For we walk by faith, not by sight.

Hudson--in his deep restful sleep before the bottom fell out

My niece Casie, who's two year old son has been battling cancer for the past year and a half asked me to write my perspective on what happened yesterday....this is it. You can learn more about our little warrior at  http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/hudsonkatzer 

I have a blog I write on about spiritual lessons learned. Yet I have in the past year and a half written nothing about the struggles of Casie’s and Dave’s battle with this monster cancer in Hudson’s little body. I somehow knew I could not begin to know what I was talking about if I were to do so. 

I was right. 

Yesterday I went to Kansas City per Casie’s request to have people on site who would pray for Hudson during this 4^th round of anti-body. Like number two it was a duel med round and they were anticipating problems like before; extra prayer covering made sense. 

When I arrived yesterday, my first reaction was how exhausted Casie looked. She had been up on and off all night. Lest you think of blissful days with your newborn, think again. The nurses had found Hudson in a mess of blood from his IV tube leaking all over his bed. Other things kept happening after that, and sleep was simply a luxury she never got to experience prior to the second, and first full day, of the treatments; the day that the troubles, if they were to have them, were going to start.  

Questions with Dr’s and nurses filled the first hour I was there over protocol. Why were things being done this round that hadn’t been done the round before? She wanted and needed answers, not just to question people, or cause trouble, but for Hudson’s safety and her own piece of mind. I got to see the mother bear in my niece come out, yes she is related to her aunts, but I was proud of her candor with everyone, and also her sensitivity to their position. All was explained, and yes, it was good she had asked questions, as Hudson’s Dr., like some many in the overworked medical community, was unaware of some things. As I sat and listened and watched I was praying silently for Casie and the Dr’s and nurses. After all wasn’t that what I was there for? 

As issues got explained and the morning rolled on, Hudson slept, a peaceful deep sleep that Casie assured me was just what we wanted. His fever had been up and his heart rate elevated, but the Tylenol seemed to bring it down, and all was better. Prayer was being answered. 

Around 3:30 we noticed Hudson scratching his neck. Earlier in the day he has pulled off a “lead”, one of those little sticky patches they use to hook monitors up to, so we were watching him to make sure he didn’t do it again.  Bright red patches began to form. I’ve seen hives several times in my life, and Casie saw them too, so she called the nurse. Another of the myriad of medications that he is entitled to during this time was given, with a word to watch him for any issues that would signal an allergic reaction, even though he had been given it many times before. 

We continued to pray and chat. But I must interject something here. On my drive to Kansas City, earlier in the day I felt the leading of the Holy Spirit to rub Hudson’s feet. As it turned out, through the course of the day, it was about the only part of his little body he would allow anyone to touch without crying out “No! No! No!”.  

After the administration of the meds, I again lifted the blanket to rub those little feet, and noticed that his toenails were purple. I mentioned this to Casie, who immediately started watching him even more closely, if that is possible. She is so in tune to him, and what he is experiencing, and looking for those subtle changes, that nothing escapes her; the result of a year and a half of fighting for your child’s life. As I continued to rub and massage those feet, he grew paler and paler, and his lips began to turn blue, we noticed a change in his breathing.

She called the nurse, his temp had spiked, and his heart rate was up; way up and rising. The nurse called the PA, who called the Dr., who ran up four flights of stairs, and within minutes they were struggling to get a good blood pressure reading, and the room began filling up with people. They unhooked him from everything, the morphine, the antibodies, the other drips, all unhooked. Cold packs were applied to his head—after all it had worked before—it didn’t work this time. Finally I saw the Dr. pick him up and move him to the crib. The crying began in earnest as Hudson kept reminding them in his furtive pleading, “DONE! DONE! DONE!” and “NO! NO! NO!” Casie was in the midst of all of this while Dave was skirting the Dr’s backs, pacing and watching.  More people came, the crash cart was called, oxygen was hooked up, and there simply didn’t seem to be enough room at the side of that crib for all the people. The room kept filling up; a security guard walked down the hall and stood on the other side of the hall from me, watching. I felt the presence of someone and turned to find a kind smiling lady, who introduced herself as the Chaplin. 

