That Inner Circle

Managed so far to stay outside that line.  But there is a difference between having acquaintances and even close friends fight the monster and having close family members fight it, I've decided.  Yesterday we took a giant step into the inner circle.  It's not a place I'm comfortable being in right now.

We've known for a few weeks about Leo's "mass."  But we could kid ourselves into believing he's just too healthy a guy to have anything like cancer.  Until the doctor returned from OR with the news that the mass was definitely malignant, we could pretend life was just going to go on like it always has for all of us.  But the pretending is over and life will go on, but not without change in one form or another.

Brent's father is a unique man.  While Edna was playing with Ann's daughters and granddaughters over the weekend, we kidnapped him and took him to dinner with us.  He didn't want to talk about the upcoming surgery, so we talked about Toyotas and World War II secrets instead.  He has a lot of opinions about both.  We enjoyed our time with him that night.

Leo has never been comfortable with serious.  He'd much prefer the funny birthday card over the sentimental - at least outwardly;  or even better yet, no birthday and no card altogether.  At least, that's the show he puts on.  But he's got to know that he is important enough to all of us to deserve the birthdays and the Christmases and the Father's Day adorations and the sentimental with it all as well.

And right now, he's in the bull's-eye circle and has to be feeling, I think, very alone.  At least none of the rest of us has stepped in that innermost ring to exactly know what he's going through, but we're in the next ring out and rubbing shoulders with him and praying for him, and carrying some of the fear and the concern and the worry, which he would shy away from, as well.

Today the future has a lot of unknowns in it.  We've entered the waiting game - waiting for the biopsy results, waiting for the treatment plans, waiting for tomorrow and the next day and the next week and the next month - until we hear the word "remission."  But life will continue through that waiting.  And that is the important part.  We have to put this all in the hands of our God, and live each day with each challenge with determination and faith and courage.

The hard part is that we can't take it away from him, and the bottom line is that we will never be able to absolutely step into that innermost circle with him.  The hardest part of the battle is that there are some monsters that can only be faced alone, in a place where mortals are left to fight with the sword of faith they have individually forged over the years.  At that point, nobody else can give him that sword.  All the rest of us can do is support and pray and care and love.  It doesn't feel like much, but in this world, maybe that's enough.

Dad, you may be at the forefront on this particular battle, but you've got the rest of us standing shoulder to shoulder right behind you, and with your faith, you will have God and Christ standing right next to you, and when it gets especially hard, they will be there lifting you up and cradling you in their protective arms.  Just keep on keeping on, Dad.