For Joey

For Joey;

All of us know grief.  This world and this life are filled with it – for some more than others it seems but we have all been touched by it in some way.  I have lost immediate family members and been close to many others who have as well – even just this past weekend.  I know the grief that feels like a 200 pound weight on your chest and wrap your soul in a darkness that seems both unbearable and inescapable - but I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child. 

Unfortunately, I have imagined it a thousand times - probably more like two thousand actually, but I'm not counting.  About a year or so after my son Daniel was born, I began having nightmares about losing him – not just here and there but every night!  They were terrible, graphic, vivid dreams about not being able to save my son and having to watch him die.  I would wake up each morning in a cold sweat and shaking from having experienced some new and horrifying way of losing my son that was somehow my fault.  Every gray hair I currently have appeared over the next few years, not as a result of having a son – being a parent – but as a direct result of those dreams of losing him I am convinced.  There was a lot going on spiritually that I won’t take the time to go into here, but let’s just say the warfare was intense, and I now have a lot of gray hairs to prove it.

Until those dreams started, I had never experienced any fear, horror, or grief like I did during those thoughts and dreams.  For the several years that it lasted, it was the darkest and most difficult period of my life … until January 2012 … when Daniel was diagnosed with cancer.  I tried to describe a bit of what I was feeling in those early blog posts.  It had been awhile since I had finally overcome the bulk of the nightmares, but suddenly every one of them came back home to roost in that moment sitting in the recovery room with the doctor and the test results.  The initial estimates were for a 65% chance of “successful treatment”.  My ears roared, my vision closed in, my heart pounded, my stomach flipped, my throat closed up, my soul screamed in agony, and the world stopped turning

Though there were several ups and downs in the early days of his diagnosis and treatment, we eventually discovered that his form of leukemia was in fact one with a much higher (around 90-95%) success rate and the clouds began to clear a little.  Yet 2012 has been a year filled with constant wrestling against fear and struggling to hold on to faith and learning to trust God for every single second.  I watched my mom die a long and painful death from cancer the year I graduated college.  I've watched aunts, uncles, cousins, my mother-in-law go through it - some successfully, some not.  My wife Andrea was diagnosed with leukemia in 2010 and then my only son Daniel in 2012.

I hate cancer!

As my world began to spin again - in an entirely new direction - one filled with oncologists and hematologists and a new language of medical terms and procedures and protocols and charts - I found myself immersed again in the world of cancer and the people affected by it.

It was then that I met the Kellers and their son Joey.  As it happened, Daniel and Andrea had already known Joey and Elizabeth for some months.  Daniel and Joey had shared classes together at our homeschool co-op and Andrea knew Elizabeth from there as well.  As we began to cross paths more often at the hospital - both as in-patients and at the out-patient clinic, I got to know Joey and Elizabeth and eventually Nick, Joey's father.  Nick and I hit it off immediately.  We recognized in one another the same depth of passion, compassion, and willingness to do anything to save the lives of our sons.  Andrea and Elizabeth shared the same kind of connection as mothers.

I'll not tell the much more of the story here except to say that the four of us discovered in one another not only a deep love for God and His Word, but also a shared journey ... a quest ... to learn all we could about how to appropriate God's supernatural healing power for the sake of our families.  Though we didn't often get a chance to talk face-to-face, when we did we often commented on each other's blog posts, shared experiences, compared notes about what other people said and did and their comments, etc.  Without really knowing one another that well, we became very close in a way that I believe only God can orchestrate.

As late Summer and early Fall of 2012 began, Joey began to have serious problems again.  We prayed and prayed and prayed.  Joey, Nick, and Elizabeth and all they were going through grabbed my heart and wouldn't let go.  When Joey started having seizures in late September, I organized on-line round-the-clock prayer vigils for him and we saw truly amazing - I believe "miraculous" - results.  Dozens if not hundreds of people and families and prayer groups were praying for Joey constantly.  My own family - the 3 of us - were praying together with fervency and regularity like never before.  And for awhile, Joey rallied and we hoped and prayed hard and believed that God would grant our thousands upon thousands of requests, and spare Joey's life from this awful disease.

But in the end, it was not to be.  If human beings could, by force of will, influence the health of another, or if there were some inherent power in prayer itself, Joey would most certainly still be with us today.  But prayer is never about changing God's mind or somehow "forcing" God's will to bend to our own - though many seem to think this is so.  The Word tells us to ask God for what we want and to "pray believing" that He will grant us what we ask, but it is abundantly clear that God is sovereign and perfect in His wisdom and knowledge and power as well as his grace and love.  The Word is clear that God always does what is right and best and good, whether we understand it or not.  In this case, it is now clear that God's will was to "graduate" Joey from this life to his reward far sooner than we all would have liked.  And as absolutely heart-wrenching as it was to lose Joey, all those of us who know the Lord are, despite the grief, immeasurably happy for Joey and the perfect, "ultimate" healing that God granted him.  Shortly after the news of his loss, I found a picture through which God spoke directly to my heart and brought me some measure of peace for Joey.  Actually, I found several, but this one in particular ministered to me powerfully and continues to do so.  I still cannot look at it without breaking down.  It allowed me to "release" him into the arms of my Lord and to find some measure of peace and even joy for Joey's sake.

However, with that said, I can also state that this has been one of the 2 or 3 worst weeks of my entire life.  Because although I can actually bring myself to be happy for Joey, my heart is tied so very deeply to Nick and Elizabeth and their parents that I have felt utterly devastated - crushed under the weight of their loss and the future they must move into without their precious little boy.  I'd like to say I cannot imagine what they're going through, but the fact is, I have imagined it - a thousand times.  And yet I know that even my worst nightmares can never compare to the reality our friends are going through.  After all, I woke up from every nightmare I ever had.  Yet there is such a deep connection to their journey, their faith, their struggles, and their loss, that I was barely able to function for days afterward and still find myself in tears as often as not.  I wish there were something - anything - I could do to ease their pain, to share the load of their burden, or to bring comfort to them in these dark hours.  But only God can do that, and so I continue to pray ... for their comfort, peace, strength, courage, and faith to remain strong.  We remain committed to the Kellers and their parents to stand with them, pray for them, and serve them in any way that we might be able.  And though I realize that they will never fully recover from being separated from their son so early and in such a terrible fashion, we do pray that the Lord will bind up their broken hearts, wipe away their tears, strengthen their marriage and their relationship to Him, and help them to find a positive way to honor Joey's memory and legacy until they are reunited with him again.

