An open letter to the 'sorrowful' this Christmas:

It starts in October. We get ready for the "Hap-Happiest season of all," Christmas. The music starts playing, the ads start running, the sales flyers start coming. We put out the manger scene showing a serene and beautiful Mary hovering over a peaceful and snug baby Jesus, the animals looking on reverently. We talk about the great news of Christ’s birth, how we all should be feeling such joy and peace this time of year. And if you're not a Christian, it's just the joy and peace of the season itself.  We're all supposed to be like the little Who's in Whoville, holding hands, singing.  Presents, fellowship, happy, happy, merry, merry!!

But what if you’re not feeling the hap-happiest this Christmas? What if circumstances of your life can’t simply be covered by wrapping paper and swallowed down with the glazed ham? Is there a place at Christmas-time for sadness? Is there a place at Christmas-time for lamenting? Is there a place at Christmas-time for uncertainty?

Is it possible that the good news of Jesus’ birth has been reduced by society (and even the Church) to a “Joy to the World” cliche? Is this all there is to the Christmas story--joy and happiness?  I don't know about you, but when I think of Christmas being “the most wonderful time of year” it only succeeds in causing a struggling person to feel alienated during this season. Is it any wonder that depression increases almost two-fold during the holiday months?

But I wonder what would happen if we not only emphasized the “good” parts of the Jesus story, but also the parts that aren't so “good.” 

 Allow me to present to you some words and terms from the scriptures surrounding the birth of Christ that you won’t hear sung about this Christmas: 

Fear

Betrayal 

Divorce 

Escape 

Murder

Think about (really put yourself there!) what Mary went through when her family and friends found out she was pregnant—before she was married. 

 Think about what Joseph must’ve felt when he learned of Mary’s “betrayal.” 

 Consider the fear of being in labor with no place to birth your child. Allow me to be bold and speculate that Mary probably felt terrible about having to place God’s son in a feeding trough. 

 Imagine smelling donkey dung while you attempt to nurse your firstborn child. 

 Imagine the fear you’d feel fleeing your country because a political figure wants your child dead. 

 And imagine being a parent in Bethlehem, watching your toddler boy be slaughtered because of one man’s narcissistic obsession with power. Somehow, O Little Town of Bethlehem just doesn't seem like the right song…..

I don’t point to these scriptures because these are what should be emphasized about Christ’s birth, not at all. Emphasizing either extreme is best avoided, of course. But don’t we do a disservice to the Sovereignty of God when we fail to look at the whole story, the story that shows a whole gamete of human emotion? 

 For me, the Christmas story is ultimately about God’s sovereignty. How He orchestrated the events of Christ’s birth just perfectly, just how He wanted them. How he used Herod’s obsessive power grab, Mary’s fear, Joseph’s divorce plans, and a stinky manger, to bring about the most beautiful event in human history. We can read these few verses hundreds of years later and see the beauty of God’s sovereign plan. But for some of us, we need the whole story. We need the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, the heartbreak. We need it because we desperately need to see a God who works through them, designing something beautiful.

So if you’re not feeling like doing the jingle bell rock this year, don’t despair, God is with you. He may have you riding a donkey while you’re nine months pregnant, only to give birth later in a stinky barn with only your clueless husband to help you, but He is with you, rest assured, and He is weaving something glorious.

Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, or whatever you celebrate this time of year. 

May the peace of God rest with you. 

Love, Kristin

Kevin is still suffering some ill-effects of the GVHD in his stomach/intestines that started a couple weeks ago.  He is on more medications now to manage it, but those meds have some nasty, unpleasant side effects.  
I wish we had a concrete and reliable measure of how much cancer killing is going on, but really, that test is the PET scan, and he can only have those every few months.  So not knowing what is truly happening inside of Kev's body is very daunting.  
He is going to work everyday, and in his typical style, battling his way through this like the badass that he is.  I'm so thankful for him and his strength.   
We're still waiting for some good news to confirm that along with this GVHD, we're getting some cancer killing done.  In the meantime, we wait.......

