I suppose the hard begins next week.

We see the oncologist on Tuesday for the results of all the tests. Although he called us Wednesday with the good news that there was no cancer in her bones or other organs, we are still waiting for the pathology reports from biopsies done on Thursday. We assume it has spread to lymph nodes based on the MRI. We are hopeful that the biopsies done on her right breast will be clear. Either way, we will begin a new phase of Marissa’s journey.

The plan is 20 weeks of chemotherapy; then surgery; then radiation. On paper it seems doable. It looks like any other doctor visit summary–here’s what you have and here’s the plan to fix it. On paper it doesn’t hurt so much.

Marissa and I had a sweet talk after the biopsies. She was telling me about her initial reaction to the diagnosis, about how almost immediately she had the assurance that this was from God. This was God directing her path; this was God keeping her way straight.

I suppose there is nothing that gives me more joy. Nothing that brings me more hope. To know that she loves God. To know that He loves her.

It doesn’t make sense on paper. But it makes all the difference.

You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11

I can’t stop smiling.

I didn’t realize how scared I was that the cancer had spread. God had been blanketing our hearts with His peace so we had been calm. But cancer had been a shock, Stage III cancer had been a shock, and we just didn’t know if Stage IV cancer would be the next shock. We didn’t know if that was part of Marissa’s story.

When we missed a call with “urgent news” we were terrified to call back. But Marissa called and held out the phone so we could all hear and what we heard was good news–the cancer had not spread.

I believe God is good no matter what. A Stage IV diagnosis would not change His goodness. But we had prayed for some good news, and in His perfect providence He gave us good news.

We understand the seriousness of Stage III cancer. We know there are tough days ahead. We know there are no guarantees of tomorrow. Sometimes He gives grace for bearing up under the worst storm. Sometimes He rolls the clouds away.

Today, the sun is shining.

Sometimes Christians comfort each other with the thought, “God never gives you more than you can handle.” I used to believe that. I used to think that God wouldn’t give us more than we could bear.

But of course He does.

David’s life was full of unbearable betrayal, fear, and heartache. Paul talks about being burdened beyond his strength (2 Cor. 1:8).

In the middle of life’s simple joys, there are hard places. There are times we cannot lift up our heads. There are days we cannot face alone.

And that is exactly the point. God doesn’t want us to handle it. He wants our heartache to drive us to His arms. He wants us to lean hard into Him.

He wants to carry our burden.

The eternal God is a dwelling place and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)

Marissa, your daddy loves you.

We didn’t begin our married life thinking we would have a houseful of children, but we saw them as a blessing. We welcomed each one with the same kind of excitement, the same kind of awe. They were precious gifts from our kind Father.

Your dad loved the little ones. He held and rocked and bounced with endless patience. He worked so hard and sometimes in the evenings he would fall asleep on the floor with children jumping all around him, happy to be surrounded by love.

You know how hard he works, how almost every moment of his day is poured out for us. You know how much he loves God. You know how much he wants all of his children to love God. Some things you know.

But there are things you don’t know–how the only tears I have seen him cry have been over his children or how much he wants to take this trial from you. You don’t know that sometimes in the night when we are both awake, he comes into your room and prays. You don’t know how much he loves.

But there is One who loves you more. He formed you and wrote your days in His book. He gave His only Son to rescue you from sin. His Word is filled with promises for you. He loves you with an everlasting love.

You don’t know how much He loves. But it is worth finding out.

So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. 1 John 4:16

We thought the party would have to be canceled. Hurricane Joaquin was moving up the east coast and we were expected to get dangerous amounts of rain. But we moved the location inside, and as the day wore on it looked like we could go ahead.

Marissa was looking forward to seeing people she loved. She wanted to face them on a happy occasion where it wouldn’t be awkward for anyone. She wanted to put them at ease.

The house began to fill with people. There must have been over a hundred who came out in the cold rain to hug her and tell her they loved her. They shared stories and memories and laughter. The house overflowed with love.

I don’t remember when I have ever been so overwhelmed with the kindness of others as I have been these past weeks. At every turn, someone has helped, someone has lightened our load, someone has lifted us up.

“Let us be the hands and feet of Jesus,” a friend said. And we have felt that gentle, compassionate love this week. We have experienced it in warm meals, thoughtful cards, and helpful gifts. We have seen it in tear-filled eyes. We have heard it in whispered words of grace.

We have seen Jesus in you.

Walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. Ephesians 5:2

Yesterday was a good day. Yesterday was a hard day.

