 6 days in Algonquin Park with my son Matthew canoeing and portaging through a little snow, some nice weather and a day of rain. Simple things can be very restorative and it has been years since I camped with my son.

All in all these two 6s are good things. One step closer to being done and one step closer to feeling restored. Both of us are a bit burnt out and longing for better days. We know that these times will surely pass and there are new things to enjoy and perhaps overcome on the horizon. One foot forward and then the next. Thank you to all of you who have been there in prayer and support over the last few months. You are appreciated so much. Peace and grace to you all.

Chemo treatment #5 was completed on Wednesday, Oct. 31. I was anxious about this treatment, because it was the first time a new drug was used, which can cause some pretty extreme reactions when it is administered. (Including what my oncologist described as "experiencing an impending sense of doom." Gee, that's great, especially given the fact that I started this treatment on HALLOWE'EN!) As per usual, my worries were a waste, because all went very well. So much so, that the nurse commented at the end of the session that "this was one of the smoothest administrations of this drug" that he'd experienced. WHEW! I continue to say thank you for your prayers - as my body undergoes this onslaught, I continue to experience strength and grace in the midst of the side effects. The only explanation I have is that I am being sustained by the many prayers being offered on my behalf.

As to the side effects: Thankfully, the nausea is not nearly as bad with this particular drug. The trade off though is that I will have some pain to cope with in my joints and limbs. Today my devotions reminded me that this too shall pass: "We wish you could see how all this is working out for your benefit, and how the more grace God gives, the more thanksgiving will resound to his glory. This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent." (2 Cor. 4:15-18). The wear and tear of chemo will pass; the grace of God will sustain. Isn't that awesome?

Sometimes it's tiring.

This morning, after cleaning out, feeding and watering our chickens and Quail in the pouring rain (poor birds), I came back in for a coffee and sitting beside Cindi, I asked her how she was. She looked at me and quietly said, "I'm tired of being sick." So hard to hear those words and know that although we are half way there, we still have 6 1/2 weeks to go and 4 more treatments. And from the look in her eyes, I can see that this is hard! Yes, it is tiring for my beautiful wife to manage simple things like food when she is nauseous or getting through the day spending time reading or watching a favorite show when just months before she had a demanding job and schedule and a vibrant schedule. It's tiring wondering what people think of you when you have no hair and look "different". It all takes a toll. Ever feel this way? Ever feel like you're not in control of things and it drains you of all your energy and joy? Ever try to wish away the trials that you're in? I do. We all do. Problem is that they never seem to magically disappear when you want them to. But...they do pass.

However, in the midst of the "tiredness" there are moments of wonderful comfort! Silly friends drop by with silly gifts and words of comfort and stories of "normal", trying on head scarves together and having a good chuckle. Friends deliver lasagnas with about an inch of cheese on the top that tastes like a little bit of heaven and is simply wonderful. People reach out and with their actions and words say - "Hang in there. We love you. You can do this." And we can do this. Each of us is wired up to do whatever it is we are doing. Perhaps we could let go of some of the fringe busy things and make life a little more simple. But we can bite the bullet and rely on each other and the wonderful support of "community" - those people in our lives who hold our hands. So today we will put our heads down and move forward. We ask each other to pray for the things we need, hoping in that support for answers from a loving God. We look forward to the "good moments" and squeeze every bit of goodness out of them like a warm bath with Egyptian jasmine salts to make her feel better - restored - renewed.

Thank you for your continued prayers for my most beautiful wife. She will need them more now than ever as she begins this journey to the end of treatment...the end of tiredness...the end of being sick. Know that we appreciate and love each of you for the sacrifices you have made of your time, your food and your prayers. They are appreciated more than you can imagine. We will continue to hold Jesus' hand in this and let Him guide the way. We will tell Him daily about the beautiful friends and family we have and how they are so appreciated. We will see this through to the end and (in tiredness) we will celebrate the good that has touched us on this journey. Peace and grace to each of you as you each walk your own paths... Oh...and could someone pray for this rain to go away?

