A Letter to the Church

Over the past few months my family has witnessed what it really means to belong to and be loved by a church. Our church is not just a place or a building - it is people, it is you. Our church is made up of all of the people that love us, support us, cherish us, and encourage us. This past weekend was the first time in a very long time that Hazel was well enough to attend our home congregation. During that service a letter I wrote was read allowed. On the same day, in several other congregations across two states, similar letters were also being read. We have never personally attended services at some of these churches, and yet we still consider them our church, THE church.

My letter is below. It is addressed to our beloved church family, which includes all those reading these words today. Without you, we would be lost.

To Our Dearest Church Family,

I have struggled to write this letter, not because I do not know what to say, but because there is so much to say. How is my family to portray to you our thanks? How do we show you the level of love you have shown us as our hearts were stripped and laid bare through a fight with an invisible foe? How can we possibly show you how much we have been strengthened and emboldened by your kind words, phone calls, visits, donations, and most of all your prayers?

A simple letter and some written words do not seem in any way sufficient to communicate our gratitude to you for what we have felt from this church family over the past months. But as I sit writing this letter, I am reminded of the parallels I share with Paul as he wrote to the churches in Rome, Corinth, Galatia, and Ephesus. Paul was charged with a task larger than life, one that would shape the course of history and span centuries as he founded, encouraged, and strengthened churches throughout the world, often times solely through his written words. God used Paul’s words and his life experiences to unite Christians throughout time. Words are powerful, words are moving. Words allow us to connect this physical world to the emotional realm that only exists in our hearts and minds. And words can be used by our Savior Jesus Christ to change the world. It is my hope that from these words and through our story, God encourages you all today.

First and foremost, our God is the eternal healer, the Great Physician, the beginning and the end; our God is everything good in this world and the next. He protects us, provides for us, comforts us, and knows all things about us. God knew that one day Hazel would be faced with the horrible disease that is cancer. He knew she would begin her battle this year and only He knows when and how that battle will end. I take solace in the fact that our God is a merciful God and that he has a plan for our family and for Hazel. We trust his grace in the trials that we currently face and keep Him as a rock in our hearts as we continue moving forward on the path toward recovery.

Many of you know us and even more of you at this point have probably heard of us, but there are still some that may not see all that we post online, therefore I will provide a short update on Hazel’s progress thus far. At just two years old, Hazel has been diagnosed with Pre-B Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, which is just a fancy way of saying that she has cancer that affects how her bone marrow makes blood. We praise God every day that Hazel’s particular type of cancer is curable and while her fight is far from over, she has progressed through treatment exceptionally well. She is currently four months into a 2.5-year treatment program that is made up of several phases of chemo treatments with varying intensity. She has undergone several lumbar punctures, an 8-day hospital stay, ER visits, and countless drips of chemo thus far, yet remains as resolute as the day she was diagnosed. She is the strongest person I know on this earth, except for maybe her mother who has been there to hold her for every blood draw, every port access, every surgery, and every chemo delivery she has ever gotten.

Our days aren’t always bad, but they aren’t always good either. Sometimes Hazel doesn’t feel well or her white blood count is too low for us to go out and socialize very much. Other times she is just as boisterous and active as any other completely healthy two-year old and would rather run around outside than be stuck in the house all day. We have to pay special attention to keep her from getting sick as her immune system is often too compromised to fight off even the common cold, but in large part, we have been able to return to a fairly normal everyday routine. About once a week we travel to Columbus for her ongoing chemo treatments and once a month she has a procedure to insert chemo into her spinal fluid via a large needle. Most of her side effects at this point have been manageable, but we do keep an eye out for fevers, sores, or anything that may lead to infection as even the smallest cut could lead to another ER visit and more antibiotics.

Thus far Hazel has progressed exactly how the doctors say she should. She officially achieved remission and was free of all cancerous cells by the end of the first month, which is a very positive sign for her overall prognosis. Our hope is that she will continue to respond positively and be moved into the “Maintenance” phase of her treatment sometime around the end of the year.

