Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Ethan Hallmark's Documentary -- His Second Story

You, Sweet Cutie-Pie Readers, get enough of my solemnity and negative tendencies.

For those of you sure of your faith, or at least not resentful of it, here is a real gift, announced by Ethan Hallmark's Mom Rachel on her CaringBridge journal:

Matt and I cannot believe the time is here for Ethan's beautiful documentary to be available for everyone to see. There will be a premiere in our hometown tomorrow (visit the Ethan Film Launch page on Facebook for info). The film will be made available to everyone this Tuesday on the I Am Second site (http://www.iamsecond.com/films/). Please join us as we pray for Ethan's story to continuously be used for God's glory. Pray that it will encourage many who are suffering through their own trials and afflictions
It's been a month since Ethan died.  I still treasure him as a normal kid, over and beyond his extraordinary manifestations of belief and trust in God.  I love the way he was a big brother, the way he enjoyed his friends, his love of fishing (hypocrite that I am, his other hunting never thrilled me), and, yes, the inspiring way he conducted himself along the way.  I confess to wanting to hear stories of him acting like a frustrated, pissed off kid now and then, but that's not the narrative being offered and perhaps he never was that kid.

Please check out his documentary:







© 2013 L. Ryan

Friday, July 5, 2013

TED Talk: The doubt essential to faith (Lesley Hazleton)




When Lesley Hazleton was writing a biography of Muhammad, she was struck by something: The night he received the revelation of the Koran, according to early accounts, his first reaction was doubt, awe, even fear. And yet this experience became the bedrock of his belief. Hazleton calls for a new appreciation of doubt and questioning as the foundation of faith -- and an end to fundamentalism of all kinds.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Joey Keller, Lego King of the World, Needs You RIGHT NOW

Hi all.  I went to bed worried about Joey, one of the four (okay, four "or so") pediatric cancer patients that I follow via the wonderful site CaringBridge.  You can go directly to his by clicking HERE.

His cancer, like every cancer, is a terrible one.

No, that's not true.  The first line of his "story" reads:  "Joey Keller is fighting multiple relapse medulloblastoma.."

He has one of the worst, but he has the biggest hunk of faith and derring-do that clearly comes from a slightly hyper father and a stalwart mom.  And his own joyful, humble little self, of course.  I forget sometimes how unique and -- sometimes for good -- alone these kids can be, despite the hurricane of activity whirling around them.  In their aloneness, they often develop god-sight and world-sight that puts adult vision to shame.

Such is Joey, Lego Kind of the World.

Last night, while his Dad was helping him take a bath, he suffered perhaps a stroke, perhaps a seizure, and became unresponsive.  At the hospital, he remained unresponsive, although he did begin to speak some, though what he was saying was incoherent.  He's in there, though, and that's the point.

They did a CT but really need an MRI.  He just had one recently, with fairly positive results in a very negative situation.  He has tumors of the brain and, almost more scarily, up and down his spine.

His Dad is in the allied health field (that's my impression) and is an avid amateur minister, investigator of God's promises, a tough friend to the deity.  He wears me out, frankly, and bless him for the drive to keep his Lord on his or her toes.  His Mom... she is balance, and I am sure she is sick of it.

I don't think anyone believes Joey is going to survive this cancer, and I hope his Mom and Dad won't reach through my computer screen with a wicked bitch slap.  But goodness, goodness, goodness, he deserves a conscious, peaceful death.  He deserves, they deserve, to feel connected to God, to feel that nothing has been left unsaid.

His Dad wrote, at some point during the night:  "He looks around a lot and seems like he wants to talk. We feel so bad for him. He's looking at me now, the light from hallway shining on our faces. I keep thinking my alarm clock's gonna go off, and ill wake up. or like less than 2 yrs ago, he'd walk up to the side of the bed and put his hand on our shoulders and gently rub our backs Till we woke up. This can't be real-"

So please, dearest readers, do what you do, so well, on Joey's behalf, and do it now.



