A Year Later

It was a year ago, nearly, that Mom and Dad drove to Sulphur Springs, to have tests done, to see what was wrong. It was a year ago, that Johanna and I sat with Dad, outside, and heard the words that struck fear against our souls. Mom had Stage 4 Cancer. The doctors could give us no hope.

I don't think I really believed it. Not then. It wasn't the sort of thing that happens, not really. We were shaken inside, trying not to think of what it would be like, how life would change, if our fears were realized. But we turned our thoughts from those fears, and pressed forward. We fought every inch of the way, getting Mom into M.D. Anderson, starting the chemo that stopped the cancer's progress, praying and worshipping every evening we could, seeking the Lord's face for wisdom.

I got caught up in the every day, in surviving each separate moment, in weeping with the blessings, with the precious gift of all the dear people who supported us. We all did, I think. We did what was before us, because it was given us to do.

Now, standing nearly on the other side, it feels like waking from a dream,
looking back, and realizing, suddenly, the immense miracle of 2010,
the year that changed our lives forever.

The Lord has blessed us, beyond belief. And we have something to share with you, a new measure of proof. The Lord made a way for us to pay for a sonogram, and Thursday, Mom and Dad went to Tyler. The results? The tumors are not gone, but they have shrunk to half the size.

"5 lesions are identified in the liver.  All of the lesions are significantly reduced in size, with only two small lesions showing color flow.  The spleen is normal in size and texture.  The low density lesion in the posterior aspect of the spleen described in earlier reports is no longer visible.  The kidneys are normal, and the mass in the pelvic area is reduced from 6.1 x 6.3 to 4.4 x 3.2.  Some color flow is noted."

-paraphrased from sonogram report 

Isn't is wonderful?  And Mom, free of medication for nearly 4 months, has no pain.  Her hair is coming in thickly, and she is blessing us daily with her beautiful self. Mom is nearly back.

We are still struggling financially. Business in the shop is slow, and Mom's supplements and weekly IV treatments run up quite a sum. Staying in the black is a daily challenge.  But the Lord is with us, every step.

How can we doubt him? How can we fear? How can we do anything but trust after such a miracle? There is no logic in fearing when we have such proof of His love.

No matter what happens, we are His.

Wishing you a peace without measure,

Emma

and the family at Rambellwood

I Feel A Need

I feel a need to share, not because so much time has passed, not because so many people want to know how Mom is doing, but a need, merely because my heart is full.  A need, because life can grow so heavy when one does not share the burden.

Life is different for us, different, because we have, at last, accepted that Mom is not herself, that even though we feel she is on the mend, she cannot do everything she has always done.  She cannot, though she wants to so badly, carry the responsibilities she has always held.

The doctors have not definitely said it, there is no medical proof of it,
but we feel that Mom is over the worst.  We are seeing this time as a time of recovery, and we are moving carefully toward that goal, day by day, moment by moment.

We are eating and living as organically as possible.  Mom is doing coffee enemas, juicing greens and wheat grass, having weekly IV doses of Vitamin C, and spending time in an infared sauna. 

At this point, Mom is completely off all her pain medication, which, in itself, is amazing.  Despite that, there are still lingering effects of the drugs.

Our goal now is for Mom to be free of withdrawal symptoms, and, if at all possible, herself again.  But, that requires patience, and courage.  It is a daily battle for Mom, fighting weariness and depression, fighting a strange weariness, where she feels too tired to rise and do something, but not tired enough to rest.  She is caught between the two, and it is a burden that makes her struggle to hold her head up.

And it is hard for all of us, hard for Dad, because some of the order of his life seems gone, hard for we children left at home, because we are not accustomed to bear our Mother's burdens, and hard for Mom, because she does not want us to.

We do not notice how heavy this new life is, how firm the weight of new responsibilities hangs on our shoulders.  We do not notice till we bottom out, and beg the Lord to please, end this thing.

We have been so, so blessed, honored by gifts beyond our belief... and we have grown, so, so much, felt our hearts touched by truths we never knew existed.  And our minds tell us we must be strong, we must keep on, we must hold our own against the storm.

But our hearts, our hearts tell us we can hold on no longer.  We must find rest.  We must release this "burden of care", and rest.  And this is where the difficulty lies.