Life with childhood cancer can be difficult. Upon Hazel’s initial diagnosis, Elizabeth and I were devastated; absolutely rocked to the foundation of our souls. We cried every day for weeks, not always because we were afraid of losing Hazel, but just because she had to go through all of this. We asked why it had to be her? Why not one of us – if only one of us – instead? She seemed so frail, so fragile as she laid in the hospital bed for that first week, receiving dose after dose of high-intensity drugs designed to help her body wage war on the infringing cancer cells. I have never in my life prayed with more intensity or more often. I found myself praying for even the smallest of victories, hoping to see just a glimpse of improvement each day, which turned into each week, and now each month.

But God knows the pain I and my family are going through. He hears our prayers, acknowledges our lament. I no longer cry every day, but it’s often. I don’t cry out of self-pity or sadness, I cry for what once was and is lost. I cry for my wife, I cry for our kids, I cry for our parents, I cry for Hazel. The pain of watching one of my own, so little, so helpless stuck in the fight of her life is at times unbearable. Much of Hazel’s childhood innocence will be lost in this battle. She will grow up knowing so much more of hospitals, doctors, surgeries, and sacrifice than any two-year old should ever have to. Her summer weeks have been spent traveling to a city we have come to know and a place we have learned to love, but there have been no beach vacations, no dancing in rainstorms, and making mud pies in the back yard.

Our mourning of Hazel’s situation often leads us to think of others who have been touched by cancer as well. During our visits to Columbus, we are surrounded by other families struggling with their own cancer journeys; so many people hurting, so many people struggling to make sense of everything they are going through. In our local community, there are those that have suffered so much longer than we have and still have much longer to go in their battle. Of course we also always think of our church families who have lost loved ones after years of long, hard fought battles with cancer.  Many cases do not have a prognosis as positive as Hazel’s, and we are oft reminded that while we may be hurting, there are still others that have suffered even more than we have.

This is a terrible experience and not one that we would have ever wanted, but through our battle with childhood cancer we have come to appreciate some of what the situation has given back to our family as well. We are given infinite opportunities to see God at work in our lives. We have experienced a tremendous outpouring of love that is as overwhelming now as it was when this journey began. So many people have reached out to us that there is no way to thank everyone for what they have done. We are humbled and filled gratitude for all of the meals, cards, visits, signs, and support that you have provided. You have touched our lives in immeasurable ways and we have seen God’s work through your hands.

Our family is surrounded by a cloak of compassion that swallows up much of the sadness that could fill each day. We know that this is God’s presence surrounding us, protecting us, sheltering us in the storm. Too many times to count we have been teetering at a depressive precipice, ready to plunge forth into another dark valley when a kind word, card, or simple act of kindness has turned our day around. These acts of love are the breadcrumbs that string us along in our everyday walk and we will always and forever be in your debt for providing them.

Christ is at work in our life, now more than ever, and we recognize and cherish the opportunity that this provides our family. Hazel’s pain is temporary, our anguish fleeting. Our experiences now are forging us, strengthening our resolve. With every new challenge and every struggle, we adapt, we overcome, we thrive. Our time on this earth is but a moment in the eternal life that God offers us as Christians. Some parts of that moment are hard, and others are full of joy, but it is all a gift from God.

So as I close this letter, brethren, I urge you to take heart. Be strong, be courageous. Love passionately and guard your hearts against the evils of this world. Do not be downtrodden for our journey is not over, our battle is not lost. The forces of good continue marching forward at a steady beat, shielding those that need protection and strengthening those that are weak. Hazel’s walk with God has only just started, but I am excited to see where it takes her and us from here.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” – Philippians 4:4-8

In Christian Love,

Nat & The Miller Family

A Special Place

“Bye hospital, I lub you.” These are the words that Hazel softly uttered as we rounded the corner on Livingston Avenue and passed the Nationwide Children’s Hospital sign. I quietly fought back tears as the irony of the situation settled deep into my psyche. Her voice dripped with a level of sincerity that I do not often hear from adults – let alone a two-year old – and while she was smiling as she said it, I could hear the gentle sadness that accompanied the phrase. Her intentions were genuine; she does love that hospital and the people that work within its walls. She doesn’t love the mini-marathons of blood tests, accessing and deaccessing her port, chemo drips, belly palpation, and lumbar punctures – the actual fight against cancer. But she does love the hospital for what it represents: hope, life, vitality, and the fight for good.