UPDATE, 2 PM, 9/26/2012:  From Joey's Dad:  "Quick update. The meds needed to control Joey's seizures were stopping him from breathing. Very labored, and episodes where he would stop altogether. They moved us to ICU and intubated him for many reasons. They're gonna throw kitchen sink at stopping these seizures and on a ventilator they can't stop his breathing. Priority #1. We actually don't know if labored breathing is from the meds or the seizures. So gotta stop seizures. You know, I can't keep thoughts straight. Thx for prayers. As I get more info, I'll pass on so we all can be on same page with prayers. Thank you."

UPDATE, NOON, 9/29/2012:  "We just met with the lead ICU team, and wanted to get an update out on where we are at medically. I’ll try to remember all the details. She wanted to emphasize that the Joey we knew, with almost 100% certainty, will not be the Joey we see in the future. And without getting into all of the medical specifics, his brain has suffered so much trauma and injury, they think he won’t be at the “baseline” he was before the initial seizure in the tub. I want to mention too though, that the CT scan and EEG data don’t really show anything. They are going by the “posturing” we saw and some of the neurological deficits they see now. ALTHOUGH, they said in the first 24 hours (after incident or trauma) they always see patients getting worse. After that, we have about 4-6 days to see improvement (no guarantees of any improvement, or could see dramatic recovery, they really don’t know, medically.) They think after the first seizure, his sodium crashed and flushed fluid out of his brain, thus the posturing (and potential for brain damage/death.) This is really concerning. I was standing over him, alone, praying actually, when he went into that modeling pose and to think I was watching the fluid being flushed out of his brain, and possible assault to his brain makes me sick. SO, the fact that the CT scan and the EEG don’t show anything huge (like massive brain bleed) is a positive thing. Also, he pulls away from pain, pupils respond to light, he has been stretching, sometimes will open his eyes, heart rate goes up every time I talk to him, all are really good things. On the other hand, while the drugs he’s on are sedating, we found out, not so much that he couldn’t be waking up (over time, don’t know how much, but slightly concerned it hasn’t happened yet) pulling at the vent, irritated, etc. concerns them. But it could be too early to tell. She really didn’t know much, and we told her appreciated her saying that, other than he won’t be the same Joey we knew…but didn’t say what that would look like etc. Physically? Mentally? Or to what extent we would see those deficits."


Monday, July 18, 2011

Kate's MRI [with update]

Holly McRae's daughter Kate has an MRI scheduled for Tuesday.  Tomorrow.

Kate has what her mother once described as a "very malignant, aggressive brain tumor called a supratentorial primitive neuroectodermal tumor or sPNET."   She's undergone every treatment available.  Her parents and doctors have culled through protocols, and they know they are navigating uncharted waters now that there are new tumor spots.

Still, first grade is just around the corner, and life goes on adding sweet to the bitter.

Theirs is a Christ-centered home and family -- Holly's husband, Aaron, is a pastor and she is clearly faith-driven.  They believe that God can and will cure their daughter.

Every MRI has become critically important, sometimes for all that the scan does not show as much as for what it illuminates.  Holly and Aaron have always been wonderfully explicit in their requests for prayers -- a characteristic of real believers.  (I've been advised many times that God can handle my own pitiful minutiae --from disintegrating thumbnails to an overflowing appreciation for the awesome GirlPower of the FIFA World Cup finalists...)

I've learned that God is tapping me on the shoulder every time one of these real believer types stands in my path and refuses to get out of the way.  (They're incorrigible.)  I would translate that annoying tap::tap::tap into words but this is a G-rated blog, so just imagine God mildly cursing.  I don't mean plagues in Old Testament Egypt or Eve's subjugation, although I suspect that while God has authored a good many such curses, there is no intent to stifle the human response to fight, argue, and revolt.  Indeed, sometimes the divine hand fans those flames. 

Oh, hush.  Yes, I had another "D'oh" moment and didn't delete it. 