...a post from Cindi

A tribute to my husband: Since the BC diagnosis, so many things have changed. Life has been interrupted in so many ways, big and small. From being off work, (big change) to struggling on some days to just make a cup of tea, my daily life has its ups and downs. However, there has been one constant along the way: the love and support of my husband. He has told me over and over again "I am here with you. I am not going anywhere." And then he sets about the many tasks that I can't do on certain days. That cup of tea to settle my roiling stomach? Made. Floor needs vacuuming? No problem. Dusting, preparing for visitors, making meals, walking the dogs.... All done with such love and tenderness and concern. I worry about the big load he is shouldering between the demands of work, home and now caring for a spouse with serious limitations some days....and I am so grateful he is here. What would I do without this wonderful guy?! So please join me today in sending him some encouraging words...Cindi

a note from Cindi

Reached the halfway point in treatment today. 4 down, 4 to go. Each one gets more challenging to manage: more nausea, severe heartburn, really really tired a lot. And my eyes have been affected too. BUT the doc has provided more meds to help alleviate the discomforts along the way. So I am hopeful that this latest treatment will be better than the last one, if only because I can keep myself better hydrated. As I was walking the dogs through a meadow tonight, I couldn't help but marvel at this thought: Emmanuel, God with us. As I struggle through this season of my journey, I am comforted by the knowledge that God "gets" my infirmities, and is my source of strength in my hour of need.

I love how Paul puts it in Hebrews 4: "14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven,[f] Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 16 Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Thanks so much for your support, encouraging notes, visits, food... The love shared with us in this way is an expression of God's grace to Pete and I.

One Tough Lady!!

So, yesterday (Tuesday) Cindi heads off to the hospital with her sister for her blood tests and her meeting with her oncologist and nurse and updates. She shares with them that she's been very nauseous through this last two weeks and experiencing tons of heartburn with water drinking and a little dehydrated. They asked her why she hadn't called in and she said simply - because. They asked some more questions and then asked Cindi to describe what would be a really bad day - one where she might call in to the hospital. Cindi replied, "That would be when I am constantly at the toilet throwing up all day."

The nurse and doctor were amazed at Cindi's stamina, and her perseverance through some tough and uncomfortable side effects and not complain. They said her tolerance levels were amazing! When asked if she was using her backup meds to work with the side effects Cindi said no. She had done some studies on some of those back up meds and doesn't want the side effects they can result in (weird tics or a tongue sticking out). She says that facial tic and protruding tongues are a deal breaker for her. Both the nurse and the oncologist smiled and said that she had an amazing attitude to this whole process and they were very impressed with what a tough lady she is! They usually take blood on the Tuesday before chemo. Now as you may remember, Cindi has a portacath under the skin that they use to access her veins for blood draws and chemo giving. Well the portacath was plugged up and wouldn't work. They did some x-rays and then used a chemical (they described it as a type of human grade "drano" to unplug it and get back to business. It worked. I wasn't paying full attention to Cindi when she said they used drano on her and I nearly came out of my skin but she explained it was not drano but drano-like and safe for humans. I need to learn to listen better.

My poor amazing wife! Poked, prodded, stuck with needles, x-rayed, cat-scanned and filled with strange concoctions. So brave, so wonderfully strong. So amazing!!! Please, if you feel up to it, pause and pray for Cindi today as she gets her fourth chemo (the last of the first round and a special halfway milepost in the journey). Peace and grace to you on the road you are on.

Fall is here!

Fall is definitely here and the weather cooling down. I've blown leaves off my yard and deck several times and off the roof of our home (cottage) twice. Crazy but I like it. Cindi has been tired by the end of each afternoon. She's a real trooper and right now looks like someone who is running a fifty kilometre race and is at kilometre marker 22. She's got her head down and is pushing forward. It's still hard to stand beside her as she does this road but...there's nowhere else I would want to be right now.

Had an awesome few hours with Matt and Chels and the kids last Saturday as went out to collect some pumpkins and have some fun together. These little trips are important to Cindi and family has become so precious. Making memories one event at a time. Running the race one day at a time. Praying and walking in "the way".

Today is a good day!

Today is a good day. Cindi is feeling better and the kids, our kids and grandchildren came over for a visit. Just thought I'd share a bit about our kids. Here they are.

Chris, Chelsea, Finn, Matt and Ireland

Ireland Chelsea and Jessica

Jason and Jessica

Finn

Ireland... It's wonderful to have family and to feel the love that sits in the middle of all of that. Nothing quite compares. This is something we are incredibly thankful for! Peace.

