Dearest friends and family members,

It’s been a few weeks since my last post, but I wanted to update you on some recent developments.

Firstly, Lindsay and I have located an apartment close to the hospital—a place to call “home” while I recover from the transplant. We haven’t locked it in just yet. But the apartment manager assures us that something will be available when we need it. Thank you so much for praying about this!

Secondly, at long last, I’ve been scheduled to be admitted at The James on Friday, June 14th. At that time, I’ll have a CVC port placed in my shoulder, and I’ll undergo a week of heavy chemo in order to wipe out my immune system. And then, if the Lord wills, on Thursday, June 20th—the day my brother/donor was born—I’ll be infused with his cancer-free bone marrow.

Curt (my brother) has been such a gift to me throughout this battle. And to think that, on the same day his life began 33 years ago, his perfectly-matched marrow might give me new life? My eyes are welling up just thinking about it. And the significance of the date doesn’t end there…

It was June 21st of last year when Lindsay and I left the oncology office for the first time. After sobbing in the car for what felt like forever, we headed home to huddle-up our kids and to convey to them (the best we could) the horrible news we’d just received. June 21st was a very dark day. But if I’ve learned anything from Good Friday and Holy Saturday, it’s that God likes to work in the dark. If He is willing, this coming June 21st won’t be the first day of the end. It will be the first day of a new beginning.

“…I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live…” — John 11:25

While I await the transplant, in order that the cancer would be kept from rebounding, I continue to receive what I call, “maintenance chemo”. Even though it’s a lower dose of chemo, and even though I only receive it twice a month, it’s making me pretty sick. I think because I’m in remission (Praise God!), I expected to start feeling better. But with no cancer to fight, the chemo is just coursing through my body; making me physically sore, emotionally depressed, and mentally fogged (“Chemo Brain”).

Having said all this, would you please pray:

- that God’s Spirit would comfort and sustain me; that He would restore and renew my mind…

- that God’s provision of a “home away from home” would be solidified, according to His timing…

- that God’s Hand would be upon my brother and me:

    > granting safe travel

    > allowing us to pass the necessary checks/tests

    > ensuring a successful graft (Curt’s marrow with me)

- that God’s comfort would envelope my wife and kids and parents…

- that God’s Name would be glorified before the Doctors/staff

I can’t tell you the number of times a nurse or hospital worker has looked at me and said, “You must have a lot of people praying for you.” Every single time, with a smile on my face and a song in my heart, I’ve confidently replied, “You have no idea.”

I love you. And I’m so thankful for your faithful, fervent prayers.

Glory & Joy,

Chris