MRI at CHLA

Well, it makes sense that you’re getting older and understanding more and more of what’s happening.

Tonight, you were so sad because you “didn’t want to get a poke!!!”

You’re so smart that when you asked why you had to get a poke, and I explained that it was because they had to give you medicine to go to sleep so they can take special picture, you asked me, “Isn’t there any other medicine they can give me?”

Bright and early we will head to CHLA, and I know you are so sad about your poke. We read a special book together and tried to get your mind on other things…..

Keep looking up, Buddy Boy.

The Farmer is good, and the Farmer is kind, and He is always watching over you.

Mommy and Daddy will be with you and we will take care of you as best as we can.

Elijah Seth, Four Years Old

Elijah Seth,

It is hard to believe that you are four years old. For four years, you have been such a bright light in our lives and we are so grateful.

In celebration, our family visited the Moxi museum in Santa Barbara and we had a wonderful time.❤️

I love this picture of you because it shows how inquisitive you are. It amazes me that you can still look at the world with such wonder and joy, especially given the way your four years have gone.

I am also amazed by your courage. Despite such difficult circumstances, you still trust Daddy and I. You don’t doubt our love for you even when things just aren’t fair. I can’t even count how many times you’ve been under anesthesia in the last four years, or how many times you’ve been poked, or how many times you’ve been on a plane, or how many doctors you see. But I can count how many times you have gone to a doctor’s appointment without daddy or me: NONE.

No matter how difficult it has been, we have always been with you.

Oh, how I wish I would trust my Heavenly Father this way. To remember that no matter how hard things get, He is always with me and never stops loving me.

I do think it is so cool, that God gave you an army to surround you, to fight with you in your battles. You are dearly loved by mommy and daddy, and siblings and cousins and grandparents and uncles and aunts, and so many more.

The other day when we were doing schoolwork, you put sounds together and read five words! (Granted, all of them ended with -at).☺️. I nearly cried, I was so excited! I don’t think it’s that I was any less excited for your siblings when they reached this milestone….

It’s just that everything with you feels a little miraculous. Having you, almost fours years after you were diagnosed with cancer is a miracle. After so many developmental delays, you talking and walking felt miraculous. After so many sensory issues, you playing with play-doh is miraculous. And for only having one eye, which has had tumors and treatment and scars and corrective lenses in your glasses….well, reading feels so miraculous.

Anyhow. What I am trying to say is that every day with you is a miracle. I pray that you would never stop seeing the world with such curiosity, courage, and hope. I pray that you would always know that you are loved.

We have lots of conversations–sometimes about prosthetic eyes, cancer, clear scans, New York and LA (“you know that Los Angeles is LA!”), and pokes and machines and all sorts of things that both break my momma heart and make it soar. Those are our special talks.

Today, on your birthday, I am so grateful for the miracle you are to our family. You have taught us so much. As we enjoyed the Moxi museum, I saw each of your siblings enjoy you, enjoy each other, and enjoy the amazing way God has created our world.

Today, I just want to enjoy every second of the amazing boy you are. Today, I am grateful for the miracle you are, and I hope that I’ll keep learning from you for years to come.

Happy birthday buddy boy.

Love,

Mommy

Through storms or sunshine: my resolution for 2019

I’m not gonna lie. 2018 was a doozy of a year, and I find myself at the end of it, depleted mentally, emotionally, and physically.

I know that women every day experience the devastation of miscarriage. I think for us, it was just that it was added to by already being almost 4 years in on a sort of lifetime cancer battle with Elijah. It was being all the way across the country, and ending up in yet another hospital far away from home.

It was also the partial molar pregnancy, meaning weekly blood draws, prolonging the whole thing so that it never really gave us a chance to grieve and process because of the looming concerns for my own health.

And, it was just the disappointment…..

When we found out that we were expecting, it felt like sunshine in the midst of a 3 1/2 year long storm. It felt like the tides were turning and it was a new direction.

But it was just more rain. More storm. More pain.

Now, that’s not to say that we didn’t see any good things come from the year. But there were a lot of storms.

Ben’s grandpa hospitalized and eventually home on hospice.

My brother’s devastating car accident following the loss of his home last year.

