"In many ways, the story began in mid-September when we thought I was battling a bit of pneumonia. A few blood tests, exams, biopsies, and scans later and…"

We chose those words to start our first CaringBridge journal entry five years ago.

That "and" you see there at the end building tension is a powerful word. This particular conjunction used in that specific moment carries special weight. We had no clue how significant that was when I put it there five years ago. 

Initially, the "and" eluded to Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma diagnoses and a prescribed treatment plan that would consume every moment of our time, every emotion, and all our imaginations for the foreseeable future. 

In truth, one of the rewards of chemotherapy is the foggy memories it leaves you with. There are stand-out stories I'll never forget; weeping in the shower over my depleted state, laughing in the kitchen with my beautiful "Nurse Bethany," and holding my kids just a little tighter each day are among my most treasured. Still, the everyday moments are a mist of memory at best. 

What has come clear through all that mist is the treasured collection of "ands" that we will treasure forever. 

1.  "And" God healed: 

I am so excited to report that my five-year scan came back clean! This result means the original treatment plan has come to a close, and the doctors have pronounced me cured. Hallelujah, Jehovah Rapha! 

God has healed my body, and I no longer suffer the side effects or the fear of their return. God has healed my body, and I dream of a long future with my family. God has healed my body; I am excited to run, laugh, play, build, and be! 

Moreover, God has made this circumstance bow to His authority so that He has healed far more than my body. I've recently heard that "suffering is God's strategy for sanctification." My life testifies to this truth. Today, on this side of my scan results, I am not yet who I want to be, but I am also not who I was before cancer. Today, my identity in Christ is more rooted than ever, my compassion for actual suffering is deep, my convictions for the Gospel as our greatest hope are built on experience, and my adoration for who He is equal to my gratitude for what does.

Suffering is not a virtue. We do not seek it out for its own sake. Still, suffering from this cancer has healed my heart in ways I never dreamed of. Never, ever do I want cancer again, and never do I want to forfeit the sanctification this suffering gave.

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. - Romans 5:3-5

2. "And" community surrounded us 

Without a doubt, when Bethany and I received the five-year results, the first thing that came to mind was the hundreds of people who walked with us.

To our Sonlight and Lynden family. I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all, making my prayer with joy because of your partnership in the Gospel from the first day until now. 

Our family had the honor of receiving your surrounding care so that we were held up in love. The anonymous acts of kindness, the practical gifts of time and talent, the financial burdens removed, and your willingness to listen, share, and bless. They all represent the precise part of our story we cannot tell without tears (even now). As someone recently said, "This is worth crying for."

Above all, thank you for praying for me and my family. That mattered. Never stop loving like Lynden. 

3. "And"  friendships were cast in stone

Amid the hundreds, some precious people seemingly stopped when our lives came to a screeching halt. You showed up at our door and gave the gift of your presence. Our burden became yours to share. 

You walked with us without answers, without the fix, without a flood of words, without the need to be cared for. You just hurt, laughed, and cried with us. 

It was the time you gave that made us feel seen — even understood. We would stop everything and come to you... come to and love you back if needed.

In life, laughter builds friendship, and suffering builds family. It is true; our suffering transformed our friends into family. We love you so very much. Getting our "cured" news so far away from you was painful.

4. "And" Colorado called

Five years ago, we never would have dreamed our cancer road would lead to Colorado. It's been a wonderful dream. There's a song that plays from time to time that goes, 

So won't you come out here with me

And chase this rocky mountain freedom

Let that mile-high air you breathe in

Wind you where the river rolls

Yeah, we're born where we're born

But I feel it deep down in my bones

My heart beats in [Washington]

But my sunsets in Colorado

Those lyrics ring true for us. In just 16 months this place is already home. How blessed are we to have struck it rich twice where some have not once? To our Colorado friends, thank you for finishing this chapter with us by welcoming our stories, sharing our joy, and celebrating our joyful sunset over a Rocky Mountain skyline!

5. "And" we will never be the same again

On my chest, I have a port scar. It may fade, but it will never disappear. All these "ands" (there are more, but readership this deep has already waned, I'm sure) may fade, but they'll never disappear. Cancer has changed everything from pastoral care to preaching, family life, and friends.

There is a why behind all this change. It's the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Every truth written here is built on the Love of Jesus Christ to change everything. And so, after five years, I will shout to the Lord.

Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty, for all that is in the heavens and in the earth is yours. Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as head above all. — 1 Chronicles 29:11