Angels in White Coats

“Jesus withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” – Luke 22: 41-44

I have been in a church pew every Sunday morning since I can remember and spent many of my summer nights as a child attending gospel sings, revivals, and church picnics all throughout the Mid-Ohio Valley. I have attended small mountain-town churches, large, multi-service mega churches, Christian music festivals like Alive and Creationfest, and went to summer church camps each year since I was 10 years old. I grew up believing that I did not have a “testimony” because I didn’t need one. My faith was built over decades that spanned a lifetime and my relationship with God was created from knowledge gained from long-term personal studies. I did not have a single event in my life that I could point to as a defining moment for my faith and naively believed I never would…until Hazel’s diagnosis.

In April of this year, I had my world shattered, my legs cut out from under me by a direct attack on my child. She was innocent, unassuming, and pure, stricken by an invisible, insidious disease over which I have no control. The weeks and months since have been a mess of emotions as I and my family have attempted to adjust to this new reality and help Hazel focus on her battle with Leukemia. I have been forced to do little more than watch as Hazel fights for her life, enduring countless hospital visits, rounds and rounds of chemo, and side effects that have ranged from benign to disgustingly evil.

If there is an event in a lifetime that can serve as a defining moment, it is certainly a cancer diagnosis. As a parent, there is nothing that can prepare you for that moment. We constantly worry about our kids when they are healthy, but it reaches an entirely new level when we know they are sick, really sick. This isn’t cutting grapes in half so they don’t choke or ensuring they wear a helmet when they ride a bike, this is cancer. It's life or death. It's survival. A struggle of this magnitude demands our respect, weaves its way into our psyche, and changes us forever.

I have been told that our family’s story has given others hope, has strengthened their faith because we stand strong in our testimony during this trying time. I would love to be able to say that I am living my testimony now, that this experience has created in me a belief so strong that I can move mountains. But the truth is I don’t really know if that is accurate or not. Is it really faith that I have, or is it simply a crippling fear of losing my child to cancer? How can people look up to us as an example if what keeps us going every day is not just an unwavering faith in the good, but a deep understanding and fear of what the bad looks like?

Every day when I wake up, I am faced with the realities of eternal good and damning evil. The Devil lurks at my door waiting for the final chink in my already cracked armor that will allow him to fling an arrow at my tired heart. He searches for the final straw that will break the back of my camel, and allow him an avenue to destroy the foundation of the faith that I have spent decades building. Up to now, I have kept him at bay. Every good report from Hazel’s doctors vaccinates me a bit more against evil’s advances, and every setback brings me a bit closer to tumbling over the precipice into the abyss of despair.

I will always yearn for my life prior to Hazel’s diagnosis, I will reflect on this period of active battle with a deep-set bitterness, and I will cherish my time after with the utmost reverence for our blessings. Life’s defining moments hold an immense importance because we are given the choice of two paths: one path that allows extreme heartache, pain, and fear to crush all that is good in us; the other path uses our pain as a catalyst of antithesis, providing spiritual growth and strengthening in the face of true adversity. Our path is still being formed, and at times, just like Jesus in Gethsemane, we beg for our cup to be taken from us. But also like Jesus, God often sends us angels to help strengthen our resolve and grow our character.  

I know that angels exist on this earth. I have witnessed their works and felt the hand of God delivered through them daily. I know several angels by name and have developed deeply personal relationships with them during Hazel’s journey.  My family has been hugged by them, consoled by them, we have laughed with them, and cried with them. Many of the angels that have visited us have come cloaked not in a ring of light, but in white coats. Our most recent visit came on Tuesday, following our latest admission to the hospital for Chicken Pox.

A doctor from our original attending team found that she had a rare day off. A day of rest from the constant pressures of 12-hour shifts in one of the busiest hospitals in the world, and one that normally would have been spent catching up around her house or spending time with her husband. Instead of spending Tuesday at home relaxing, our angel chose to come into the hospital and spend six hours in a full gown, respiratory mask, and gloves visiting and comforting Elizabeth, Hazel, and I as we were quarantined in our room on H12. This individual has only known our family for eight months, but calls all our children by name, has sat listening intently to each of our birth stories, and constantly tells us that our blog is a beacon of faith that helps keep her strong as she continues caring for all the little ones that enter NCH’s doors. She is but one angel in a sea of white-coated angels, but she is a special one to us.

I don’t know that our story is one of spiritual triumph and I don’t know that we are the best examples of strong faith, but I do know we see more of Christ each day through the examples of others. Our experience with cancer has created holes in our hearts, but it has also surrounded us with beautiful people. People that give of themselves freely and work tirelessly to do good in the face of the evil in our world. People with big hearts, unyielding compassion, glowing empathy, and focused ambition to save lives. These people, these angels, are God’s gift to us in this trying time and they have forever changed our perspective on the world. We are forever in their debt.

“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.” – Roman 8:15-17