Leukemia and Lessons on Control

August 29, 2009, is a date that will forever be burned into my mind.  In some ways, it still seems like it was yesterday that my healthy thirteen year-old son almost slipped away into death.  It was a day that, up to this point, marks the defining event and dominating circumstance of my last decade.  I have been reading my posts and blogs about Brad’s battle with leukemia (and the complications it caused) from the past eight years.  I can still feel the horror of helplessly watching Brad’s unrecognizable body teeter between life and death.  I remember the joy of progress and the despair at setbacks as Brad improved and digressed.

For those who followed Brad’s journey, we only shared a tiny fraction of the daily struggles we faced.  Reading back through the posts, I see how time really does heal the pain as some of the details begin to fade just a bit.  It has been well over a year since Brad has had treatment of any kind, and over two years since he had any spinal/cerebral treatments (which is where the leukemia had relapsed in 2013).  Each passing month decreases the uneasiness of what could be lurking around the corner.

I have learned some significant things through this struggle.  First of all, I’ve learned very experientially that I am not in control.  I could talk at length about God’s sovereignty, but I didn’t really feel it until I was powerless to help my son.  It didn’t matter that we did all the right things, had all the right health care, fed him the right foods, had the right environment, taught the right lessons – he still got sick, and there was nothing I could do to change that.  Secondly, while I am not in control, God has taught me to truly understand that he is.  I’ve learned that even in the most painful of situations, I have to trust that God knows what he is doing despite my inability to see any way things could make sense.

As I sit here, eight years to the day after my son should have died, I want to encourage those who are looking at darkness and see no path to light.  Trust God.  It sounds trite and simplistic, but this is my advice.  Trust that he knows your struggle.  Trust that there is purpose in the pain.  Trust that in the midst of horrible days, he can, will, and does care for you.  Trust that he hears you.  Trust that he wants to be in relationship with you as he’s told us through his Son, Jesus Christ.  Release your attempts at control to him – you don’t have any control anyway.  

I never want to forget what this day means.  I make no presumptions upon God for the future – he could take Bradley – or me – or you – out of this world today.  The reality is, we are all on our way to leaving this world, and today is one step closer to it.  When you have faced this reality, life takes on a new perspective.  We can cling to this quickly-evaporating temporary life, or we can prepare to transition with calm certainty into eternal life through a relationship with Jesus Christ.

Every day is a gift from God.  Although Brad recently had to have some significant surgery to deal with side effects of the cancer treatments, he is doing well.  His last eight years may have been very difficult, but God has given him wisdom and perspective he could not have gained any other way.  That holds for me as well.  In Matthew 10:39, Jesus said, “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  We have to quit trying to “find” our lives and release them to God.  We have to learn to let God be God and quit trying to be the captain of our own souls.  We have to give up the pretense of control we don’t possess anyway.  Then we can begin to better see God for who he truly is.

August 29, 2017 – Thank you God for these last eight years with my son, Bradley.  Thank you for whatever you choose to give me with my family in the future.  May I be grateful for what you provide, no matter what.