Were Our Prayers in Vain?
No.  Absolutely not.  No prayer of honest concern and desire to help another is ever given in vain.  And no prayer by one who belongs to the Lord goes unheard.  Though I do remain confused about some of the things I had believed that I and others (including Joey Himself) heard about God's intent to heal Joey back to health in this world, I also believe that our prayers were effective in many ways in God's plan.  Without question (in my mind) we saw God answer our prayers for Joey MANY times over the past year (and many others have been praying for Joey much longer than that).  We saw cancer disappear from his MRI scans entirely. We saw him healed from the seizures despite the medical staff stating that they didn't know what was causing it and didn't know what to do for him.  We saw him rally back multiple times in multiple ways over the course of these last several months and I believe that in each of those cases, God was working through the many, many prayers of the faithful being offered on Joey's behalf.  I know that I personally felt a strong burden for prayer and was, like several others, awakened even during the night to pray for Joey and his parents during particularly difficult times.  For me personally, it really wasn't until the last few days that I even had any trouble praying with faith that God was going to continue to heal Joey and keep him with us.  I don't know or understand what changed at the end. Perhaps someday we will, perhaps not.  But I am tremendously happy and blessed to have had the privilege of having been burdened for Joey these past several months and to have put in the many hours of prayer on his behalf.  I believe every one of the prayers offered by members of Team Joey were effective and used to Joey's benefit and God's glory.  And ultimately, God provided Joey with a perfect healing from his suffering and disease in a way he could never have enjoyed in this life.

How I Knew, And Will Remember Joey:
I regret that I never knew Joey when he was healthy.  The only images I have of him are without any hair and most often in a hospital bed or wheel chair.  But far stronger than those images of his illness, are the impressions I have of his maturity, especially spiritually.  Through my own direct experience as well as through conversations with Nick and Elizabeth and their parents, and through Nick's various CaringBridge and Facebook posts, I came to realize that Joey has a wisdom and maturity WAY beyond his years.  He has developed a profoundly deep and personal love for Jesus and it was frequently Joey who brought encouragement, strength, and balance to conversations and worries of others around him - even his own parents.  In Nick's CaringBridge post announcing Joey's passing, he made the statement, "I can only hope to run a race as strong, and focused, and effective as you. In spiritual terms, I look up to you."  I know he meant every word of it because he said the same thing to me on more than one occasion.  And even for as short a time as I've known Joey, I feel the same way.  Joey is for me and for so very many others, a model of strength, wisdom, and maturity in many ways.

We know that God uses adversity in our lives to mold and shape us - as a "refining fire" through which we are purified and mettle tested.  It is my opinion that the sheer volume of adversity that Joey went through in his short time on this planet was probably sufficient, in God's hands, to accomplish all the work in him so often takes God an entire lifetime to accomplish in most of the rest of us.  Though I initially thought of Joey's passing as being a race "cut short", further reflection on who he is and how he behaved caused me to think that, perhaps, he just finished his race that much faster than the rest of us!  Certainly he has finished his race well and will receive a reward for this valiant fight that most of the rest of us will only be able to look upon in awe.  I am confident that God will continue to work through Joey's legacy in this life for many years to come and will bless countless other children through it.

Though Joey barely knew me, he has already had an enormous impact on myself and my family in our prayer lives, my understanding and experience with prayer and healing, and even our conversations and experience with cancer and hospitals ... an area that we will continue to look to his example in the months and years ahead of us.

As this Thanksgiving Day draws to a close, I realize despite the enormous grief I have been under this week, how very thankful I am to know Joey, his parents, his grandparents, and so many of the other friends from around the country and around the world that comprise "Team Joey".  And though in my own limited wisdom, I would so much rather have had him around with us for much, MUCH longer, I am grateful that I will carry these memories of him him as a great soul - someone who at barely 9 years of age, ran the race so as to win - and won.  And one day soon, I'll see him again in Glory, as a man, full of life and health and unencumbered by the trials he faced in this world.  If I can finish even half as strong as Joey Keller, I'll be a happy man when I meet my Lord face-to-face.

- Tim -

On the Eve of Battle

Mirroring our CaringBridge post: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal

As I write this, Daniel has just gotten to sleep after fighting it all night, not wanting to face the morning.  Yesterday evening was an even bigger battle as the weekend came to a close and he began to get caught up in anxiety about Tuesday's clinic appointment.  Our week-long hiatus is now over after his bout with the flu last weekend.  And tomorrow (Tues) morning will be our next try at starting the last major phase of treatment.  However, it is "count dependent" (his blood cell counts will have to be above a certain level in order to start the treatment).  

Personally, I'll be really surprised if they are high enough. He's still had a bad cough throughout the past week and Andrea has REALLY been down hard with it (exposing all of us to the same bug continually).  If Daniel's counts are high enough after this past week, it'll be a minor miracle in itself.  We're all of very mixed emotions about it.  We'd like to see him have a chance to rest more, but we also want to get moving and get this over with!

However, the blood counts are always a 50/50 shot and completely unpredictable - so who knows.  But once we hit that magic number, we'll be jumping off into what we HOPE is the last really major battle of this war.  There will be no more "count dependent" holds along the way and after this phase, we're into "maintenance" which is at least a LITTLE bit easier.  Of course, there is always the danger lurking of ongoing side effects, infections, or even a relapse. So we take nothing for granted.

When this last portion does start, it's going to be a tough 4 weeks for Daniel.  It will involve 3 spinal taps, 2 rounds of 4-day home chemo treatments, and another face-off with the 18 injections in his legs (6 days of 3-shots each spread over 1-1/2 weeks), plus several other IV infusions and oral chemo drugs along the way.  It's no wonder he's dreading it.  The huge numbers of needles he's seen over the past 8 months have done nothing to lessen his dread of them, and his battles with nausea have been increasing lately, and none of us are really sure which drugs or combinations of drugs cause that to happen yet.

In addition to staring this enemy in the face, he's now lost nearly all of his hair.  Andrea talked him into getting it cut short (a military cut), and while that is almost certainly a better way to go, it's also had the effect of making the little bit he has left appear almost unnoticeable.  It was already sparse and is so thin and light in color that it appears almost gone.  Closer examination does indeed show large bald spots, and only very thin patches left everywhere else.  It's bothering him a lot and had him in tears last night as he really wrestled with the fear of what lay ahead as he was going to bed.

