The Story I Never Wanted To Write

For several years, it has been on my heart that I will write a book. I timidly even spoke that out loud to some trusted friends. Now it is clear to me the book I am going to write is my son's journey with cancer.

Cancer. It still creates a lump in my throat when I say it or even think it. It feels like a bad word. The "C" word (I want to throw up) and I also want my boy to know that is NOT his identity. His identity is in the big C, it's in Christ who has already made him whole and healed. This is going to be a part of his story, this is NOT his whole story.

My human body trembles in fear, anxiety, worry and anger when I say it though. The future right now feels so vastly unknown, uncertain and terrifying. How much of this is going to consume every minute of our days? How do we involve our 3 other beautiful girls who are facing this just as much and support them and be there for them in their very active lives? How do we help Cooper still feel like he can have a childhood when he is facing this giant? How do we allow our 3 girls to enjoy their childhood during all of this? Will I ever sleep again? How do I stay present and focused when my mind is in a million places at once, yet when I hear Cooper laugh, I am zeroed in on his face, his deep belly laugh and there is not one other thing more important to me than sealing every detail into my memory permanently. The saying, "You don't know when a moment becomes a memory until it's gone". Well every second with Coop I want to make sure I can remember forever.

I want to document every single thing and yet I know that is impossible. I want to be prepared, have a plan and do every damn thing possible the right way to give him the best chance and yet it has been made abundantly clear I have no control. I want to protect each one of my babies from this pain and yet I know the only thing I can do is be with them and bear the pain alongside them. I DON'T want this to be our story and yet it is. I've been researching which foods he should be eating, what sheets should he have, what oils can help, any natural remedies he won't get from the hospital, how to keep our house as healthy as possible and I also know I cannot heal him (but I will still do every possible thing there don't you worry!).

Lord, I surrender it all to you. I know in my mind that you love him even more than I do even when my heart truly thinks that's impossible. You are the answer to all of my shortcomings. You control and care about every detail, you are the author of our lives, you are our comforter, you are our ultimate protector and you are the great physician. In your powerful, loving, kind, healing, beautiful, precious name we ask for a massive, incredible miracle. Flex God. Flex real real big for all to see. Heal Cooper completely, be rid of every single cancer cell out of his body. I boldly plead to witness your great and mighty power tangibly though my son. Hold our shattered hearts tenderly together as we walk this path one weary step at a time. We feel so weak, be our strength. It's all you. It has to be you. I want it to be you. May you have every ounce of glory and shine brighter than I could imagine. In your mighty name, Amen.