Anne and I have loved all of your thoughtful notes, brimming with encouragement, personal stories, prayers, and offers to help. If they’ve gone unanswered, please know they’re not ignored.  Between real estate, end of school events, doctor appointments, and all the other little life interruptions, it feels as though we are juggling one too many water balloons. So just as you are, please continue to bear with us – Anne and I are both keen on responding thoughtfully, meaningfully. 

One of my bestest friends – whose own father passed away from aggressive cancer just a few months ago – sent us a wonderful email this morning. I felt compelled to share a portion of it, not only for its pastoral tenderness, but also for its humor. You’ll quickly see why I think of him as a “brotha from anotha motha”…

Love is coming your way from Sunny New Hampshire, friends. I’ll pick up where your blog left off and say we are very relieved to know that the cancer — let’s just call it what it is: “Boob ISIS”—has not spread beyond any nodes. Mercies take on a new meaning in a convoluted scene like this, to be sure. As I’ve told Van, we are in the ring with you. If you need us, either of us will be on a plane to Raleigh. If I had boobs, I’d donate them.    

The news of containment is certainly good, and it’s worth poking fun at medical words with too many consonants in celebration (*Why can’t they just call it “Poke-ology?”) But the state of the union is still sobering, and the comfort and hope of your Savior will be needed in the many months to come.