If you've been following along, you'll note that we've been going through a new interest in WW-II things.  This began with a new video game for his Wii that I bought for him, but I've been capitalizing on it with other things as well.  Last night we finished watching the mini-series "Band of Brothers", and tonight we went through a bunch of the Special Features stuff in the DVD package.  I tried to capitalize on this as we talked last night and tonight.  I told him that anybody who knows ANYTHING about cancer or chemo therapy understands why your hair is falling out.  It's not something of shame, it's a testament to your courage and to all the difficulty you've been through to those who see you.  It is your "Medal of Honor" that you earned in battle and you should be proud of it, not ashamed of it or embarrassed by it.  I saw a tear roll down his cheek as I said these things and talked about using God's Word, Armor, and Weaponry that He's given us to "set up defensive perimeters around our hearts and minds" (Eph 6:10-18; Phil 4:6-7), and taking enemy thoughts that try to attack us as "prisoners" and sending them back to HQ (2 Cor 10:5).  I don't know what the tear meant and I didn't dig.  I talked to him about the "Peace that passes understanding" and "resisting" our enemy so that he would flee from us (Jas 4:7), and keeping our eyes peeled for the escape route that God provides for us (1 Cor 10:13) until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.  

Some time, I'll talk to him more about what's going on underneath it all and whether my words helped at all. But for right now, I'm calling in for long-range artillery support ... that would be YOU dear readers.  

I've described the precise coordinates of our various enemies on the battle map and need you to take aim at them and let them have it.  We're pinned down at the moment and looking forward to being relieved after this next big battle.  The name of the town before us is "Delayed Intensification Phase - Part B" and we may very well be assaulting it in the morning ... or the attack may be postponed until we get enough replacements to get back up to our full compliment (of blood cells) before going in.  Either way, our objective is clear and there's no going back.  The only way to victory is FORWARD!  And our Commanding Officer has never lost a battle, so we'll leave the decision making to Him. We'll follow Him anywhere!!

Please forgive the military tenor here, but one day he'll read this and (I hope) appreciate it. :-)  Until then, whether this is reaching Daniel or not, it's at least been helpful for me to see things in this way as it helps keep perspective.  There are a number of enemies facing us at this point.  Call them cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, fear, finances, stress and emotional distress, and even Satan himself.  But we have weapons, training, support, artillery (prayer partners), and close air support (the angels of heaven) at our Captain's command (Matt 26:53), and if we can keep focused on just following orders, then this battle too WILL be won.

Thanks for your indulgence, and thanks especially for the artill .. er ... prayer support!!  Now let's get some suppressing fire on those enemy positions and soften 'em up good so we can take this hill in the morning!!

Strength, Courage, and Honor,

- Tim -

P.S.  Please also remember to keep Joey and the Kellers in your prayers as well.  Their battle has been FAR more intense than ours and they are in desperate need of a good Cavalry charge right about now. http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/joeykeller  

A Mixed Bag

Mirrored on our CaringBridge site here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal


After a week's delay to the start of our last intensive phase (next comes "maintenance"), today Daniel's blood counts were high enough to start the "Delayed Intensification" phase.  We've been looking forward to this one with mixed emotions.  It has all the promise of indeed being intense, but we're also looking forward to getting to the other end of it.  There will be nothing easy about the next 3 years, but it will definitely be better than what we're facing for the next 2 months.

Today started with the "good" news of decent blood counts and being able to start phase IV, but has pretty much gone downhill from there.  Forgive me if this sounds like "venting", but that's what it is. It's been a tough day and I feel like sharing.  Sorry to make you the beneficiaries, but think of it as a rolling prayer request. ha ha.

As I write this, Daniel has thrown up all his dinner and is now fighting the dry heaves.  I think it's the extra heavy does of anesthetic he got, but not really sure.  Could also be any of the three chemo drugs he got along with it.

During the spinal tap procedure they had trouble getting him completely "out".  This has happened before and they just keep pumping the anesthesia into him until he goes out.  But once he was finally out (the procedure itself went fairly smoothly) his heart rate & blood pressure dropped dangerously low.  There was some concern for awhile, but he came back on his own and other than a little nausea, was doing fine and filling me in on all the components he needed to get in "Monster Hunter" (his favorite Wii game) to get to the next level.

I had gone into work this morning and was waiting for confirmation that his blood counts were a "go" before leaving for the hospital.  Unfortunately, they were WAY late in getting the blood drawn and by the time I got word that we were g2g - I had to FLY down to the hospital to get there in time.  By the time I got there, he was already in the O.R., prepped, and ready to go.  He was upset and nervous as usual and his pulse was already passing 100.  I took over from mom with a back & neck massage and started a conversation about Monster Hunter and we got it back down to the low 80s before the doctor arrived.  I prayed through most of the procedure (since, if you recall from previous posts, the only time I can't watch a medical procedure is when it's this doctor and my son.)  But other than a little trouble getting him "out", it went well this time (the doc's getting better! :)

Afterward, in the recovery room, we had the tense moments about the low B.P. and then Daniel was complaining of being cold.  We were informed that the knob had broken off the thermostat and the vent was directly over the bed. (Great engineering guys - NOT.)  

As Daniel continued to wake up, I had a fairly long conversation with the doctor expressing my growing frustration at not getting any traction on his continued lack of growth.  I think she finally "understood" me when I used the word "unacceptable".  But we'll see.  In fairness, this doctor is somewhat caught in the middle between me and the other doctors who are the ones that need to be looking at these other issues.  As the oncologist, what I'm after is not her specialty, yet she is the one through whom everything has to go.  Anyway, we'll see how this plays out.  I realize nothing is going to happen physically until we're through this intensive phase, but what I'm not happy with is that there is no discussion, no plan, no ownership, and no "next step" in place.  Is that the engineer, the project manager, or the DAD in me coming out?  Doesn't really matter - they're stuck with me.

As we prepared to leave, we go the low-down on what the rest of this phase will look like.  Unfortunately, one of the primary drugs they'd wanted to give him ("Pegallated Aspariginase") turns out to give him a fairly severe allergic reaction.  They tried twice and then gave up a couple months ago.  So the "plan B" is a different drug that has to be given 6 times (on 6 different days) for each single dose the Peg-Asp. would have been given.  This means we're heading back to Riley every other day for a week and a half each time.  

Hmmm. Didn't know that.  

We also found out, it can't be administered through his port.  It has to be given my intramuscular injection - in the thigh.  

