Archive for August, 2008
Pictures, Video from Sir Ian the Brave (Pictures, Ian, Video, Fun Stuff)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on August 24th, 2008
As Deb wrote on our Caring Bridge site, we had a special day yesterday. We attended the Renaissance Festival in Shakopee, MN. Deb was able to arrange for Ian to go backstage and meet a couple of the knights in the jousting troupe New Riders of the Golden Age. Ian was a little too nervous to ride on a horse, but they were gracious enough to allow Ian to teach a scoundrel a lesson in manners:
The members of the troupe were very gracious and friendly. We want to give them a special “thank you” for giving us another great memory.
Here are a few pictures from the event:
The master of ceremonies, Kelly Baker, is also the director of the group.
He took time out of his schedule to show us how things are done, and made it a very special day.
A knight in the opening ceremonies
We had great seats for the tournament.
One of the ladies of the court, Lady Jane (the one on the right),
was kind enough to let Ian stand with her to get a better view of the action.
Sir Orrin performs a tight turn. Well done!
A salute from Sir William
In addition, we enjoyed the talents of Tuey Wilson, a longtime feature at the Renaissance Festival (28 years!). The man has an uncanny sense of balance:
By the way, the interruption in the video is me being hit with a Nerf dart. You’d think he would have the first couple of rows of the audience sign a waiver or something…
All in all, it was a wonderful day. We’re making it a point to cram as much fun into the second half of our summer to make up for the first half.
As a quick aside, the boy is losing weight. The first half of the summer, we kept having to buy new clothes because he was outgrowing them. Now that his appetite ranges from diminished to normal, his weight is going back down. Pong!
It’s a Good Thing I’m Not God (Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on August 19th, 2008
Ian’s asleep on the couch right now, and I wish that I could join him. I’m exhausted after this day. It’s been the culmination of months of waiting, hoping, praying and, unfortunately, worrying.
For anyone who isn’t reading our Caring Bridge site (see link above), today was the first MRI we had since we got the diagnosis. After all 30 days of the radiation treatment, hundreds of thousands of prayers, tears and flint-faced resolutions, we got to see where we stand. Everyone I know, myself included, has been praying that when we see the MRI, there would be no tumor. It seems like a logical thing to want…right? No tumor means that the problem has been solved, and we can get on with our life, albeit a little more appreciative.
During the MRI process, Deb and I prayed. A few times, I looked over my shoulder at the monitor that showed the current reading. Most of the time, I couldn’t see much (I was not allowed to wear my glasses in the chamber); one time, my heart sank when I could see the top-down view of my son’s head, and a bright spot was visible right where I thought the tumor was supposed to be.
Afterwards, we passed the time playing Yahtzee in the waiting room (BTW, don’t play Yahtzee with that kid; dice love him.) We tried to finish the game in the examination room, but were interrupted byhis doctor. After a little bit of small talk about my MP3 player/voice recorder, he settled down to show us the results. I’m afraid that if Deb and I had been holding hands for any longer than we did, there would have been broken fingers on both sides.
Two-thirds reduction; the tumor is still there, but it’s only one-third as big as it was at the end of May.
The tumor is still there.
That sentence resounded in my head like the echo of a gun shot.
A gun shot that sounded like…PIIIIIINNNNGGGGG…
The good doctor had tried to prepare us for this result. A month ago, he told us that he expected to see something today, and he was correct. All of the fasting and prayers that people have been doing…this was our shot. After this, there isn’t any other treatment that he recommends.
But, Ian’s doctor explained that this is a good result. It’s his experience that when tumors disappear quickly, they regrow very quickly (with a vengence, if you will). He further explained that he was very happy with the outcome. He also told us about another little boy in his care who also has DIPG, and has lived five years with a tumor in his brain stem, with no effects. (pong, pong and pong)
So, my will was not done. I was wishing, hoping and praying that the MRI would be clear. It’s a good thing my will was not done. And we’re back to enjoying each day with our son, thanking God for every one as they happen. That’s not a bad place to be.
Gratitude, pt. 2 (Graces and Mercies)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on August 11th, 2008
The Lord has been good to us.
One particular blessing happened over the weekend. On Saturday, I decided to tackle the fact that my truck was leaking antifreeze, and for some reason the problem wasn’t going away by itself. I was hoping that the problem was going to be easy (cracked hose) and cheap instead of difficult and expensive (cracked radiator). After filling up the cooling system and letting the truck run, I found the source of the leak. The black thingy sticking out of the big metal part was gushing antifreeze.* I called my friend Steve Coffield about it, and he graciously came over and was able to stop the leak. Then, he fixed something else that was probably going to either eventually strand me in the middle of 494, cost us lots of money, or (most likely) both. Then, he noticed that one of my tires was about to give up its rubbery ghost. After a quick trip to Wal-Mart for a pair of replacements, Steve graciously balanced and mounted them.
