22 March 2008
Saturday morning
Houston, Texas
 
A prayer on silent Saturday

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

I deliberated whether to write to you today or wait until next week, after our son Everett undergoes a PET scan and MRI to reassess the extent of his cancer. The scans will show whether or not he is responding to an experimental drug for his particular disease, Ewing’s sarcoma. After I wrote to you last month, we learned that his cancer had developed resistance to the first-line chemotherapy that we had hoped would shrink his tumor enough to allow the surgeon to operate. As the second-line chemotherapy is more toxic and would be followed by more extensive surgery, Everett's oncologist recommended we try this new, safer drug that might obviate the need for that difficult course of treatment. The new drug, an antibody against a growth factor receptor in the cell membranes of Ewing’s sarcomas, is in the very early stages of testing. It appears to work well, but only in a small proportion of patients. The scans next week will tell us if Everett is in that group.

Uncertainty is the hardest part of cancer treatment, especially when you’re up against an aggressive and relentless tumor such as Ewing’s sarcoma, and when it affects your child. I feel like my family has been thrown overboard and swallowed by a great fish and, like Jonah, is waiting now in silent darkness, aching to see even the softest light, to hear even the quietest word of hope. Like the stripped sanctuaries of churches around the world this day, which in Holland is called Silent Saturday, no words are left in our hearts but the primordial prayer that God will look upon us in our infirmity and have mercy.

That is why I decided to write to you today, to ask you to pray that prayer with us. As we wait together with you in silence for the Word of salvation, please pray for Everett and our family—that God will look upon us and be gracious unto us, lift us out of the depths of our uncertainty, and give us hope for new life. I can only believe that this is why Christ suffered, died, and was raised—so that we might be able to pray that prayer and wait patiently for the One who cares for us.

With gratitude for your unfailing friendship and love,

Les

The 2008 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 89