I knew we were in trouble by all the people running, yes they were running, to the room, but a Chaplin?!! 

His heart rate was dangerously high, 224 at my last good look at the monitor and rising. The looks of concern of the two Dr’s in the room, and the other people as well assured me that something was going horribly wrong. There were nurses and aids, who have worked with Casie and Dave throughout this whole ordeal, standing in the hall, watching and waiting. I began to feel my knees shake, and I couldn’t really think too clear. But I was pleading with God, begging, and crying out that He stop whatever it was that was going on and help that baby, and his parents.  I realized at that moment, that many words aren’t prayer. Prayer is an attitude, how-be-it one of desperation.  

He was going to be taken down to the PICU where they could administer another drug to bring the heart rate down. It was now high enough that had it been you or I we would have passed out. The drug they needed to give him since the first three syringes hadn’t done the trick, could only be administerd in the PICU. 

I stood in the hall and waited, straining to hear, watching every face that came and went from that room, searching for a sign of hope. 

I don’t know for sure just when things began to improve, but people began to leave. Eventually, the oxygen and the crash cart were pushed out with the EKG machine and the defibrillator among other things. The looks of concern turned to a sort of half smile as everyone began to speak in normal tones. I caught a glimpse of the heart monitor and the rate was dropping.  I still could not see Casie among those by the bed. Someone told me it was O.K. to go back into the room. I did. 

Casie was pale, her eyes wide, Dave was pale, the Dr’s were both more serious than I’d seen them all day, and as they spoke with the kids, it was almost a whisper. He would not be moved to the PICU, throughout the entire ordeal his BP was normal, his oxygen was normal, only the heart rate was elevated. Something they had never encountered before (remember this IS Hudson). He would have more tests, and be re-attached to the morphine drip, and antibodies, in a few hours after test results came back. 

As the adrenalin rush began to subside I finally made eye to eye contact with Casie. We hugged and we cried, and we hugged some more.  

To say I have a new perspective on what Casie and David are living with would still be a huge understatement; I don’t, but I do, to a degree. I was humbled to my core at the realization that until you have lived the nightmares of watching your baby endure cancer treatments you cannot possibly relate to anything they describe or tell you. Really, don’t think you can, nothing in this world can be like standing there helplessly waiting for them to “fix” it, when deep down you know “they” can’t; only God can. 

To live a day in this world is exhausting, let alone a year and a half. The adrenal rush of moments like this cannot be good for the body, and I ask myself on the way home, how many of those experiences since this all started have they gone through? 

Listening to Hudson plead to be left alone when he feels so horribly bad would break the heart of any one, let alone his parents…..I will never forget the sounds of  those cries. And I hope I don’t.  I hope that this day has taught me a lesson in empathy that will deepen my resolve to pray. 

Pray……yes that is what I did all day. Some might say it made things worse, others would testify to the evidence of a spiritual battle that is going on over the life of a tiny little boy who, in the huge scheme of things, for some, might not understand the significance. But there are forces at work in this world, and if you say you believe in God and are a follower of Jesus Christ, you cannot deny the Word of truth when it says,  

 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. --
Eph 6:12

I interject this because prior to my going to KC, my sisters and I had agreed to pray in a concerted effort at 4 p.m., and others who knew of it agreed to pray with us at that time as well.  Hudson began to itch at 3:30, just prior to prayer time. By the time 4 o’clock rolled around, the battle was raging. God won---again. He will continue to win. But without those prayers? We may never know but I’m still willing to go on faith. Faith in God, because when it comes right down to it, after what I saw today, it is all we have. 

May His name be Praised!

When God Sends You a Gift

It is July in Kansas, and for anyone who is familiar with that it means it is hot and humid, and yet no lasting rains if any at all.  

