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Home. I have no words to describe how grateful we are to be with our people in our place.

We’ve been enjoying each other’s company and celebrating birthdays (one from today and one delayed because of life’s formerly busy nature and the sudden appearance of brain cancer into our world). We sang the birthday song, and ate ice cream cake, and watched happy children open gifts. It was almost like none of the past several weeks has really existed. Almost.

My previously somewhat straight-laced husband has a mohawk, and it suits him splendidly! It puts his incision on full display, a visible representation of the pain and the grief, and of the protection, the provision, and the mercy of God. I find myself staring at it in mesmerized wonder, overwhelmed at how well loved we are by Jesus and by you. Everything for us is completely abnormal, forever different; and yet, exactly as it should be. I told some one yesterday that this life isn’t what you expect it will be when you’re on the outside. I’ve always been so afraid of letting go, so afraid that God would thrust me into turmoil that I could not bear, and.  .  . do what to me, I wonder now? Leave me? Forsake me? I was afraid of fear, y’all. I wasn’t trusting.

I was terrified of surrender, and when I found myself suddenly living a life fighting the horrible disease that is brain cancer, when I was forced to give over my false sense of control, I found, instead of the loneliness I expected, the very presence of God. Instead of fear, I found peace. Instead of despair, I found hope. Don’t live terrified of laying your everything at the feet of Jesus. When you let go, you will find you are not dangling precariously over the edge of a cliff, but are upheld securely by the strong arms of King Jesus instead.

For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.” Isaiah 41:13

Jesse is doing well at home. He’s relaxed and enjoying being in his own environment. We’re excited to sleep in our own bed tonight, and looking forward to a day with our family tomorrow. His speech has gained some fluidity, though his aphasia is a bit more severe. We’re still working through lots of side effects from necessary medications as well, but we are truly all doing better than expected.  Much love to you all, friends. We are praying over you as you go through your day tomorrow, asking the Lord to use you for His glory and your good.