We Fletchers enjoyed a beeeeyooootiful day outside playing in the warm Sunday afternoon air. 

As I was shooting baskets with the kids, Anne called timeout and asked them to come sit with her for just a second. She summoned me as the iPhone photographer. For a very particular reason.

Snap. There are my beauties. Sitting on the hot and cold coolers that have received over 180 meals from all of you. 

She asked me to post this picture, with the encouragement to tap into my “creative writing skillz” to express our profuse gratitude for feeding us over the past nine months.

Thing is, I got nuthin’. This picture says it. 

  

Thank you Raleigh. 

Thank you St David’s School. 

Thank you Christ the King Presbyterian Church. 

Thank you friends, here and across the country (literally!). 

We are loved…and we see it, feel it, know it, and are humbled by it. 

With inexpressible gratitude,

Van, Anne, Jack, Luke and Sarah. 

PS – Next week (7th) Anne begins radiation. Pray for endurance, comfort, and effectiveness. Love to you all. 

last. chemo. treatment.

I don’t quite have the energy to capitalize those letters. Though I have a significant portion of treatment remaining, I am happy to say the toughest days will soon be behind me. I’m making it! With lots of help, that is…

…which I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. Samuel Rutherford wrote, “Whenever I find myself in the cellar of life’s affliction, I always look about for wine.” If anyone is wondering what God’s love–the choicest of wine–looks like, there are three stand-outs for me. (When I share these with folks, I get teary every time.)

FIRST stand-out: our kids. We knew from the get-go that shielding them from the woes of cancer would be impossible. We also knew God would use this trial in some good way…some uniquely fashioned way for each of them. Jack, Luke, and Sarah have seen mommy puny, pokey, pukey and bald. Well, Sarah never saw me bald.  She didn’t want to whatsoever. I don’t blame her. Each time I saw my own hairless head in the mirror I was a bit freaked out.  Even still, our kids have grown, have known love, have gotten to know Jesus in new ways, and have had a good year. It took a village. His love endures forever.

A vignette for you…

Sarah’s angst over mommy having cancer showed up in two main ways: Repeated inquiries about when my hair would return. And wakeful nights. Night lights and stuffed animals didn’t offer much consolation.  She needed presence.  Loving, reach-out-and-hold-you presence. Grandma to the rescue!  (Yes, Virginia, there is a Wonder Woman.)  Then, sure enough, as soon as my hair started its comeback, so did Sarah’s sleep.  His love endures forever.

The SECOND way I’ve known God’s love? 180 meals. Count ’em: ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY.  The bounteous gift of meals, meals, meals has been a salient reminder of God’s care for me. In a couple of weeks I’ll be moving from our side porch to the basement two coolers which held specially-delivered meals for the last nine months.  It’s going to be a poignant moment.  A sense of arrival.  But I’m going to miss walking by them each day as they seem to call out, “God loves you.”  Now I’m rethinking my plan…I wonder how much it would cost to bronze them?  His love endures forever.

The THIRD stand-out experience has been the comforting presence of my faithful God.  For me, fighting cancer is an experience of abundance and desolation. The journey is rich and brimming with surprising grace, love, and provision.  And it’s bleak with loneliness, fears, physical pain and long nights of sleeplessness.  An anxious heart is sometimes to blame for the sleeplessness.  Often, my inside-out, upside-down, rip-torn, drugged-up body is the culprit.  It’s a bit out of sync with the cadence of normal life.  However, each morning mercies are new.  Time after time the grace-thread by which I’m “hanging in there” proves enough.  Day by day my soul is being renewed.  Through it all, I can tell you, God is faithful and he is present.  His love endures forever.

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.  His love endures forever.” Psalm 136:1

Gets me every time.

 

 

It’s February!

 I typed that in hopes it would somehow sink in. 

To quote Gary Gnu from the classic 1980s children’s program The Great Space Coaster, “No gnus is good gnus!”

That is, our silence is the unintended byproduct of Fletchers-doing-life-in-the-here-and-now.  

All the more reason to fill you in. So, a scattershot of updates…

Anne has only TWO more chemo infusions remaining! Tomorrow, and next Wednesday. Whoop!

Following a short break, she will start radiation in early March. Everyday, Monday through Friday, for 5-6 weeks. Side effects include mild fatigue, a nasty sunburn, and a heckuva tan on her left side. 

See that too?

Yep. That’s a light. At the end of a very long tunnel.  

Anne’s state of mind seems great, all things considered. There are the latent, lingering fears that the “thief” will not have been fully eradicated by her chemo/surgeries/chemo/radiation treatments, but as we remind each other, what guarantee do any of us have that we’ll be here tomorrow?  

I feel very fortunate to have had a surprisingly busy start to the new year on the real estate front.  January is normally a slower month for me (compared to April-Oct), so admittedly I was a bit blindsided. But thankful. And keenly aware of how my Heavenly Father is looking out for the well-being of my family by giving me fantastic clients. 

My profession as a Realtor does not offer a lick of security nor any semblance of a consistent schedule. Sometimes that wears on my heart, especially when it impacts Anne and the kids. Yet year after year, the Lord provides the Fletchers’ daily bread, despite my thinking that this responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders. He is God; I ain’t. One day I’ll start to get that. 

Jack, Luke, Sarah. Doing great. Such loves. Boy have I seen the Lord’s goodness expressed in their lives over the past year. I think what has really struck me about our children is how they have matured in love, wisdom, kindness, and relationships in spite of the reality that both mom and dad haven’t been quite as available. Anne’s mom Suzanne, our dear friend Manning, teachers at St David’s, our good friends – all have played a vital role in caring for the Fletcher kids during our cancer fight. When I look and listen to them, at times I am humbled to the point of tears because I know their joy and faith have been cultivated by far more than my hands. 

So friends, I fully intended to write more. I wanted to share about sledding, the boys’ basketball, Minecraft (Anne’s hooked, and it’s the cutest thing), and Suzanne’s special award. So much more to share. 

But I’m spent. 

And have miles to go before I sleep. 

It felt good to write this. So many of you care for us. And pray, faithfully. I hope what I’ve shared provides insight into how your prayers are being answered.

These last two chemos will be the toughest for Anne. Pray for perseverance and comfort for her. For healing. And hope. Above all, for her heart to rest in the knowledge that death has no sting, no victory, no power over Jesus her King.