Hmmm. Didn't know that.  

Depending on the dosage he'll receive (which they didn't have yet today), they may have to give half of it in two different locations ... one in each leg ... every other day ... for a week and a half ... and they HURT.

Hmmm. Didn't know that.

Daniel REALLY doesn't do well with needles (yes, even after all he's been through).  As they were describing to us where to apply the Lidocane (a topical anesthetic cream) before he comes in, he caught on.  We played it way down talking about how much smaller injection needles are than the blood-draw and access needles he's used to.  I think we made some progress there. But the fact that these injections will make the muscle hurt didn't come up.  That's going to be a big problem ... especially as they keep injecting into the same area every other day.  This will be rough ... very rough.

My mood was going downhill fast this afternoon.  As we left, we stopped by the pharmacy downstairs where the doctor had called in a prescription about 45 min earlier, only to be informed it would be another 30-45 minutes.  Great.

As we sat there waiting, Andrea and I were talking about some financial issues predicated by our Family Doctor that I won't go into except to say that it didn't do my deteriorating mood any good at all.  I left Andrea & Daniel in the pharmacy waiting area and headed back to work since we'd driven separately.  The rest of the day at work didn't go much better, but at least I got 7 hours in.  How productive they were was another matter as my head was in a million other places.

As I left work, I found myself at the tail end of the thunderstorm that blew through minutes earlier.  REALLY need the rain - but did it have to be right when I wanted to drive home ... and in the same direction.  I know - gift horses and all that.  As I pulled in the drive way, I was accosted by the pesky little neighbor girl who was adamant that she needed to come in the house with me - if not to play with Daniel (whom I told her was not feeling well), then to be allowed to cook the can of soup she was carrying around in our microwave.  What?!  So I got this convoluted story about how they don't have a microwave, and couldn't find the cord to the hot plate, and the stove costs too much money, and ... Um no; not playing this game.  You'll have to have your parents get you something to eat.  I'll have to find out what all that was about another time, but not tonight.

Since I got home, Daniel has been getting more and more nauseated until he finally lost all his dinner and now is fighting the dry heaves.  I can't even get an anti-nausea pill into him for fear it'll just come right back up.  He feels miserable.  The good news is that this has been a very rare thing for him to get this sick.  The bad news is that he's this sick.  He's supposed to start another oral chemo drug tonight, but I'm obviously not giving it to him in this condition.  He's had enough for one day, and it can wait an extra day.

Andrea has been through the ringer these past few days (actually, I could just as easily insert "weeks", "months" or "years" there too) as well.  We think she's had a stomach bug and the family doctor she visited yesterday thought the same thing.  She'd done a sleep study a couple weeks ago and this visit was supposed to be reviewing the results, but they didn't seem to notice that they hadn't yet received them from the hospital yet. So despite frantic, last-minute calls, that didn't happen.  So now there will be another office visit once the results are in.  They'll no-doubt prescribe another several pills for her to start taking that won't be covered by insurance and will add to the hand-full she takes every day as it is.  I think I'll be attending that next meeting as well if at all possible.  Hope I don't need to start looking for another family doctor again, but I won't hesitate if I think things are not going in the right direction.

OK, I'm going to stop there.  My apologies if you've made it this far.  I feel better. LOL. :)  The truth is, we have an ENORMOUS amount to be thankful for that we DO know about, and way more than we could dream of that we don't know about, but Scripture promises.  I have a wonderful family and we're together this day and the future looks bright - next month, next year, and 1000 years from now.  We have much goodness to look forward too.  We knew this phase was going to be a mountain that needed climbing.  It's height and ruggedness came a little more into view today, but it will just be that much sweeter to be on the other side of it WHEN we get there ... and we will.

Lord please let us learn ALL that you have planned for us in these coming days - don't let any single second of difficulty or pain or struggle be lost for the good that You desire to bring from it.  We cling desperately to your promise that A.L.L.(*) things work together into a pattern for good ... (Rom 8:28)  Thank you.  Thank you for everything about today. Thank you for loving us and being here beside us every step of the way and for keeping our eyes on the far horizon.  Teach us to trust, teach us to love, teach us to enjoy "life in every breath."

Amen!  Thanks to everyone who is also running this race alongside us or cheering or handing us a water bottle on the way by.  We love you and appreciate every one of you.  Please keep your prayers coming - they are by FAR what we value and covet the most.  

Please also remember to pray for Joey, Nick, and Elizabeth Keller as often as possible.

I'm off to set up the air mattress beside Daniel's bed for the night.  

Grace and Peace,

- Tim -

Daniel & Joey

Mirrored from http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal

Daniel & Joey


It's been a good couple of weeks for the Millers.  We completed Daniel's last "planned" hospital admission and thereby, the last portion of the "Interim Maintenance" phase of chemotherapy near the end of June.  We had about a week and a half of "vacation" before the start of the next phase (called "Delayed Intensification") and so we quickly put together Daniel's 10-1/2 year birthday party.  A few years ago, we moved his party to the summer time so he could do more with his friends, take advantage of warm weather, and not be lost in the midst of the December holidays. 

This year, it was a bit harder to get planned and executed, but other than the short notice to friends and family, it went off very well.  We even had great weather and temps below 90 at the very end of the heat wave.  God is good.  Daniel came home with more LEGOs and having had lots of fun with his friends and cousins as Southeastway Park.  Many thanks to all who attended - in person or in spirit.


Tuesday, we were to start the Delayed Intensification phase - the last intensive phase before going into "Maintenance" which will last about 3 years.  Unfortunately, his white blood cell count was too low and we were sent home to wait another week.  In truth, none of us were too upset.  The good news is that, although it will push out the end of this phase, it won't push out the final completion date.  But at this point, that's so far down the road, it's hardly even worth thinking about.  We'll be glad to get through this last intensive phase that none of us have been looking forward to.

In general, Daniel's energy and appetite have been slowly recovering and having the extra week off is probably a good thing.  I've been pushing him to get more sunshine (which ironically has been more difficult with the searing heat wave we just came through), fresh air and exercise.  We're getting there gradually, but the months of inactivity have led to some bad habits of video games, TV, and lounging around indoors that are proving hard to break.  Andrea has gotten him out for some play-days and a swim day recently though that's been good for him ... mostly.