And those are just the battles I can’t hide. There were many more quiet ones, most of which took more energy and effort than I felt that I had to give.

Insurance battles.

Financial struggles.

Finding our way through right and wrong and desperately trying to do what we believe is right even when it was hard and painful.

Various ailments, and pain, including trying to find a way to help my body heal after so much.

This morning, however, I was reading my Bible and have just come to the story of Moses being called to lead God’s people out of their slavery to Egypt.

I read past the familiar arguing Moses does, “I can’t speak well! Send someone else….”

And I even read past the part where Moses and Aaron go before Pharaoh in obedience to God, asking for the people to be released. And I recalled God telling them upfront that Pharaoh was NOT going to let them go.

So. God told them to do something.

In courage and faith they obeyed.

And it wasn’t going to work.

For some reason, this encourages me. Not every place where we thought we heard and obeyed is going to “work out” how I expected.

And for some reason this morning, what struck me was something I’ve seen many times, but it had a new nearness.

The Egyptian task masters (under Pharaoh’s orders) not only dealt more harshly with the Hebrews, but they made life much more difficult for them. They no longer provided the straw for making bricks, forcing the Hebrews to find and gather it on their own, and yet they did not reduce the quota of bricks they required them to make.

It got worse before it got better.

Now, please hear my heart. I have many blessings to count. Friendships and relationships that I am so grateful for–and quite frankly, I’m sure I would not have made it this far without them.

But at the end of 2018, I found myself identifying with those Hebrews, who were making bricks and had their straw taken away.

I identify with how they were tempted to give up on this whole “rescue” operation, and they even told Moses to go away because he was making things worse!

But I don’t want to miss one of the greatest kindnesses of our God.

You see, this story plays such a central role in Israel’s history…..in the history of anyone who calls upon the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The story of the Exodus is the greatest deliverance story we have.

Until Jesus Christ.

You see, if those Hebrews had thrown in the straw, they would have died in Egypt.

But the most amazing story of deliverance was just around the corner.

The storms, the loss of straw, all of that just made the rescue more brilliant.

The storms were PART of the blessing. Part of the rescue.

And so it is here, in my broken, weary, tired of storms and brick-making that I meet my Deliverer. THE Deliverer.

It is Jesus, who sympathizes with my weakness because he KNOWS what it is like to not want to keep going in the direction he is headed.

He knows what it is like to agonize over the way the Father has chosen.

But he submitted to it.

As for myself, I’m just sort of crumpled on the floor of 2018, thinking, “How can I ever keep making bricks without straw?”

And Jesus is so kind. He whispers gently, “Just a few more days.”

And He isn’t so concerned with my quota of bricks, because He has eyes to see when Egypt will no longer be my home.

He sets my hands free to be part of building His Kingdom instead of making bricks.

I’ve never been a resolution type of gal. I like to plan, I like to set goals. But resolutions always seemed silly to me because they seemed more like casual commitments with no real resolution.

But this year, I think of Jesus. He resolved to set his face toward Jerusalem, towards the hardest, most painful part of his earthly journey, because he had his eyes set on a heavenly kingdom.

So my resolution for 2019 may not sound grand and glorious, but for me it is life-giving, simple, and it is resolute.

I will keep going.

I don’t know how, but everyday I will ask my God to help me set my eyes and my heart on a heavenly kingdom.

I will ask for help when I need it, and I won’t be ashamed to say when I’m just not sure I can keep going without help and encouragement.

I will ask God to give me a song, even when all I see are storms in the forecast.

And I will fall. Many times I may find myself crumpled on the floor worried about all the wrong things like where I am going to get the straw to make bricks.

But after I fall in the presence of my Deliverer, I will get back up.

I will keep going.

So for 2019, this is my resolution. Maybe I haven’t aimed high enough?

I don’t really care.

This is where I am and this is what I resolve.

By His grace, with hope–or waiting for it–I resolve to keep going.

No matter what 2018 has been for you, I pray that 2019 will be about meeting The Deliverer, over and over again, and that he would give you eyes to see a heavenly kingdom, and a heart to love those around you who need a glimpse of it.

May God bless you richly in 2019 whether it is through storms or sunshine.

With love,

The Hester Family