Here is the beginning of Holly McRae's latest journal entry over at Caring Bridge.  If you are new to Kate's story, you'll find the two years of journaling insightful, challenging, and -- definitely -- inspiring.  You will pray for Kate, her parents, her brother Will and her sister Olivia;  You will come to care, and very much.

In the post prior to this one, Holly wrote:
We have many prayer requests. Many. So tonight I will name a few pressing ones.
~that the original tumor area on the MRI will show NO change (this is hugely important)
~that the two new tumors would be gone on the upcoming MRI
~that Kate's abdominal pain would subside as she has been barely eating
~that her energy would increase in the next few weeks, so she would be able to start first grade
~that God would miraculously touch Kate's body, eradicate the cancer, heal the damaged areas of her brain, protect her vital structures that are at risk and preserve her vivacious spirit.

Whether you are a seasoned Prayer Warrior, or, like me, a clueless recruit in Intercessionary Boot Camp, that should keep you busy.

MRI on Tuesday....


We always tend to get reflective right before a major MRI. I clean and do my usual organizing. I wonder if it comes from the fact that the day Kate was initially diagnosed I left things in chaos at home. Bowls of cereal half eaten, laundry everywhere, we just dropped everything to go for the CT scan. I didn't step foot in our house again for almost 2 months. Now I always feel the impending desire to have everything in order, just in case we wouldn't come home. I truly don't believe that will be the case, but wonder if experience has dictated these new instincts in me.



The other day we were driving somewhere, it was probably 130 degrees out (slight exaggeration, but only slight) and the kids were giggling about something in the back. I quietly asked Aaron if he could imagine life without the impending thoughts of cancer, without the constant thought if Kate would be with us the following year, without death being a very real and talked about topic. Some are healthy changes. Healthy changes amidst a very gruesome disease. And yet we are still mourning other life changes. Bittersweet. Only occasionally do I let myself even wonder what life would have been like. What sweet Kate's life would be like had cancer never come knocking. I can't let myself stay there. It did happen, and life is different. It will always be different now. I just pray different will become sweeter over the days ahead. Less of the bitter, more of the sweet.


Kate's hair is starting to grow back some. It's interesting so far. Darker in spots. Thicker in others. We still can't tell if it will all come back yet. I get nervous for her some days. The thought of potentially having some permanent hair loss at the tender age of 7. It would be just one more battle to face. I love however that Kate rarely cares, of course she is sure her hair will come back at some point. And of course there is the occasional day that someone stares too long, or turns around to take a second glance, causing her to rethink letting others see beneath her hat. And then of course the fierce mother instinct comes out and my eyes say a million words to them that my mouth cannot. And yet, the other day she offhandedly said she wants to work on being more brave. Where she can take off her hat more readily in public around people she doesn't know. And I tell her she is incredibly brave already. She is forgiving of peoples unashamed stares and rarely complains about not having hair, when most are never thankful for the simple fact that they do have hair. I love that she has a new found confidence in the face of a physically altering illness. That speaks volumes. She is crazy beautiful anyways. [READ THE REST HERE]
That's for sure.




TUESDAY UPDATE:  Holly writes (and Aaron tweets) --
"We have very few details at this time but simply heard there has been 'no change' since last scan! Everything is stable! We praise God for this and are incredibly thankful for every single prayer offered on Kate's behalf."



Thursday, December 9, 2010

all we have to do is keep on walking

Again, I have that feeling of being the Last Known Blogger in the Universe to have seen this YouTube video gone viral.  That incomparable Brother-Unit, Tumbleweed, posted it on another of his blogs -- one that I'll not advertise -- but I like to think I'd have stumbled on it eventually by my own initiative.

He managed, however, to tag the thing with a perfectly apt quotation:

If we are facing in the right direction,
all we have to do is keep on walking.
--Buddhist proverb




Posted on YouTube by derbydanx, with "[t]hanks to Matthew Stevens at Woodbine Racecourse" on November 7, 2010.