The mysterious white cell count continues to bounce around all over the place though, and is often frustratingly low.  It's an indicator of his immune system (but not his actual health).  The Riley staff tell us that it could be almost anything that causes it to remain low, but is likely due to minor bacterial or viral infections.  I believe this must be due to exposure to various bugs "going around" either through Andrea & I having been exposed and bringing them home, or directly from interactions with his friends.  Andrea and I can't do much about our own exposures, so it's really difficult to try to find a balance between wanting to let him play with his friends and my instinct to want to keep him in a "bubble".  I believe very strongly that the psychological side of our health is every bit as important as the physical side.  If he stays lonely and depressed, I feel he's likely to remain more "sickly" than being able to laugh and run and play even if it means exposure to more infectious agents.  It's difficult to find the balance and the disagreements between Andrea and I have at times been rather unpleasant.  We're working through it and trying to find the best ways to communicate and find agreement in the day-to-day decisions and activities.

Unfortunately, Andrea's health has been quite a roller-coaster ride recently as well.  She's been knocked completely out of commission several times lately and has a lot of trouble just finding the energy (much less enthusiasm) to even get out of bed in the morning.  Her courage, character, (and Facebook) keep her going though. :-)  It does make it more challenging for me to try to keep up with work as well as the household chores.  Cleaning in particular is something I need to do a lot better at keeping up with for both Daniel's and Andrea's sakes.  Seeing his persistently low blood count numbers and her constant battles with various bugs really drive this home.


When Daniel and I showed up at Clinic on Tuesday, we were happily surprised to have Joey and Elizabeth Keller join us in the waiting room.  Daniel & Joey got to spend a few brief minutes linking their Nintendo DSes together to play Super Mario Cart (or something like that) while Eliz and I talked about our respective challenges.  Unfortunately, theirs currently dwarf anything I can even imagine much less relate to.


We were able to attend Joey's 9th birthday party this past Saturday and here is a link to some pics from the party on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3604906886693.2126038.1394270143&type=3


We feel very close to the Kellers and, though only in a very small way, can relate to some of what they're going through.  They're amazing people and we love them to pieces.  So I was in tears this morning reading Nick's latest post about what Joey is going through.
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/joeykeller/
Please, please pray for Joey, Nick, and Elizabeth as they stare this dragon in the face and march forward in faith with sword in hand.  Scripture assures us that God's desire is ALWAYS for us to be whole, healthy, and free from sickness and death.  I am absolutely confident in this. This is NOT what we were designed for, and God grieves alongside us through all our trials and tribulations.  We don't always understand what sometimes prevents God from healing us, but we do know that PRAYER changes things.  We also know that ALL things work together for good for the Called.


Please join with us - frequently - as often as you can - in persistently PESTERING God about healing Joey and delivering him from this awful cancer (Luke 11:8; 18:5).  Yes, this is actually what He wants us to do!  (Read the two passages if you haven't made this amazing discovery.)  Pray for Joey to be completely healed. Pray every time you think of it, and think of it often.  Pray specifically that every cancer cell and every form of cancer cell in his body would be destroyed, and that all damage would be healed restoring him to complete health.  Also pray for the protection, peace, endurance, patience, and faith of all three of them.  This is a long and difficult race for them, strewn with pitfalls and robbers along the way.  They are amazing people, and Joey is an absolutely amazing, faith-filled, brilliant and insightful little boy.  I have been learning from all three of them regularly as we watch them fight this battle.  We seek to help them "hold their arms up", in any way we can and hope you can join "TEAM JOEY" alongside us as well.

Grace and peace,

- Tim -

Weekends at the Hospital

(Mirroring our CaringBridge entry here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal )

Weekends at the Hospital:

As I write this, Andrea and Daniel are off to the hospital again this morning for our next planned admission - the second of four for this phase of chemotherapy.  Though we're very grateful that the staff has agreed to shift these admissions to the weekend so that it's not so hard on us to stay the nights with Daniel, it doesn't make for a very enjoyable weekend for anyone.  Daniel was really dreading this again last night, but the good news is that there is no spinal tap this visit.  Finding that out made him a little happier.

I was rather surprised last night as I got out my copy of the chemotherapy protocol to which he's been assigned to see what was on the agenda for this weekend.  He actually got angry with me stating that he didn't want to see it, didn't want to be around it, and didn't think ANYBODY should have to "see their own chart".  I was dumbfounded.  It's such an opposite reaction to things like this than I had at his age when I underwent kidney surgery and had to go into the doctor twice a week for allergy shots in each arm growing up with fairly severe allergic asthma.  I wanted to learn about everything.  I had a collection of the hypodermic syringes (with needles broken off of course) - hundreds of them.  I even did a science fair project on how the kidney works.

But Daniel wants nothing to do with ANY of it and doesn't even want to have the subject discussed in his presence.  When we're not actually forced to be dealing with the subject, he wants it all as far from him as possible.  Clearly there's a LOT of psychological undertones here and most of this is a defense mechanism.  Some of it at least is unhealthy and I still look for opportunities to help him process through all that's happening.  I want to be sure he at least doesn't have false ideas or expectations about how things are going or his prognosis.  Worries and fears will kill us and we're not meant to carry such burdens even as adults.  Watching a 10 year old go through this - particularly one's own and only child - is soul wrenching.  On the positive side, he's been doing much better recently.  We've been looking for and finding more "fun" things to do and, with his counts improved, we've been able to have more visitors and get out more.  Last weekend, I took him to play LASER Tag - probably his new favorite activity - and that was a huge attitude boost for him.  He's been feeling & acting much more "back to normal" though he still doesn't get out of the house much.  This isn't so much because we won't let him as just the combination of schedules, weather, and limits to his own energy levels (not to mention Andrea's & mine).

I'm back at work today as I've been so much of the time this week, and last, and the one before that...  My team is up against some difficult deadlines and a LOT of people are stressed and putting in lots of hours.  I'm starting the day today with several hours of overtime already on my time card.  So in some ways, I'm actually looking forward to the hospital stays this weekend as I spend the evenings at least with Daniel.  It'll be the most I've seen of him all week.  I'm thankful that at least I'm enjoying the job.  That's an enormous blessing that I'm very thankful for in the midst of all this. 