Go along with me on this one, and imagine this:

You're on a boat, in the middle of the night, with your friends.  The wind is buffeting the waves against your small boat, and you can feel the terrifying power of nature as you are rocked this way and that.  You desperately need to get to the other side of the lake because you're meeting your friend there, and he is waiting for you, depending on you.  
Something on the water catches your eye, and, shielding your eyes against the spray of the waves,  you see someone coming.  And this someone has not taken a boat, but actually appears to be walking on top of the water.  As the figure comes closer, you see your boat-mates pointing, their faces full of terror.  You cannot believe it--a ghost!  
But then the apparition speaks, and you realize with equal parts awe and fear that it is your friend, whom you were supposed to be meeting on shore.  
Overcome with faith, you ask if you can step onto the water with him.  He holds out his hand to you, gesturing you forward.  Boldly, you step onto the cold water.  Amazingly, you do not sink, as you take careful and cautious steps forward, toward your trusted friend.  But suddenly the brutal wind sends a large wave crashing against you, and you stumble, almost falling over.  You're sure that the water can hold you standing, but can it hold the weight of you falling?  You feel water starting to close around you and cry out for help.  Your friend is immediately there, pulling you up and back into the boat.  Terrified, you look at your friend for comfort, but he only asks you why you doubted him.  Doubt him?  You think.  It was the water I doubted.  
Hearing your own heavy breath, you realize, suddenly, that everything has gone quiet.  The wind is gone.  Your boat-mates are on their knees, weeping in praise.  This man has controlled the natural elements of this world.  With stunning clarity, you realize that doubting the water was, indeed, doubting your friend, Jesus.  

I sometimes visualize myself actually in the scenarios described in the scriptures.  It reveals to me what my true, natural tendencies are, and helps me to further understand what Jesus asks of those who those who trust Him.  The stunning thing about the above story (which is Matthew 14: 22-33) is how much faith Jesus asks us to have.  Peter was faithful enough to ask to come out onto the water, but that wasn't enough.  He had to have faith that, through Jesus, he could withstand the elements of the most unforgiving part of this world:  nature.

I want faith like that.

When I see the physical struggles that Kevin faces everyday, I feel the water coming around me.
When I read the statistics about myeloma, I feel the water coming around me.
When I see the blood tests, I feel the water coming around me.
When I see the symptoms not improving fast enough, I feel the water coming around me.

But He's looking at me, gesturing me forward, into trusting His sovereignty, his rule over all of the elements.  That he will never allow evil for evil's sake, only for our ultimate good.

Keep the faith.  Love you all,
Kristin

A few days ago, Kev began experiencing some mild to moderate digestive symptoms.  This isn't anything new, he has had these symptoms before, but this time they did not resolve like they have previously.  Instead, the symptoms worsened.
Everyone pretty much assumed it was GVHD (Graft versus Host Disease) since we knew the digestive system is a common area for this to hit, but the doctor still had to run a slew of tests to rule out infections and viruses. 
The outcome was as we expected, GVHD of the duodenum, lower, and upper intestines. 

The bad news:  The GVHD is moderately severe and needs to be put under control.  Right now his intestines aren't absorbing nutrients from food to the level they should be, so he needs to get supplements directly to his bloodstream.  A low level steroid that just coats the digestive tract isn't cutting the mustard, so he started systemic steroids in order lower the donor cells immune response. 

The good news:  The donor cells are identifying foreign substances.  This also includes--you guessed it--cancer cells.  We already see a decrease in the size of the skin plasmacytomas and one of the larger ones has actually disappeared.  This is with no other treatment! 

The "so-so" news:  We want immune response, but we don't want it to this level.  Killing cancer is great, but it has to happen at a level that doesn't kill Kev (pardon the frankness).  The inability to digest food would eventually lead to a poor outcome, obviously, so we are waiting to see how he responds to the steroids.  Hopefully they will be enough and he doesn't have to go back on serious immune-suppressants, since these would also put a halt on the level of cancer killing we're getting now.  It's a dance of the worst kind, but we're happy something is happening. 

Despite all these happenings, the doc decided to go ahead with the radiation to the affected spinal nerve in his lower back.  I'm not sure this is the best move, personally, since the radiation will go through his bowels--that are already irritated--and irritate them more.  But I'm not the doctor and they feel it's still a proactive move. 
I'm not sure at this point if we are going to go ahead still with the chemo (which is planned following the completion of radiation), it may depend on the status of the GVHD, I don't know yet. 

People are asking us if this is "good or bad."  Honestly, I think the scale tips more toward the good side, but I'll be more ready to shout that out once I see this GVHD resolve to a manageable level.  It has already improved moderately but not to the point that we can reasonably live with.

Focus the prayers around continuing to get the immune response but with a reasonable level of GVHD symptoms.  Pray that the doctors make wise decisions and that we receive continued strength and renewed hope.   We're weary, very weary. 

Someone posed the hypothetical to me recently, "so why do we believe?"  It caught me off guard when the answer I've always given: "because of the hope we have," didn't seem to capture it this time, although it is true.
A few days went by before a more comprehensive answer came:  Because I'm fully known.  He knows me truly, fully, deeply.  It is the deepest level of intimacy, completely filling and overflowing what was once a void.

How beautiful.  How amazing. 

Thanks for sticking with us.  We love you all.

Kristin