Nationwide Children’s Hospital is a special, almost spiritual place, and it holds a hallowed position in my family’s hearts. As soon as you lay eyes on this facility, you can tell something is different about it. From the outside the 12 stories of glass windows loom high above the surrounding buildings in the Columbus skyline, appearing cold, foreboding, and intimidating were it not for the light blue and orange butterfly logo that is delicately perched on the uppermost floor. The campus sprawls over several city blocks and is always bustling at any time during the day or night. Gaggles of world-renowned surgeons, doctors, researchers, and nurses hustle along the flower-lined concrete corridors with purpose; focused on an invisible goal that only they can see. The landscaping is beautiful, incorporating a variety of vibrantly colored flowers and exotic grasses that add light to the otherwise bland city landscape that surrounds it.

The main building sits adjacent a park replete with bright red and blue playground structures, swings, and picnic tables. Green metal benches are spaced periodically along the perimeter and are nearly always filled. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers; all families in the midst of their own personal stories, use these outside spaces as a place of respite from the realities that exist mere feet away inside the doors of the hospital.

The hope is that you never have to enter that hospital, but if you do, what greets you is nothing short of spectacular. The interior is cheerful, with walls featuring murals of various nature scenes including frogs, turtles, grasshoppers, and butterflies; floors that use wavy, colored paths to help guide you through the facility depending on department. Colorful bird figurines are suspended from the ceilings, chirping as you pass underneath and trip their electronic motion sensors. As you walk down the hallways you are greeted by six-foot tall wooden bunny rabbits, bears, and tortoises wearing hats. There are two giant, pristine aquariums – one of which is a full 360-degree cylinder – filled with all types of aquatic life. The “magic forest” has huge hollow trees for games of hide and seek and a reading nook cut into the wall where kids can curl up with one of the hundreds of free story books available on the donated book cart.

While much can be written about the decorations, architecture, and layout of Nationwide Children’s Hospital, the most important parts of the hospital – the most valuable assets – are the people employed there. Hazel has never been treated like just “any other patient” by the NCH staff, she has been treated like the ONLY patient. They have seen her as who she is, a special redhead that is smitten with an ugly disease and fiercely loved by many.  

Since the very first time we stepped across the threshold in the ER, every staff member we have met has had a special “spark”, an aura that is difficult to explain but easy to recognize. It’s more than loving their job or having good bedside manner, it is a calling; a deep-seated compassion for children that comes out in every action, every word, every touch.  Everything they do is to help save our children. These people work tirelessly – day in and day out – to save precious young lives. The loving look in the eyes of the NCH staff and the soft tones of voice they use to speak to Hazel are surely God-given and must be how Jesus spoke to the small children that came to Him in Mark 10:13-16.

“People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone, who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”

Many times over the past four months I have been brought to tears by the empathy that our care team shows. NCH has treated Hazel Basil as if she is precious, a special gift to the world, a treasure. Our treatment team has fought for her, cried for her, celebrated her victories, and mourned her losses. They have held us as we’ve wept, reassured us in our concern, and provided advice in the darkest times of our lives. They have seen us at our most raw, watched as we were stripped of everything that mattered most in our lives, and have helped pick us back up as we learn to live with the new normal that is our life. These are our people, the ones that saved Hazel. The ones that cared for her from day one and continue to care for her today. The bond we have created is not soon broken because they are more than staff, they are family.

Everything about NCH is designed to be welcoming, comforting; to promote a sense of wonder and imagination. To make us believe in magic, to look behind leaves for fairies, to believe we can fly. NCH reignites the spark that used to burn deep inside each of us as children. The sense of adventure, the idea that anything is possible, a feeling of hope. Hope that what we see around us is not all there is to this life. That the hate, the pain, the grief that fills so much of today is not what we were put on this earth to experience. NCH recreates the world that our children see every day. One in which race, creed, religious affiliation, or political party does not matter. One in which the fight for life, the fight for good, outweighs the forces of evil.

Our society is in turmoil. Racism, bigotry, and hate still exist, far too often taking center stage over the good and righteous acts that surround us each day. Nationwide Children’s Hospital reminds me that there are still lots of good people doing amazing things in this world. It reminds me that lives can be saved, eyes can be opened, and minds can be changed. NCH gives me hope, not just that we can save Hazel, but that we can save the world too.

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.