PRAYER REQUESTS:
1. Please continue to pray for Daniel - he needs God's touch, reassurance, and comfort in his whole being - physical, mental, and spiritual. 
2. More & better family time for all of us, but especially Daniel, to bring more "FUN" into the equation to balance out the rest.
3. Better spiritual (and psychological & physical) leadership on my part so that I can help him process, recover, and build himself up in body, soul, & spirit
4. Along the same lines - that Daniel (and all of us) would be STRENGTHENED through these trials ... that they would accomplish God's purposes in our lives, working together for good both in us & through us to others.
5. Success and minimal (or NO) side-effects from the drugs or complications from all this
6. For Andrea and I as we struggle, seemingly more and more recently, with the stress, communication, and our own marriage through the midst of all this.
7. That God would be glorified in the midst of our family and by what others see / perceive in all this.  If God can use this as a witness or to help others in any way that brings glory to Himself, then all of it is worthwhile.

PS: Please also continue to pray for our friends the Kellers and their boy Joey.  Visit / join his CaringBridge site here; http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/joeykeller

Easter at Riley?

(Mirroring my CaringBridge Entry at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal  Please follow us one one of the two sites for automatic notifications of new posts)

Easter At Riley??

Daniel had a rough day yesterday. Andrea reported that he was in tears most of the day without even really knowing why.  Wednesday (day before) he was at the clinic getting his last chemo of this "phase". It was a single drug, but his red cells were low enough that they gave him blood, which takes an additional 4 hrs & makes for a long day.  It's just never easy.

He had been running a low grade fever all day, and by evening it began creeping up.  We gave him Tylenol shortly before bed and it came right down, so I went to bed & hoped for the best.  I got up around 4 to check him and it was back up to 102.5 or so.  Previous experience prevented me from immediately rushing him to Riley ER even though that's actually what they tell us to do.  I gave him another dose & set my alarm for 6:00a.  At 6 it was down to about 100.2 so I chose to wait until the clinic opened in a few hours.  By 9 this am, it was back up to 102.7 so it was off to the clinic.  Andrea took him in while I came in to work.  But Daniel was in tears - sobbing actually - at the thought of yet ANOTHER trip to the hospital.  He tried everything he could think of to talk me out of it. I HATE being the one to force this stuff and am often feeling really alone in doing so anymore.  It's not always good to be the dad.  Andrea reports that he's been very stressed at the hospital as well all day.  It's likely that some of the emotional component is due to Wed's chemo, and also the fever itself.

Now at nearly 2:00, they're just getting around to giving him the antibiotic (no idea what the staff has been doing all this time since that's the PRIMARY thing they do for him, but I'm trying not to get too wrapped up about that.)  His white counts (and therefore immune system) have dropped significantly since even Wed and are now within just a few points of an automatic admission to the hospital.  They'll check his fever again soon and if it's not climbing, will likely release them to come home. But if it climbs again overnight, it will definitely mean an admission.  And if it's going up now, will probably mean the same thing.

I'm going to go out and look for some kind of gift to bring him and hopefully get his mind off it all.  Not the way we'd hoped to spend Easter weekend, but we know God has always been and will continue to be in the midst of all that happens.  Please keep us in your prayers

Specifically:
1. Peace and comfort for Daniel
2. Healing from whatever is causing the fever (an infection of some kind)
3. Strength for all 3 of us

We wish EVERYONE a wonderful and blessed Resurrection weekend remembering the unimaginable sacrifice our Lord went through on our behalf and His ultimate demonstration of victory over sin, death, disease, and all things that could come between us and our Heavenly Father.

Grace and Peace to all.

Back to In-Patient Status

(Mirroring our CaringBridge Entry here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/danieljmiller/journal)

 Back to In-Patient Status

Sorry the news has been slow in coming lately. It's not because there hasn't been any - just struggling to keep ahead of it recently!

Last week, Daniel received his medication for the osteoporosis, something he only gets once every 4 mos or so.  He was almost immediately a "new kid" again. He was feeling great, active, and happy - a real joy for all of us.  This rebound has been typical of getting that particular medication and it was the last round, when he didn't bounce back, that was the first clue leading us toward the leukemia discovery.  So this was a breath of fresh air for us.

About that same time, he received his "little gift" from the Indiana Make-A-Wish Foundation (they're awesome) which was a giant Star Wars Lego kit.  He had it built in less than 24hrs of working time and was very eager to show it off at his homeschool co-op's Lego Club on Thurs.  Dad (being the over-protective meany) was reluctant to let him go, but caved in the end simply because it was SO important to Daniel.  He was ecstatic ... a little too ecstatic.  Not only did he go to Lego club, but also participated in PE that day. He had a ball, and I was really glad for him. 

I was also expecting the return of a fever that has typically shown up in the evenings after times of "over-doing it".  It didn't show up until the following day and was fairly minor, so I didn't think much about it.  acetaminophen had usually done the trick and all was good.  But it didn't this time.  It kept coming back, and by mid-day on Saturday, it was hitting 103 so we headed to the ER again.  Same story - drew blood, start cultures, give him an antibiotic, and, because his white cell counts were good (strong immune system), sent us home.  But this time, unlike previous times, the fever wasn't gone.  We watched it through the rest of the weekend and up to his clinic visit on Friday - always toying with the threshold at which we're supposed to take him in.  The acetaminophen would usually help, but before long, it was back. 

It was around 100 at his clinic visit on Tuesday, but everything went ahead as planned.  Long-story less long, today (Thurs), we were back in the clinic after hitting over 103 last night and they've decided to admit him to the hospital.  In the past 5 days, his white cells (which had been going up) suddenly plummeted from 2300 down to 510 (normal range is 1400-8800).  500 Would be an automatic admission to the hospital.  When they also found his blood pressure to be low (and dad said he'd prefer they keep him to watch him anyway rather than running back and forth to the ER) they decided to admit him.

Unfortunately, having been spoiled last time, he was pretty unhappy to find he has a roommate this time, an older (teenager) whom I haven't met yet.  Andrea has been with him all day and I'll be heading that way shortly (still trying to make up time at work for having gone to the clinic with him on Tues) and staying the night with him.

The docs' best guess is that it's a virus, but the screwy blood cell counts, and lack of any other symptoms have everyone scratching their heads.  At this point, it's simply a waiting game to see how the fever and blood counts do after he gets fluids & antibiotics.  We were told that 99% of fevers never have their cause determined. I'm not sure that's particularly helpful, but it is more comforting than hearing "wow, I've never seen anything like THAT before" - which I've heard way too many times in my own life as well as about Andrea!!  :)

Nevertheless, we're confident that God is still God and still in control and Romans 8:28 is still there (I just checked!)  We are thankful for so very many things, and we can still praise and trust Him through all things.  We're here for a reason, and we trust that He will bring us through in a way that glorifies Him and blesses us ... perhaps later if not sooner ... but always a certainty.

