Day 1

For all of Stew's and my married life, I have been an early riser. Waking up, even on weekends, between 4 and 6 am. This past year though that has changed. Most mornings now, when Stew leaves for work,  I am still snuggled in bed with my head under the cover until 7-7:30 am.

Each day without fail, he leans over, and softly kisses me on the forehead or cheek before picking up his lunchbox and heading out the door. That gentle act of love sets the tone for the remainder of my day. It causes me to feel safe, loved, and cherished.

Today, while sitting here typing and looking out the window, the reminder is present that our God does the same for us, and so much more. He displays His love for us with His gentle touch, the stirring of hope in our hearts, and His Word that still breathes life in us. He reveals His love in ways that are too numerous to count. And, in Him there is safety...refuge...hope.

Wednesday we had an appointment with a new doctor who is now a part of our care, Dr. B. He entered the conference room with a kind, confident, and serious manner. Using a white board he drew diagrams, wrote statistics, and key words as he explained to us in greater detail what mantle cell was, where Stew is in the medical realm of things, and what our options might be from a Hematologist/Oncologist/Stem Cell Transplant physician perspective.

Dr. B. shared with us that medically the only possible cure is for Stew to have a stem cell transplant, but that cannot be done as long as Stew is not in remission and totally cancer free. Currently the cancer is not only there, but is growing.

He asked questions, allowed us to ask ours, and listened to us intently. We are thankful Dr. B is now a part of our care.

Basically, from a medical perspective, we have only one viable option at this time that may bring remission. It is another different chemo protocol that Stew and I have named the German chemo. It can be more difficult for the body to handle and requires a three day hospital stay when it is administered. It will operate on a three week cycle so it will be three days in the hospital...28 days at home...three days in the hospital...28 days at home...

They did the stem cell biopsy that same day. The first one Stew was asleep, this one he was awake and I was allowed to be there. He handled it with his usual "let's do this" courageous attitude. I truthfully don't know how. It was painful to watch let alone be the one having it done.

And, today is Day 1. Stew is being admitted to the hospital this morning. Bags are packed and sitting by the front door as we wait for a phone call saying that a bed is ready. It is a new hospital with a new doctor and a new team (Dr. K is still involved).

We are moving into a new unknown place. But, we aren't alone. We have each other, our family, and all of you who have been standing with us in prayer and words of encouragement, kindness, and life.

Above all else, we have our God.  We are so thankful that He loves us beyond our fears, through all tears, and each day brings us to His place of safety, refuge, and hope.

Know that we are not giving up! Please keep believing with us.

We'll be posting brief updates through the next few days.

Thanking the Father for you.  Praying for you and your family.


In love and hope
Faces to the Wall
Stew and Deb

96 Days

In November, prior to discovering we would need to wait thirty days for Stew's Pet Scan to be completed, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with these words written across my mind. "Will you trust me without chemo?"

 Stew had experienced a rough night with fever and bone pain, so I quietly slid out of bed and walked to my prayer room. Sinking into my "God" chair, the words resounded again. "Will you trust me without chemo?" For a moment, it felt as if there was no air to breathe.

The "spiritual" thing to probably do would have been to respond with a resounding, "Yes." That didn't happen. Instead, curled up in the chair with eyes closed I whispered, "We need you." As tears began to slowly fall, it was as if the Father covered me with the warm peace of His love. Sleep came.

Later that day, when sharing with Stew, his response was simply, "Sounds like we're going to get to, doesn't it?" The following month we learned that was exactly what we were facing.

And so the days march on.
33 days has become 96:
96 days of trusting our Father not chemo.
96 days without treatment of any kind.
96 days of hoping above and beyond what we see.
96 days of seeing Stew display courage while slowly returning to the weariness, discomfort, and pain that had marked the beginning of the journey.
96 days of experiencing God's kindness over and over again.
96 days of doing life and making memories.
96 days in God's waiting room.
96  days together.
96 days to remember  Our God is able.
 96 days to be strengthened that "Even if" ... He is here.


They haven't always been an easy 96 days, but we're still here and so is He!

Love and prayers for you and yours,
Stew and Deb

Words He has spoken to our hearts the past 96 days.