Steve, thank you for giving of your time and talents. You saved us quite a bit of money, but more importantly, you kept me safe on the road. You have a gentle, servant’s spirit that is a reflection of Christ. Also, you are being a great steward of the gifts that God has given you. Thank you very much for your help.
*Yes, that’s about as technical as I get when dealing with engines.
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Thank you, Lord, for those who continue to come around and support us.
We have had many offers recently from people who are willing to take Ian for a while to let us find a few of our marbles. Thank you to everyone who has come forward. It gives Deb and I a few moments alone together, and it gives Ian something to look forward to. A big “thank you” goes out to Deb’s mother, who graciously offered to take him for a couple of days. This is a great break, allowing Deb and I to reconnect, spend time with God and have a little fun.
* * *
Lord, thank you for those who continue to pray for us. Also, thank you Lord for those who have walked this road before, and impart their experience and wisdom.
Finally, thank you to everyone who has been praying after I made this post. Things are much better than they were. I’ve been able to work out more often than I was (i.e., working out period), which definitely helps how I feel and how I see myself. Also, God has been using The One Year Book of Hope by Nancy Guthrie to minister to me. It may be a bit early to go too far into this book, as it deals with loss, and Ian is still with us. However, it’s helping now, and I’m learning to live more in “the now.” I’m also spending time reading Disappointment with God by Phillip Yancey. From what I’ve read so far, I think that this book is going to lead me through some emotional honesty that I’ve been scared to explore.
Camp Hopeless (Responses to Our Culture)
Posted by Tom Henderson in Uncategorized on August 9th, 2008
I was listening to National Public Radio a couple of days ago, and was stuck by a story on the show All Things Considered. The piece described Camp Inquiry, a summer camp for children who would describe themselves as “free thinkers” or “skeptics” (if you want, you can read the transcript here). I was all but dumbstruck as 12- and 14-year-old kids proudly declared that their world was “a beautiful mistake or something.”
In another example, parented of a camper were interviewed. The father, who is an atheist but married to a Catholic, has allowed his children to be raised in that faith, but just wanted “the chance for rebuttal.” He said “As soon as they read Richard Dawkins, I win.” How do you “win” in that situation? He is spending his life competing with hiswife, two different world views at odds with each other. That seems to be like partners in a three-legged race who are facing opposite directions.
The only time the campers had nothing to say about their belief* was when they were asked by the reporter what happens if they die. A couple of quotes from the article:
“It’s a scary thought, not existing. But it’s not anything I can stop, so I’m going to use what time I have to do everything I can and would like to do,”
“I’m terrified of not existing…I’m kind of stuck there. I don’t know what else to think.”
There is one thing that everyone who has ever been on this planet has gone through, or will gone through (save for a few exceptions; see Gen. 6:24, 2 Kings 2:11-12): death. It’s inevitable. Everyone will experience what happens after this life is over. If your worldview can’t give some account for it, then I would recommend re-evaluating it. If the best that you can come up with is that after this life, you are gone, nothing…then it doesn’t matter what you believe, now does it?
I doubt that there are any skeptics or atheists, or even agnostics who are reading this. But if there are, please respond to that last question. If, after this life is over, there is nothing, then what does it truly matter what you believe? (I moderate comments, so only well thought-out responses, please.)
*An atheist would correct me, and call it “non-belief”; I’m sorry, but stating that there is no God is a belief, and takes much more faith than I have.
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Last night, we went to Valleyfair, a local amusement park. It was a fun evening, for the most part. There were a few sprinkles of rain, but we used that as an opportunity to rest. The other shadow on the evening was an incident while we were waiting in line for the ferris wheel. Behind us in the queue were two teenage boys, who, evidently, were not raised with proper manners. At one point, their language went from merely boorish to foul. I decided that I wasn’t going to allow this in front of my family. I turned around, turned up the intensity in my “daddy voice” a few notches, looked them in the eyes and said “Watch you language. There are kids here.” That was enough, although one of them tried to save face in front of his friends by stating that when he had kids, he would let them swear.
In the end, it was over in a minute, and nothing else happened. I saw them a couple of times later, but there was no further exchange. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but thing of this.
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