We must lean on Him, every moment, every hour of the day.  We cannot survive if we do not.  We must learn to trust Him even more, to hear His voice when so many other voices crowd our souls.

It isn't easy.  In fact, it's terribly hard.  But is this not the struggle of all our lives?

Here in this place, in this journey, God has given us a window, a window to discover Him, to pull him close and never let go.  I do not know how long the window will stand open, or how long the storm will come rushing in, but we cannot see it as a torment, nor as a battle we are too weary to fight.  No, we must see it as a challenge, as a challenge to meet the Lord in our weariness, and find a strength that no army can conquer.

Emma

and the family at Rambellwood

Spilling Out

It is Christmastime at Rambellwood.  All of our lights, the white stars that adorn our home, wrapping around a stairwell, around a porch, are holding their own against the cold winter weather.  All of the boxes are unpacked, and much of our evenings are spent in the living room, lulled by the gentle cracking of the wood stove and the glimmer of our Christmas tree.

Remember, how the Lord spoke, a while back?  That when He had finished His work in all of us, He would bring us back together again?  Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm sentimental, but I think this is the time.  Here we are, preparing for a season that, for us, means spending time together, celebrating our unity as a family, celebrating each other, and celebrating Him.  And, here in our midst, He stands, slowly granting us the deepest desires of our hearts, even the ones we cannot put into words.

Yes... dear friends, there is news, great and wonderful news.  We might even call it a miracle.  This story is not over, but God's part among the pages is clearer than ever.

So, here it is.  Mom had a test, two weeks ago, a PET-CT that lights up problem areas to show activity.  One week ago, the results came in, and Dad called our doctor in California to hear the results.

At the beginning, when we first found out the tumors in Mom's body were really and truly cancer, and heard how quickly they were invading her liver, the world we held in our hands shook from our grasp.  We had to let go.  We had to lay our fears and our worries and our sorrows at the feet of the Lord.

And guess what?  Now, seven months later, the reports show that there is little, to no, activity in Mom's liver.  The only activity shown is shadows, shadows our doctors believe to be scar tissue.  Only shadows!  Can you believe it?  Can we believe it?  My heart still trembles at the incredible truth of it.

No... this is not the end of the story.  We have no definite report on the other areas of Mom's body, and the test showed a lighted area in her thyroid that had not been there before.  Our doctor tells us the test would show a path from one tumor to the other if these were malignant.  So... there is no, "this is over... it's all gone" report, but there is physical evidence that cannot be denied.  Mom has been slowly lowering her heavy pain medication, and by the end of this month, may be completely without it.  The only effects of this have been withdrawal symptoms caused by the heavy narcotic.  There has been NO pain.  How amazing is that?  What glorious truth shows in that thought!  She has no evident pain caused by cancer.  When she is not dealing with withdrawal, she is her normal, busy, motivated, amazing self.  No matter what the tests say, the proof stands before us.  Mom is regaining her strength, and her hair.  I smile at the thought, because it seems so trivial, but, in the face of such news, it seems a gift beyond belief.

So... here's the deal.  Mom has been denied Medicaid because her type of cancer is not primarily breast or cervical.  Though the alternative treatment is considerably less money, it is all on our own budget.  The Issels protocol includes things like high dose Vitamin C from an IV, scheduled lab work and imaging, a solid, organic diet, daily vegetable juicing, and numerous supplements.  But these things, like so many good things, cost money.  At this point, our fund is all but empty, and our own bills are hard to maintain as it is.  It is frightening, to look at it logically, to stare in the face of money, and attempt to shake away the cold finger of the red numbers.

But... there is something much greater than all of this, something that does not go away, not ever.  How, again, can I put into words these mixed feelings of blessing and lack?  What is money, when there are such joys as we have been given?  What is hardship, when all of us walk it together?  What is life, when we follow our Father's path?  It is a blessing, each and every day.  Every moment of our lives is emblazoned with the truth of God, if only we can see it.

So, here on this page, my fingers are spilling our story into words.  And here, from the bottom of my heart, and from all of us at Rambellwood, is a....

Merry Christmas!

Praying you all the brightest and best of Christmases, crowded with the joys that only He can give.