Sharing something from a friend

Today a good friend of mine, Joanna, shared a video with me that simply reminded me of a truth that I believe we all need to remember. I know some of you are going to be, are or have been parents. This one is for you...but I believe it is applicable to so many more aspects of our lives as well. http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=Xgj-I1dDubA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DXgj-I1dDubA%26feature%3Dyoutu.be God is good and faithful and worthy. Although it is difficult to allow Him to be in charge - I believe it is the only way every time all the time...that is, if you believe.

3rd time is not a charm but...we are THANKFUL

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! This is the season to harvest and enjoy the fruits of that harvest. The turkeys are fat and roasting slowly in ovens. The potatoes are big and crisp. The stuffing and gravy fills the house with scents strong enough to bring the whole neighbourhood over. It is a time of celebration, of family and of thanks. We are just past the the 3rd chemo and this one has not been a charm. Cindi felt this one harder than the last two. Nausea is stronger and more frequent, tiredness and sickness are prevalent and it is simply hard to get up and about. It's obviously going to get harder before it gets better. I must admit I'm tired of seeing my wife being beat up by these chemicals. I feel helpless to do anything to make a difference for her and I am struggling to simply handle her journey and not be demotivated and devastated by it all. I simply don't want her to have to do this. This was nothing we were prepared for and it is hard!

But we are thankful. I feel the prayers of our friends. Cindi feels them too. In the helplessness, we are discovering things like humility and brokenness and realizing that these are OK - actually these are good. It is only in the darkness that we are aware of the light and I it is only in the brokenness that we perceive the healer. I am thankful for this journey but I admit I would step off this path in a heartbeat if I thought it was the right thing to do. I am thankful for the beautiful wife I have that makes me whole but I am struggling deeply with the fact that she has to suffer through this chemo. I guess right now I am clearly working at being thankful and I hope that is OK with God. I realize that the time we have here is a gift and although, in our house, it kind of stinks right now, I will take this gift - this time with and love I feel for Cindi, the beautiful prayers and songs that were sung this morning at church, the wonderful caring comments and hugs from my community - I will take these gifts. I will cherish these right beside the struggles and the tough stuff.

If anything, we are learning what it means to pick up a cross. It's not easy. It comes with a price. It means we have to follow this Jesus that loves us and leads us down incredibly tough trails at times. We're ready for some healing for Cindi and some rest for our souls but...not yet...that will come. We are thankful for all of you, for your prayers, for the meals dropped off here and the short visits and phone calls with Cindi. We are thankful for a family that loves us out loud. And (deep breathe) we are thankful for this rough pathway and the need to walk down it. I pray He forgives my weaknesses and continues to give us strength to get through it. I believe He will and that is good enough. One day at a time. Following Jesus is hard and yet - so frighteningly beautiful!

Pics of the 3rd Chemo

Today was treatment three of eight - almost half way! First order of business we hydrate. The more water you can take in for the 24 hours before, the better the handling of the chemo. So glug glug!

Then we park in the VIP parking at the Hospital and check in. Very not exciting...

Then we sit in an incredibly not exciting (yawn) waiting area...wait for it...

Finally into the suite or cafe if you will

And then the Maitre Di - o sorry - the nice nurse in charge of us greets us, asks a few silly questions and then asks Cindi if she would like a lounge chair or a bed. Today was bed-kind-of-day so she settled down in a beauty of a single hospital bed with her trusty husband sitting at her side.

Then the Chemo...

Of course it wouldn't be right without Cindi giving me one of her, "Can you stop taking silly pictures!" looks. And then we are done. We are so grateful for the doctors and systems set up at Grand river Hospital which we have affectionately renamed - The Chemo Cafe.

And then it is a return home, to be greeted by our crazy pack of boys (Jake, Harley and Sam). You'd think we'd been gone for a month but it is good to be missed by our dogs and their affection is so welcome. Returning home Cindi found a mailed gift of scarves from friends in St Catherines and then another friend and daughter from Kitchener dropped off some more soup for the meals along the way. Such a unique experience. Such a surprise to be finding ourselves driving to a hospital for this kind of treatment for this elusive (yet tangible now) thing called cancer. Never expected to be here. Never wanted to be here. But we are here and once again I am amazed by the grace and resilience of my beautiful wife. At the hospital we ran into a friend from church who is on her own similar journey. We also bumped into our neighbours who are travelling a similar road. A strange day of cancer comrades. Is God at work in the midst of this? No doubt. We feel the care and the friendships. We now sit at home and Cindi is shouting out funny things to me that she is reading from her facebook page. I do love her so. Check out the new scarf. Peace and grace to each of you on your own roads.