We have suffered with a drought in this part of the country for the past few years. Things are somewhat better this year, but we are still way under the needed rainfall.  It has been a long time since we have had a series of rainy drizzly days in a row, where everything received a good soaking. Anytime anyone talks about praying for anything, rain is always one of the first things mentioned; we are dry. 

So the other night when Roger and I were watching a movie where one of the characters had the wall in her cubicle covered with post cards from countries and places where she wanted to go I said out loud, “You know where I want to go?”  Without waiting for a response from Roger, I continued, “Somewhere where it is raining.” 

Rogers’s response was a reminder of a couple of years ago when he and Audrey and I took a trip to Wisconsin. It was after the tourist season, toward the end of Sept. but the entire time we were there, it rained. The first day we stayed in our cabin, while it rained a steady rain All. Day. Long.  We took naps, put a puzzle together and watched old movies on tv.  The rest of the time, it rained just about everywhere we went. Many people would have considered their vacations ruined by such weather, but we thought it was wonderful, and we didn’t complain. Audrey is from the desert and we were in the midst of a drought. We loved the rain, the sound of it, the smell of it, and the feel of it on our faces.  So my comment immediately brought that time to mind for both Roger and I. 

We sat and continued to watch our movie, and after just a few minutes we noticed a sound at the window. I looked at Roger and asked, “What is that noise?” He muted the TV and we listened. He smiled and said, “It’s raining.” 

We both got up and opened the door. Off to the west it was clear as a bell, blue sky and the setting sun, but over our house it was pouring rain. That’s right, pouring! It was even thundering! I stepped out into it. I felt it on my face, I could smell it, and I could hear it and see it. I looked up and laughed right out loud and thanked God for the rain…without me having to leave home. 

Roger commented that I was going to get wet, and I smiled at him and stepped out further as I said, “Sure, but when God sends you a gift, you HAVE to open it!” 

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom can be no variation, neither shadow that is cast by turning.”  James 1:17

Learning to Appreciate

“I believe it’s shingles.”

“What?” I replied, with what I’m sure was a ‘you’re off your rocker, lady’, look on my face.

“You do know what shingles are,”  Her eye’s getting larger, “don’t you?”

“Yes, I know what shingles are.” I replied

 I wanted to tell her, “sure I know what shingles are, my husband is a builder, you put them on the roofs of houses, you DON’T get them on your body!!”

“Well I’ll write you some prescriptions, and ……………….”

I looked at her and raised my voice just a tad interrupting…  “Are you SURE it’s shingles? Not just a bug bite or a rash or something!?”

She stopped talking, cleared her throat, and smiled, “I’m sure that is what it is.” All the while thinking, ‘yep, this gal knows more about denial than the fact it is a river in Africa.’

As she continued on about prescriptions, and treatment, and duration, and symptoms, I can’t imagine the expression on my face. She was kind, spoke slowly and made sure that I knew what I had ahead of me.

Thanks for the heads up…..

So as I gingerly sit here at home, experiencing pain that is right up there close to 10 on that scale they always ask you about, I’m trying to keep my sense of humor about the location and limitations this has brought into my life. 

The down side, (no pun intended), I can’t sit in a chair for very long, I am most comfortable lying in bed, and the whole thing is just the pits.

The up side, I get to lie around A LOT, (UGH!!) and the pain pills make me sleep more than I think I have during my entire life; “catching up on sleep” has taken on a whole new meaning. I’m beginning to feel like Rip Van Winkle.

You know the saying…….. “We never appreciate good health until we don’t have it.”

I’m learning to be appreciative.   

Easter and Rights

Jesus never addressed the issue of homosexuality specifically in the gospels. Perhaps that is because He, being God, had a way of keeping things in perspective that the rest of us seem to struggle with. 

Sin is Sin.  

Jesus was big on rights though. The story of the woman caught in adultery comes to mind. Nobody was screaming about her rights, and when Jesus stepped into the midst of the scene, no one’s rights were addressed. He didn’t condone her lifestyle, behavior, or choices. He could see firsthand she was living with the consequences of all of it. But he did address her treatment by mankind…..that before they go “casting stones” they would do a self check of their own hearts and see if any of them were worthy to judge and punish. They were not. 

