Time

I started this blog after some advice from a friend of mine whose wife was going through cancer. He had received similar advice from someone else, and he said it was a blessing for him. I didn't think I would come to appreciate this method of communication, but I'm very thankful to have taken his advice.

But you've probably noticed I haven't posted much lately. Time is a factor. I just have less of it.

More than that, my heart is in the midst of breaking, and I am literally focusing on getting through one day at a time. Trying to hold on to the pieces that matter most and savor every second I can while still living life, being a dad, and trying to manage the unmanageable chaos.

But a post has been overdue.

I've written several over the last few weeks. Some I've started. Some I've completely written in my head. Most have been laments, and I'm a mess before I can even get to the end, so I haven't been able to get one completely written.

And if you're reading these for an update on Joella, here it is: We are down to three paths of hope. A medical trial (no guarantees, but we have an appointment next week). A miracle. An eternal healing. And it's such an irony that as Christians we should long for our heavenly home while we are also wanting to be with those we love and cherish. And if God is ready for Joella to be with him, who am I to argue? I didn't draw the boundaries of the seas or set the stars and planets in their orbits. I'm just a guy who loves a girl, and I want her to be with me, but I also don't want to see her hurting. And I now just find myself praying for more time.

And struggling to figure out what to write.

So I've turned to a guest columnist. My much better half. After all, this is a blog about our journey, and in spite of everything, Joella's still finding joy in the journey. So I'm yielding the keyboard to my incredibly awesome wife. And if you want to see her heart... here it is.

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“But I trust in you, O Lord.

I say, ‘You are my God.

My times are in your hands.'”

(Psalm 31:14-15)

My time is now measured in months and weeks.

We knew the odds were against me with this diagnosis, and I’ve pushed past the original survival rates, which blessed me with added time. But here we are, and I cannot fully wrap my head around it.

And so at 49 years old, I’m planning my funeral.

How’s that for a conversation you need to have with your parents, sister, nieces, and daughters?

There are no lavish bucket lists or wild adventures; this life has been my adventure. And my bucket list is now treasured moments with family and precious friends, reminiscing and sharing life. It also includes discussions with our girls, which they’ve managed with grit and resilience, regarding death, cremation, funeral songs, notification to schools, staying close to each other, and to keep on living life to the fullest.

And in the middle of it all, I’m highly aware of the first part of that verse, “But I trust in you, O Lord.” I’ve never been so challenged by that verse until now.

Do I, God? Do I trust you to take care of my family when I’m not here? Will you guard their hearts and minds when they are walking through their own dark valleys? Will you carry my parents through their golden years with grace and contentment? And will you instill within my sister peace and a deep joy as she navigates life as the only living sibling?

I am learning to let go of those and, yes, trust that God will walk with them all the days of their lives just as He has done with me.

So as I begin to think through my goodbyes here, I am also aware of the hellos to come:

• Seeing the glory of a God who loves me so much that He’s preparing a place for me

• Visiting with His son who took my sins to the cross

• Meeting my favorite person from the Bible, Moses

• Hugging on my precious grandmothers whose remarkable faith and strength remain examples for me

• And seeing my brother again, hearing his hearty laugh fill the air

That is a welcome home party I can look forward to.

So in whatever time I have left here, I am living in this in-between of here and there, reality and surreal.

And enjoying the simplest moments with the most precious people. Thank you for being a part of my life and making an everlasting impression on who I am.

-Joella