About six weeks ago, EvanMarie’s primary care physician felt a mass in her abdomen and heard a heart murmur in our youngest granddaughter. Time has been hazy ever since. It dawned on me today that her third birthday is in just seven weeks. I’m not sure if she will be at home or in the hospital, but we’ll find a way to celebrate.

Walking, a couple days ago, I felt a twinge of pain in my right knee and remembered that her right knee has been bothering her for weeks. I made of my little pain a prayer to God for the eradication of cancer from her bones and her whole body.

Yesterday I awoke dizzy and nauseous. Doug helped me do the Epply maneuver, and the dizziness subsided. Then I remembered that EvanMarie suffered nausea from her most recent round of chemotherapy. I offered God my nausea and asked for her healing.

An offering of everyday sufferings on behalf of others who also suffer. has long been a part of Christian tradition. I find comfort in praying this way. It gives me something to do with my pain and reminds me that many others are hurting too.

EvanMarie is currently home and her treatment includes a daily injection. Yesterday morning her dad had the dreadful task of administering the shot while her mom held her. As they were preparing, EvanMarie asked if I could be there too. I’m not sure why she asked for me, but it felt like a great honor to be chosen by her. I did nothing but sit nearby and witness her fear, pain, cries and tears. Perhaps that’s all she needed from me. But it felt like too little.

I’d willingly take her suffering on myself (as would so many others) but while bargaining may be a stage of grief, I’m acutely aware of my complete lack of negotiating power with the Creator of the Universe. Still, I struggle to accept that fighting cancer means ongoing pain and suffering for our little EvanMarie.

I can choose to find joy in a multitude of good and beautiful gifts that come in the midst of this journey. There are good gifts galore. Her siblings seem to draw from an endless well of compassion, tenderness, and creativity when it comes to their youngest sister. For a single smile from her, they’ll engage in ridiculous antics.

It’s both heartbreaking and beautiful to hear EvanMarie ask about food being offered to her, “Is that cancer-fighting?” In the next breath she confidently declares, “Avocados are cancer fighting.” I’m grateful that she likes avocados and that we live in a place where they are readily available.

I’ve countless other reasons for gratitude. To help pay for expenses beyond what insurance covers, hundreds of people are contributing whatever they can afford. Others provide the family with plenty of nutritious meals. I’m thankful for the doctors who are constantly learning how to best fight cancer in children. and for neighbors who help with practical things like cleaning the house and the van. I’m thankful for Doug who is completing projects in their house that otherwise wouldn’t get done, and for Xhiv with her charism of calming presence, and for Chris who is eager to do whatever he can to help. I’m thankful for family and friends who’ve sent books and recordings and sensory toys to provide comfort. I’m thankful for those who think of the older kids and give them the attention and care they need. I’m thankful for the hundreds of people praying for EvanMarie.

And I’m immensely thankful for our home just one door away where I can be here for whoever needs a safe place, and where others are here for me.

If our Evan Daniel hadn’t left this world when he did, we wouldn’t be here for EvanMarie and her whole wonderful family. I never imagined I could be even remotely grateful for his departure. It seems incompatible with loving him forever. But, here I am; incredibly grateful that the sorrow Evan left behind continues to teach us about loss and love.

Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.

– 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

This morning EvanMarie had to go back to the hospital due to a fever. “It’s part of the cancer-fighting journey”, doctors say, “and to be expected.”
I’m so grateful for all the love surrounding her, here on earth and, on this All Saints Day, also in Heaven.