I woke with a physical ache in my chest, and it followed me all through the rainy, cold day. I sang songs, I breathed deeply, I spoke truth, I prayed.  And still, the pain.

Because you know what? I don’t want to be buying slippers to keep my daughter’s feet warm during chemo. I don’t want to search for hats to keep her head covered when her beautiful, soft curls fall out. I don’t want this next year to be filled with pain.

I walked into the warmth of my home and felt some relief. I hugged my husband hard. I marveled at the kindness of friends, filling our home with flowers and food and love. I listened to my children and the language of family. I watched my daughter laugh.

But in the end I cried. I cried and my daughters held me. I cried and it was better.

God is not disappointed with us when we cry. He remembers our frame. He keeps count of our tossings. He puts our tears in a bottle.

It’s okay to cry.

You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Psalm 56:8

Happy 25th birthday to my brave, sweet, beautiful girl.

I remember your birth so well. You were in a hurry to be born and you have been full of joyful energy ever since. You were a gift, a treasure from God.

I remember first noticing your love of children when the twins were born. You were almost 11 and Kendrea was 9, and the two of you carried them and played with them and sang to them. Now you teach a room full of children every day. I have seen you work with them, and you have a unique gift of understanding them, loving them and teaching them.

You are a favorite sister. You are the first to suggest something fun, whether it is wrestling with the boys or watching a family movie. But you are also a good listener and counselor, a good friend, a good roommate.

I don’t remember when I first noticed that people were drawn to you, but I have watched you gather friends from every age group. You have an exuberance for life that people love, and you are genuinely interested in others.

You are a lover of God. You accepted Jesus into your heart when you were a small child, but it was in your teenage years when someone very close to you turned from faith and God that you confirmed what you believe. Since then I have watched you navigate life with eternity in view.

Today is your birthday. Today you will be celebrated. Today you will open gifts.

But Marissa, your greatest gifts will come in this next, hard year. Your heavenly Father will give you packages each day to open exactly when you need them–His words, alive and powerful; His strength, lifting you when you are falling; His love, sure and steady through the darkest storm; His peace, like a blanket of goodness warming your soul. There is an endless supply of these gifts and a kind Friend Who carries them.

I love you, Rissa. Happy birthday.

We received some discouraging news last night.

We were all hanging on until today when Marissa would get her PET scan and final diagnosis. It felt like some sort of finish line before the next race began. It seemed like we could relax a little, breathe deeply for the first time in three weeks when it was over. The fear that the cancer has spread would be settled. Then yesterday we received word that our insurance had denied the test. So now we will be waiting another whole week for two other tests to give us similar information.

A week isn’t a long time. A week flies by. Except when you’re waiting to see if your daughter’s cancer has been “upgraded” from a curable stage to the next one. The one we don’t want to think about.

Optimism is different than trust. Hope is different than trust. Trust is anchoring ourselves in God’s sufficiency. It is actively letting go of anxiety. It is resting in His providence. It is feeling safe in the midst of turmoil.

So we are speaking truth to ourselves. We are not trusting in test results, statistics, or words of men to ease our anxiety. We are trusting in the perfect providence of God.

Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You. Psalm 143:8

Things always seem worse in the middle of the night. There is a vulnerability that doesn’t exist in the light. During the day, you can distract yourself with people and responsibilities and work. But in the night it is just you and God; just your heart hammering against your chest and God whispering to your soul.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night,” even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You. (Psalm 139:11, 12)

There have been so many tests and decisions this week and some big, scary unknowns. But they are all known to God. This darkness is not dark to Him.

This darkness is exactly like light.

We didn’t think it was cancer. There was a whirlwind of tests, and everyone was being so kind and upbeat and cheerful, and she was so young! But it was lurking in the back of our minds, and it had been lurking in her young body for quite awhile.

She sat on the table with her paper gown grasped awkwardly around her. We were talking about where we would eat lunch afterwards. We were holding back the fear. The doctor came in and started speaking, and it took a few moments for the truth of his words to hit us. I jumped up on the table and held her from behind. And now the fear was in the room with us and we could no longer hold it back.

Marissa was just telling me the other day about how when she was a little girl and she had to do something that scared her, she would repeat Psalm 56:3 over and over to herself. “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” In her little mind, the repetition of this simple truth was enough to allow her to do the hard thing ahead.

And so we are repeatedly speaking truth to ourselves so we can do the hard thing ahead. God isn’t telling us we won’t be afraid. God is telling us to trust in Him.