The entire Bible is the word of God, and Jesus is referred to over and over in that word as “The Word”, he also quoted it many times and referred to the prophets throughout the gospel accounts. Let’s just say, He knew what the Bible said. 

He never addressed the issue of drunkenness either, yet he hung out with drunks. Obviously his feelings about their lifestyle of "winebibbing" didn’t affect his relationships with them.  

In all this issue of “gay rights” this week our family has been hit by some sad news. A friend of ours, a gay friend, who is a recovering drug addict is probably going to lose their job due to a positive drug test, and has been diagnosed with HIV.  

Sort of puts things in perspective huh? 

All the “rights” in the world won’t change the fact that this person is now dealing with consequences of their choices; choices that I personally had no part in. But will we, as a family, help them deal with those consequences? You bet we will.  

You see our friendship and love doesn’t have anything to do with “rights”. And I know that as our friend shared this news their “rights” were the last thing on their mind. Abandonment, shame, sorrow and fear were the paramount issues that came up.  Who wants to experience those? 

They know our beliefs on homosexuality, but more importantly, they know we believe in a Savior who has called us to love unconditionally. They have seen our family in action enough to know that they could come to us, fall on us, share with us, and open themselves up because our love of Jesus and them would affect our behavior and response. They are counting on our love; God’s love that comes through us. Our rights, their rights aren’t really gonna matter in the midst of this fallout from the consequences of choices, but our love for Jesus will; and they know that. Isn’t that what we want them to know?

This is Holy Week, Good Friday has come and gone. The hopelessness that the disciples felt that Friday is surrounding our friend right now. I want them to know that “Sunday is coming”, both literally and figuratively. Jesus died for them as much as He did for me. He makes no distinction. He died for us all. And He rose from the dead for ALL of us too. Jesus death and resurrection is for everyone. The big question for me here is; how can I help our friend know THAT Jesus, that the peace I have, they will have too? Even in the midst of the coming storm? Isn’t that the ultimate help and healing, which I would and should want for everyone?

As I pray for our friend, I ask you to join me. There are dark and hard days ahead for them. I will pray for them as I would anyone else and minister as I can. Only Jesus really knows the condition of their heart. I will keep this in mind, and ask for Jesus to help me with the condition of mine, and perhaps He will heal and restore all of us to the people He desires us to be.

A Snapshot of Heaven

I have pictures of family up all over my house; little collages of familiar faces in almost every room. 

If not a collage, a large predominate picture; I even have a picture frame that shows a slide show of those faces. 

People I have known all my life, or have known me all of theirs.  

Many or most of the pictures evoke memories of favorite times together; others are faces that we love to see on a regular basis, so there they are.  

I love my family. I realized yesterday, filling out a survey, that yes, my life does and has revolved around my family for most of my life. These people are important to me. Some might say too important. That I haven’t lived the life I could or might have if I hadn’t been so involved and wrapped up in my family. 

 

But looking at it from the perspective that I look at most things—an eternal one—they are the only thing from this world that I get to take with me to the next one. 

I won’t take what is in my bank account, my house, or what is in it, my car or my clothes, shoot, I’m hoping for a new body that cooperates and works a little better than the one I have here. 

That is why it is important to me that my family—yes all of them—know what the next step is in this life we live. It doesn’t end here…..it goes on, like stepping from one room to another. 

I know the "here" is important, the laughter, the trips, the “family bonding”, as my kids love to call it, but I also know that this is all just a prelude to the actual living that we will all be doing together when we get to heaven. We have had some family moments that have been so wonderful, that right in the midst of them, I have known without a shadow of a doubt that I am getting a glimpse of heaven.  

With the holidays approaching, where we are going to be spending time with our families, and we capture faces for the galleries on our walls, take a minute to stop and breathe it in. Freeze frame it in your mind and give thanks to God for those glimpses into paradise. And remember that the most important family member, Jesus Christ, must be featured prominently in each and every picture, for he will be there in the final portrait.