We appreciate your prayers for, among other things:

1. Our wonderful Father would be glorified through this and all things,
2. The cause of the fever and low blood pressure, whatever it is, would curl up and die!  NOW!!  :)
3. Daniel's emotional health and endurance. He's really been struggling lately with depression & being overwhelmed,
4. Andrea's own health, energy, and endurance (it's tough enough to go through this for your child without also struggling with having cancer herself!)
5. Strength, perseverance, peace, and joy for us all.
6. Being able to keep all the "logistics" worked out between Andrea & I with work, the house, the dogs, etc.
7. That I would be able to keep on top of lesson planning for my Bible study.

- Tim -

Glimpses of Eternity

Most things that come into our lives, whether good or bad, come and go without us ever really recognizing any eternal significance.  We tend not to question the good things that come our way; they’re good after all, we enjoy them for what they are and probably don’t even care whether there is significance beyond that immediate joy.  But the hard times give us pause. We wonder, perhaps hypocritically, “why did this have to happen?”  And we of faith look to God for answers.  Usually, we don’t get specifics other than a reassurance that God is in control; that all things work together for good; and trials produce patience and character and draw us closer to God.  And that is enough.  And it should be enough.  God owes none of us an explanation for what He does or why He does it, and His Master Plan is just that … HIS.  We couldn’t grasp it if we wanted to in our limited minds, knowledge, and existence.

Perhaps one of the most important lessons that can come from such times is this very recognition – God owes us no answers – and we MUST make peace with that fact.  The TRUST He expects of us, after all,  doesn’t come with qualifications: “I’ll trust you IF You tell me what’s going on”, or “IF You explain to me the eternal significance”.  Trust means we believe that God is God and we’re not.  Hope means resting in the knowledge that the future will be good because of what we know about God’s nature … so much so that we can be assured “that ALL things work together into a pattern for good” because God is Who He is.  He is loving and He is love itself.  He is righteous and righteousness itself.  He is graciousness and He is grace itself.  He is good and He is goodness.  For Love, Righteousness, and Grace do not exist apart from Him. They have their definition and existence in His character.  As I wrote in an earlier post, we can never hold God’s actions up against some independent standard of love, or righteousness, or grace because no such standard exists.  He IS the standard and these ideas exist in the first place because of Who He is.  Without God, there is no such thing as love or righteousness or grace.   And one of the most important and foundational truths that we can learn as we see Christian maturity is to trust Him for all things, at all times, in every situation, without explanation, without excuse, and without WHINING!  

The purpose of this life is NOT to make us happy and give us an easy time of it.  In fact, we’ve been promised quite the opposite – that this life will be difficult, the path will be narrow, and it will be filled with trials.  Learning these truths does not make it much easier to go through the dark valleys, but it does help process the things God allows to come our way and helps keep our focus on the Way forward.  I’ve heard it taught that we shouldn’t pray for God to remove the trials from our lives, but rather that the lessons they bring would not be lost.  That’s sound wisdom.  I’m afraid I’m not quite there yet though and I most certainly find myself regularly praying for deliverance and a swift end to suffering, be it my own or my loved ones.  Maybe one day I’ll be better at that part.  But when the answer comes back “Not yet”, it’s a little easier to understand why when I recognize my place in His eternal perspective.

Nevertheless, every once in awhile, He does give us the gift of a small glimpse into His plan – into the eternal clockworks of the awesome machinery that drives the universe forward according to His will and design.  We should always be extremely grateful when He allows us such insights, no matter how tiny.  And the glimpse I received a few days ago, if that’s even what it was, is indeed a tiny one.  But it brought me great joy to see the working of God’s hand in our lives and to be able to assign even a little “purpose” to an event that had actually caused great pain in my family’s and my lives.

If you’ve followed recent event in my blog here at all, you probably know about the misdiagnosis of Daniel’s leukemia that happened a couple weeks ago.  After having been told that Daniel’s condition was a more easily treatable type of disease and that the current success rate was in the 90-95% range, we got a devastating blow.  A very specialized cytogenetic test was done and when the results came back, they indicated that Daniel had a rare condition that was linked to a much lower probability of success.  In an instant, his prognosis dropped from 95% down to 60% or lower.  I briefly described the sensation of the world collapsing in around me in that instant and my own inability to even breathe.  There were some sleepless nights, enormous amounts of prayer, and a wrestling match with Fear that would have put Rocky to shame.  All of this served as an indicator of my own poor faith and shone the light on a number of areas that needed improvement.  But it also prompted a single text message to a good friend that set off a chain reaction resulting in a trip the following day to see an Amish healer named Solomon Wickey.  

I wrote briefly about this trip in an earlier post, but to summarize, we were granted a rare “emergency” appointment with this man who is known and respected literally world-wide for his healing ministry and has literally healed thousands of people from life-threatening and terminal diseases over his 30+ years of ministry.  We were in his presence for not much more than 10-15 minutes and he pronounced Daniel as having been “released” from the disease that was threatening his life.  We weren’t sure what to think.  We’re STILL not sure what to think.  I continue to await God’s direct confirmation to me of Daniel’s complete deliverance from Leukemia, but until that happens I feel I have no choice but to continue forward with the traditional approach – hoping – praying – believing that he is in fact completely healed.  And though the doctors reported only a few days later that Daniel had in fact responded ASTOUNDINGLY well to the first 2 weeks of treatment and was unexpectedly already in complete remission (they neglected to use the word “miraculous” of course! :-) I still don’t feel I have enough confirmation to pull him off of the chemotherapy.  Only about 2 days later, the doctors discovered a mistake in the interpretation of the genetic testing results and immediately came back to us stating that he was NOT in a super-high risk category after all.  His prognosis was still in fact in the 90-95% range and they apologized for the error.  Obviously, this was a huge relief to everyone and we thanked God for, in a sense, restoring our son to us (ala Abraham & Isaac in Gen 22)  But anyway, that’s not the point of this story.