Emma,
and all of us

Wholeness

They arrived in time for dinner Monday night, Dad, Mom, Johanna, Sarah Anne, and Matthew.  They are home, and we are together again.  On Thursday, preparing for their homecoming, tying my apron around my waist, I heard Grace, home from San Antonio, touching her fingers to the piano, and filling the house with music.  Mounting the stairs, words pushing at my fingers, I laid my hands across the keys of my typewriter, and spelled out these words.

I can feel it.  Rambellwood is coming back together.  I knew it when the strains of Grace's music, made by her fingers treading the piano keys, began to flow across the lonely floors of the house.  I can feel it now, as the Lord presses words from my heart, here onto this page.  Two days and they will begin their journey home, four days, and they will be here.  Four days and all of us, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine of us, will stand together, one again.

We... the family at Rambellwood.

And so it happened.  They drove in, at last, lifting their weary souls from the car.  Matthew went tearing out across the grass in his bare feet, thrilled to be home.

We had dinner, and celebrated Samuel's birthday, and talked, until Dad, weary from long hours driving, had to retire.  And then we all went to bed, and I marveled to see each room, quiet at the closing of the day, each bed occupied by its old inhabitant.  Rambellwood felt warm, and wonderful.

But, our lives have changed, and are changing still.  Mom is on a strict diet, that builds her immune system, and starves the cancer cells, and our already health conscious household is undergoing major adjustments.  We drove to Dallas on Thursday, to stock our pantry with organic produce, and purchase organically made personal care products, soaps, toothpaste, etc.  Everything made with artificial processes and harmful chemicals is disappearing from our shelves.

What a whirlwind it has made our lives, but what new joys we are blessed with!  Mom is her old, energetic, self, and yet a new woman.  She is planning our new life with the gusto and fervor I know so well.  Her treatments in California strengthened her immune system, and gave her body the impetus to fight for itself.

As of yet, we do not have medical proof of improvement.  No official tests have been made, yet.  But, the proof is in Mom's very life, in the return of her energy, of her health.  She lowered the dosage of her pain patch, with, unlike her last attempt, positive results.

What else can I say?  Despite no official results, we know that she is healing.  We know these new treatments are working, and working extremely well.  We know, and we are blessed beyond belief in the knowledge.  And slowly, week by week, the Lord is putting the pieces of our life together, like a scattered jigsaw puzzle, piece by piece, becoming a whole picture.  I can feel that wholeness, wrapping His warmth around us, binding us to each other, and binding us to Him.

With all my heart,

Emma
and all of us at Rambellwood

Note:  If you have any questions, please let me know.  So much happens, it is hard to put it all into words.  Some of your questions may be difficult to answer, but others I may simply have forgotten to mention.

Another Update

So... here we are, the nine of us, separated by innumerable miles, watching the Lord work.


Grace, in San Antonio with dear friends, learning and growing, becoming the woman of grace He has molded her to be.


Sam, in Denton, pursuing his future, and here at home, pursuing our future, as a family, and as a band.


Mom and Dad, and Johanna and Sarah Anne and Matthew, far away in California, settling into their apartment, into their life, and into the routine at the clinic, seeking God's peace through the passing days.


And James and I, here at home, continuing our lives, moving forward with what He, our Father in Heaven, has for us.


Today is Mom's birthday, and the thought of her, and all the years our family has spent together, tugs at my heart.  How do I put this feeling into words?  This incredible, wistful longing for my family to be together again, mixed with an unbelievable hope that, as Johanna said to me in a chat, 

"the Lord wants to do something in EACH of us... and when He has done that work, He will bring us back together again."

And those works are beginning.  The Lord is working in us, and through us.  Here are Dad's words on their experience so far at the Issels Clinic.

"The care Bonny is getting is very diverse.  She gets an IV bag each morning which contains  a long list of vital nutritional components for building her immune system.  We both meet with one or two of the three doctors available to us.  Today we were told that the initial blood test revealed many good levels, including in her liver.   She also has massage, acupunture, hyperberic oxen chamber, and sauna treatments, all natural ways of building the body to fight the disease.  Even this description barely scratches the surface of all that we are experiencing.

