Choose to Believe

Today, a year ago, Drew completed his last radiation treatment.  It was such an emotional day, and in a good way!  I remember being so overjoyed, so hopeful, so proud.  Proud of my strong, brave boy who had endured so much.  Our whole family was there--Molly too--to be with him that final treatment day.

And watch him "Ring the Bell"--a tradition at Mayo which marks the completion of your treatment in radiation oncology when it was through.

"Ring this bell
Three times well
The toll to clearly say

My treatments are done
It's course has run
And I am on my way"

The treatments were done, we were feeling like we were almost done, and on our way...

I'd watched him literally "grin and bear it" through each of the 6 chemo cycles.  I cleaned the incision where they opened him up to remove the last of the tumor.  And I'd held his little hand while the high dose chemo made his bones hollow, and then the stem cells grew to fill them back up again.  Twice.  And at this time a year ago, I'd just seen his eyes roll back in his head, hands still holding onto his toys, as he went to sleep 13 times over the 2 1/2 weeks so the beam of radiation could hit him just where it was suppose to.   The actual toll to ring that bell cost us so much, but we made it.

And beyond the accomplishment we felt, there was so much hope.   I was so sure he was going to make it.  He was going to finish this, and be one of the lucky survivors.  He had come so far.  Only one more treatment phase to go.  At diagnosis the doctor told us this would be like a triathlon since the cancer was so widespread.  On this day a year ago I felt like we'd gotten through the swimming, the biking, and were now halfway through the final obstacle.  The end was in sight.  Drew was so strong.  The doctors were so optimistic about how he was doing.  Everyone cheered, and we all nearly burst with so much emotion after 9 long months of what we had endured.  We were allowing ourselves to feel a little relief.  To celebrate after all we had withstood.

And then.  Two weeks later.  The day after Halloween, we learned the cancer was already back.  More accurately, never really gone.  We were told that at this point, since it was there, he would "probably" not survive.  That he could possibly only have months to live, which indeed turned out to be true.  He'd have 11 weeks and 2 days from that day, November 1st.

The whiplash was awful then, and it feels almost as awful now looking back.  Seeing all the happy memories, reading such positive CaringBridge updates from last year, and remembering triumphant days like this one has been so hard.  Its difficult to see how high we were on top of the mountain we had climbed, and know how great the fall would be.  But I know we did everything we should have.  Medically, but also emotionally.  We were thankful, we did choose joy most of the time.  We had an attitude that was fueled by God.  He gave us the wisdom to enjoy each day we had, and we listened.  I know there was nothing we could, or should, have done differently. 

But that almost makes it worse.  It's so unfair.  Yes, we did have the right attitude, we did listen to God and obeyed.  Where did it get us?  WHY didn't it work out?  It should have.   Drew deserved to "beat" this as much as any other kid.  Our family tried so hard to positive, and what did we get in return?  I think many of you probably saw this last year, as it happened.  Maybe some of you had these thoughts and feelings for us as it unfolded.   And over the course to of the last almost 9 months since I watched him take his last breath, I've felt this way before.  But back then, we couldn't stop and think.  We had to keep going.  We couldn't get discouraged, and I'm so thankful we didn't.

But for a couple days, I've let those thoughts and feelings come back, and linger.  I've entertained the beginnings of anger, and resentment.  I haven't been thankful, or choosing joy like I preach.   I've just cried.  And felt sorry for myself.   And honestly, it has felt kind of good.

But I know I can't stay.  My head is trying to convince my heart we can't stay here.  We have to have faith.  This is the believing part.  We don't have the answers, and won't in this lifetime.  This doesn't make sense, and it does seems so, so unfair.  But we have to believe it will become clear some day.  This isn't the end of the story.  We have to hang on, and trust in Him, even, or maybe especially, when it doesn't make sense.  We have to have faith it will be made right in the end, and that we'll be with Drew again.  Take that leap of faith, consciously choose to believe.

If we don't, if I were to accept these invitations to be bitter, then we let death win.  We forget that Jesus has paid this debt to death, and we give it power over us again.  I would become a victim and accept defeat, if I chose to give into those feelings.  And I refuse to do that.  I'll cling to the Truth that through Him, I don't have to.  We can overcome this, and we are, with the power of God.  Cancer can't take anything more from us, including my hope and joy.

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope." 1 Thessalonians 4:13.   I can indeed grieve this great loss, but not like others with no hope.  Because we do have hope.  His sacrifice on the cross did save Drew in an eternal way, and it has saved me from being enslaved to grief, to be ruled by the sorrow of Drew's death today.

I hope you can see in this post that all this thankfulness and joy stuff I talk about is a daily choice, a daily struggle.  It's a constant battle, not a one time decision.  And through my own strength, clearly, I don't make the right choice all the time, like these last few days.  And maybe that's good in a way, to remind me how inadequate I really am on my own.  Heidi Becker would be just as much of a mess as the next Mother would be in this situation.  But more times than I'm capable of on my own, God helps me to make the right choice.  To open my eyes to all I have to be grateful for, which leads me to that peace and joy that I am really craving.  And it's easier to trust Him.  And to not give into those temptations to doubt, and be angry in the first place. 

It's a beautiful circle, really.  And I hope and pray that I never lose sight off or fall out of it.  That I can always get back here, to a place of hope and joy in the promises we have in the Lord.  To have faith like a child, and live in the moment; to be thankful and chose joy when despair is so much easier.

Just like a pretty amazing little boy I know named Drew, who taught us this and so much more about life, even though his was far too short...