It was a couple weeks later before it finally dawned on me that, had the doctor’s error in interpreting the test results not occurred – the tiny mistake that made for perhaps the darkest and most difficult weekend of my life thus far – I almost certainly would never have made the trip up to see Solomon Wickey.  And though I don’t know the results of that trip for certain, I tend to believe that some miraculous things happened at that time in all our lives.  And so the “lights came on” about how, in just this tiny little instance, God in fact kept His promise in a powerful way … that something that had the appearance of evil DID in fact work together into a pattern for good.  His hand was there at work the whole time, through the whole ordeal.  Not only was the trip up to see Solomon prompted, but I learned a number of things about areas in my own life needing work as well as some areas where God has already made improvements in me.  An enormous amount of prayer support was generated, and also wheels were set in motion that we believe will be bringing forth a series of events to help bring awareness, raise money, and bring additional glory to God through some good friends of ours (but more on that another time).  

It was literally in the same few minutes that I received this small revelation that God brought another thought to my mind.  If you’ve read my previous blogs, you’ve already seen this, but I had been contemplating (for obvious reasons now), Romans 8:28, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.”  Suddenly, the word “ALL” came to the center of my attention.  I’ve literally heard entire sermons preached on the meaning and significance of this word in the context of this passage.  It’s a powerful word.  But what made it especially significant to ME at this particular point in time was the recognition that these 3 letters A-L-L are also those used in the abbreviation of Daniel’s particular brand of leukemia.  It’s properly titled “Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia” – A.L.L.  And so, right after God’s revelation of how He had used the doctors’ mistake to in fact bring a unique blessing into our lives, He pointed out that … EVEN “A.L.L. things work together for good for those who love God…”

-          - Tim -

An Unscheduled Trip Back To Riley

Since Daniel's spinal tap on Friday, his pulse has been unusually high.  I've been watching it and was beginning to become concerned when it hit 140-145 a couple nights ago.  But last night and today it seemed better so we didn't do anything about it.  However, tonight, it hit 160 so I called the on-call oncologist from Riley and talked to her about what was going on.  She thought we'd be OK for tonight, but asked that I bring him in tomorrow morning to have his blood counts checked.  Since Andrea already has two other doctor appointments for herself tomorrow, I'll have to take off work again.  After having done so today for Daniel's Rheumatology visit, working late nights to make up the time is getting a little tiring.  But we do what we must.

Daniel is not at ALL happy about it though. Despite the fact that it's all done through his port and nearly painless, he's just really becoming overwhelmed with it all and dreads another trip to the docs & the hospital - especially back-to-back with today's visit. Here, he THOUGHT he was getting 10 days off and he's ending up spending more time there than usual.  He burst into tears this evening and exclaimed that "it's just too much".  He's right.  No 10 year old should have to go through this. 

But it did give me a chance to share something the Lord gave to me yesterday.  I was contemplating Romans 8:28 (as I seem to do frequently these days) ...

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." - Romans 8:28 

Probably familiar to most folks - certainly a good one to commit to memory!  But what the Lord drew my attention to yesterday was the 5th word, "all".  You see Daniel's specific type of Leukemia is called "Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia", abbreviated "A.L.L." 

So now my own PERSONAL rendition of Romans 8:28 reads, "And we know that A.L.L. things work together for good..." 

As always, prayers for Daniel appreciated, especially for whatever is causing the high pulse rate and his psychological ability to cope with all that's coming his way right now. ... in a word: Peace.

Kicking a Guy When He's Down

(Re-posting our latest Caring Bridge entry)

While Andrea and I were out running around today trying to get the house back in order enough to move back, my folks were gracious enough to watch Daniel for us for much of the day.  Unfortunately, while I was out and about, I got a call from Daniel's grandparents that he had fallen in the house and injured his back again.  I couldn't tell how bad it was over the phone, but clearly he didn't want to move and was asking for me to come home to help him get to the bathroom.  Luckily, I wasn't that far away! 

His back injuries of course, are what started us down this whole road about 2 years ago leading to the initial diagnosis of Juvenile Osteoporosis - an extremely rare disease in children.  It took nearly a year and 6 different doctors to get him diagnosed correctly and on the right treatments for that.  But when we realized that he wasn't growing or putting on weight and seeming to grow more and more lethargic, we began seeking additional help. Clearly the osteoporosis wasn't the whole story.  A year later, here we are with leukemia and we're STILL not certain we've gotten to the bottom of things.

His bones were responding well to the osteoporosis medication, but now that were on chemotherapy, one of its side effects is that it can again lower his bone density.  In fact, the medication he has been on for the osteoporosis is often given to leukemia patients anyway for precisely this reason.  So we have no idea what shape his bone density is in at the moment and to have another back injury like this really a complication we just don't need.  Previously, he'd actually had a number of compression fractures in his spine that helped lead to the correct diagnosis (once we found a doctor that could actually read an X-ray ... but don't get me started on that!)

He's resting well now and a combination of ice, heat, and Tylenol with Codeine seems to have done the trick for the moment.  Tomorrow will likely tell a clearer tale.

Daniel has really been struggling with depression lately and it's difficult to get him to talk about his feelings ... but I keep prying.  Today's "insult" certainly didn't help.  But it did give me the opportunity to open the subject more and have a good talk with him about keeping our joy and peace even in the midst of trials.  We talked about taking every thought captive, about the peace of God and how it's different from the peace the world offers, and about not letting the devil, or circumstances steal our joy ... or any other of the Spirit's fruits from us.  It seemed to cheer him up a lot and we talked and laughed for a good 1/2 hour or 45 minutes.  Then he went straight to sleep and is now resting soundly.  A real blessing to see after seeing him struggle so much recently to get even a few hours of sleep.

Andrea returned home just a few minutes ago from cleaning at the house all day long.  She's completely beat. A HUGE THANK YOU to our two friends who were able to drop by today for a few hours to help. Your generosity is GREATLY appreciated! 

I had hoped to be able to get us back into the house by the end of this weekend, but the situation just hasn't quite worked out.  We're getting closer, but there's a lot left to do just to satisfy me that things are CLEAN enough for Daniel's severely compromised immune system.  But we're closer and my wonderful folks have been extremely patient in letting us stay with them while the house is under construction.  We certainly couldn't get through this without all the wonderful friends and family around us.

Thank you all for your prayers and continued support.  We continue to solicit and value your prayers the most.  Please pray for:
1. Daniel's continued recovery and lessened effects from the chemo drugs.
2. A quick recovery from today's back injury
3. That he (and all of us) continues to keep a positive attitude and trust in the Lord for the future - focusing here and now on peace and joy rather than negativity and despair
4. That my and especially Andrea's health would hold out while our lives are so disrupted as we try to get the house back in order and get back to some level of "normalcy" as soon as possible
5. Our finances.