At Issels there is quite a team of caring people who have had many good results with their treatment protocol outside of traditional western oncology and medicine.  One thing that was obvious to us our first few days is how careful they are in mentioning anything spiritual.  One of the doctors who spoke to us on Tuesday, during lunch, was talking about drawing from a higher power and used the term, "the infinite energy of the universe".  He said to be "relentless in your pursuit of this positive energy connection".  Whoa now!  This, at first was disturbing.  But, as the Lord confirmed through another speaker today, God is not limited by this in our lives and rather uses it to strengthen our resolve.  Our "relentless pursuit of this infinite energy" is not to an unknown force.  His name is Jesus, our Savour, and Friend.  He has called us by name.  We are His.  Bonny told this doctor that her hope was not in Issels but in Jesus.  He agreed."

Dad told me stories of Mom, of the light she is in that place.  Her condition is rare, and it is easy to be discouraged about ever finding a treatment that could work, but, as Mom spoke, in her own words.  "I am not trusting this IV (they are feeding treatments into her body through the IV) to save me.  I am trusting Jesus to save me."

There are no truer words than those, no greater hope than that.  No matter what comes our way, we must trust Jesus to carry us through it.  Pray that we will find our trust in Him, that His strength, unending, will buoy us up in this struggle.


And for that, thank you.  Thanks to all of you, for your prayers, and your thoughts, for your donations, and the efforts you are making on our behalf.  We are blessed beyond belief by the army that surrounds us.


I will try to post again soon, as soon as we hear more definite results from the doctors at Issels. 


Emma
and all of us from Rambellwood 

On the Road to California

After much prayer, research, and consideration, Bonny will be starting a new treatment in Santa Barbara, California, at the Issels Medical Center.  Though chemo had been holding the cancer at bay, it by no means was applying a cure or allowing her body to resist the disease.  Rather, the chemo was breaking down her body's own immune system and ability to fight.  For many weeks we have struggled with this and have explored other means.  Issels, as you can see from their web site, not only offers non-toxic treatment, but has the history of helping people who were given no hope elsewhere. 

 

Since we will be traveling outside of Texas, Medicaid will not provide for this treatment for Bonny.  This has been another huge step, but we know God will provide.  Her life is to too precious to settle for less.  We will be able to get the ball rolling at Issels with the donations so many of you have blessed us with.  We do anticipate a need for more funds and are inviting anyone who is able to help.

 

We are leaving early this morning.  Driving for three days to California.  Bonny, Johanna, Sarah Anne, Matthew and I will be staying for approximately one month there in an apartment that Issels is providing, only charging us utilities since we are cash pay.  Grace will be staying with dear friends in San Antonio and James and Emma will be here at home.  Of course, Sam is still in school, UNT in Dallas.

 

Your prayers have been felt by all of us. We are hanging on to every word God is saying to us through His word.  We will keep you informed as much as possible while away.

 

Trusting the Lord,

 

Cary

In Flight

We flew away today.  We grabbed onto an idea and packed up our things in a whirlwind of excitement.  Now we are on the road, the miles passing beneath us, carrying us towards San Antonio, to visit some dear friends, to get away, to loosen the weariness of living from our shoulders….. to leave it all behind.

There is such a joy, such an exhilaration, in the spontaneity of this trip.  I am so excited, to be sitting here with my family, feeling the rush of the wheels beneath, bags and pillows piled around, watching Matthew's thrilled face smiling up at me.

We have been struggling, weary with living, with hoping for the future, with grasping for wisdom and making heavy decisions.  I myself have felt trapped, stuck in a rut, walking day after day, wanting nothing but to shut myself in a hole, safe, where nothing is required of me.

But we cannot live that way.  We must walk with our eyes open, awake to His voice, listening for His heart.  We must, and yet the strength to do so feels so far from our grasp.

So Lord, teach us to be still, to let You be our strength, to let You carry us, so we can fly away.

I wish that we could fly away

forever and a day

I wish the world would let us go

That we could fly like supermen

That all this pain away we'd throw

And then walk we'd in joy again.

I wish that we could fly away 

forever and a day

I wish we were like red striped kites

That we could raise our souls in flight

That we could leave our pain behind

If we had only YOU in mind.

__________________________________________________

It was Thursday, when I wrote the above.  Now we are home, with memories of joy sitting beside us, and thoughts for the future resting before us.

Until later,

Emma
and all of us at Rambellwood