Into the Quiet
As for me, the nearness of God is my good. ~ Asaph
I’m afraid of the dark. A little. Perhaps I’m a too old to have such lingering fears kicking around. But I am. Mostly, I smile at this knowing that one day in this age or the age to come, that little fear will be scrubbed off my soul for good. Haste the day. I have known darkness in my journey. I have known fear. I have known unique suffering (isn’t it all?). I have known significant personal failure.
This moment is none of those things. None.
Sitting in a coffee shop in Rochester, MN by myself I am marveling at this journey so far. So much goodness. So many friends (old and new and never-met) and so much light. But mostly, I marvel at my Friend. With a friend as enjoyable and strong as Jesus, there has been little room for fear. And no room for the dark. There is so much more going on around us than just what we can see.
Yesterday morning, Amy and the boys and I gathered at the door and prayed (and cried), and I drove into the sunrise (squinting a bit!) singing by myself and the least alone I’ve ever been.
Trip #2 started yesterday and will bleed quickly into Trip #3.
- Feb 18 - Feb 21 I’ll be getting shots to generate stem cells
- Feb 22 - 24/25/26 they’ll be harvesting stem cells for use in the future.
The harvesting phase, in rare cases, can all happen in one day. That’s what I want. It will probably take three days. Could take five days. As soon as that is complete, I’ll head home for a few days.
Trip #3 will be less enjoyable.
- Feb 28 we’ve got meetings meetings all day.
- Mar 1 I get high dose chemo. Relatively anti-climactic. You sit in a chair and they hook up the poison. And then you suck on ice cubes. Maybe they’ll stick a few leeches on my face as well it all seems a bit medieval. It lasts about an hour.
- Mar 2 is a rest day. I’ll be leading an Ash Wednesday service at the transplant house (only transplant patients and caregivers can stay there). One pastor I love says that we should preach as dying people to dying people. I wonder what it will be like to worship Jesus in a house of such singular weakness. Please pray for me that the peace and power of Jesus would be evident as we affirm our mortality and look to the giver of Life.
- Mar 3 is the transplant. 4 hours of fluids, 2 hours of stem cells cycled back into my body, 4 hours of fluids.
- Mar 7 -17 will be the hard days (I may have shared different dates in previous updates, but these are the dates when I ask you to be praying for sustaining grace). It could get a bit ugly, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes.
I come home sometime between Mar 18 and Mar 25.
Please continue to pray for our boys. Charles and Owen. Pray for Amy. And as you pray for me, know that I am praying for you. That Jesus may show up on your horizon bright enough that you have to squint a bit. And that he might give you a song in the morning.
This will be my last update until late March.
Looking to the Sunrise,
Dave (for Amy, Charles and Owen)
A few further notes:
1. What’s the prognosis?
Early on we were led to believe I had between 3 and 5 years to live. Now, we are looking more like 20 years. It could be much less, it could be more. The landscape for this diagnosis (multiple myeloma) has changed immensely in the past 5 years and continues to change.
2. When will you be recovered from the stem cell transplant?
There are a few phases of recovery. The first recovery is about three weeks. I need my white blood cells and platelets to be high enough and then I’ll head home. The second recovery is about 3 months when my immune system continues to gain traction and I’ll rejoin society. The third recovery will be around a year. That’s when I’ll feel ‘normal.’
3. Didn’t you just start a church?
We did. November 28th, Amy and I along with a group of about 45 started Christ Our Hope. So, we were around for a few months and now I’ll be away for three months. It’s an awesome community. If you are don’t know God or have been away from him for a long time, these are people you should know (www.605hope.org). If you do know God through Jesus, please pray for us. It’s a vulnerable time for our community, but we have high expectations of God and what he will do among us in the next three months.
4. Thank you.
I hesitate to write those words for some reason. The joy of participating in this journey together is the strongest reward … even if we’ve never met. We are in this together, us and you. This is a beautiful thing. Yet, Amy and I are incredibly grateful for you…it’s humbling and powerful. Thank you: family, old friends, new friends, UPS friends, church friends, Christian friends, friends who are not Christians, … if this letter is getting to you, thank you.
And now, into the quiet…