King of My Heart
Written: John Mark McMillan and Sarah McMillan
You are good, good, Oh
You are good, good, Oh
Let the King of my heart be
The wind inside my sails
The anchor in the waves; Oh
He is my song
Let the King of my heart be
The fire inside my veins
And the echo of my; Oh
He is my song.
Last night, for the first and likely last time in her life, my
beautiful wife Elizabeth became a Prom Queen. The BrAva MomProm is a
ladies-only event the proceeds of which are used to help raise awareness and
provide research funding for pediatric cancer, specifically in the Mid-Ohio
Valley. Hundreds of women buy tickets months in advance, sell raffle tickets, develop
sponsorships, decorate the venue, and buy luminaries with the mission of saving
just one more child or preventing one more diagnosis.
Many of the women in attendance are “Cancer Moms” having walked the
bleak path of mothering a child with pediatric cancer. Some of those children
have triumphed and are thriving, some are still in the midst of their battle,
and some now smile down on their mothers from the lap of God. Last year,
Elizabeth joined this elite group of warriors against her will, becoming a
statistic to some, an inspiration to others, and leader to many. Over the past
12 months I have watched Elizabeth break apart, crushed under the weight of our
situation, only to dry her tears, rise from her knees, and keep fighting. Her
journey, just as many others, has shaped the reality of our today with a
ferocious intensity that nearly destroyed our family. But it didn’t.
Elizabeth and Hazel are the pillars of strength that sustain our
family. Last night, hundreds of other women proved to Elizabeth what we have
always known, that she is a warrior queen that leads our family with love,
compassion, and faith.
Part of the presentation ceremony last night included a dedication to
Hazel, which Elizabeth and I wrote. For those who could not attend, I have
included it below. Today, and in all our days, we continue to praise God for his
goodness to us.
Hazel’s Dedication:
Hazel Miller is three years old, loves the color yellow, and
enjoys spending time with her family. Her favorite food is macaroni and cheese,
she is best friends with her dog named Serenity, and her favorite place on
earth is on a beach with sand between her toes and the salty wind in her hair.
Hazel is rambunctious, rowdy, and inquisitive, with a tender love of life that
stems from pure imagination and an untainted wonder for the world around her.
Hazel is just like any other three-year old, save for one
thing: she has spent the past year battling Pre-B Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.
On Easter weekend of 2017, Hazel’s world changed forever as she was diagnosed
with cancer. Hazel has spent the past 12 months in and out of the hospital,
withstanding round after round of chemotherapy, countless operations, and
constant poking, prodding, and testing. Hazel’s cancer journey has been more
positive than some, but by no means easy. She has lost the beautiful locks of
bright, cherry red hair that she had since she was born. Side effects of
chemotherapy have left her weak and off-balance, unable to play with her
siblings or even walk at times. Her immune system has been compromised to the
point of near decimation, leaving her constantly vulnerable to even the most
benign germs and bacteria. Hazel has spent a year in near isolation, missing
birthday parties, family get togethers, trips, and holiday celebrations. And
yet, Hazel remains unstoppable. The spark in her eyes has never faded and the
vibrancy of her life never waned as she has trod this difficult path laid
before her.
Cancer is awful. Cancer is hateful. It doesn’t care how much
of life you have lived, you can be 83 years old or 3 years old and it will
still rob you of time, of happiness, and of security. Never again will Hazel’s
family rest easy. Never again will a fever just be “a fever”, a rite of passage
of being a normal kid. Hazel’s parents will spend the rest of their days lying
awake at night worrying, praying, hoping that their little girl will have the
chance to grow up to become the amazing force they know her to be.
Hazel Miller is a warrior, and like so many other little
warriors around the world, she has toed the line with a hideous disease and
gone blow for blow against a killer. Some battles have been won and some
battles lost, but every day Hazel has had the courage to stand up and fight.
The impact of Hazel’s fight has touched many; inspiring incredible acts of
benevolence by organizations, groups, and individuals that far overshadow the
ugliness of the disease with which she fights.
Hazel’s journey with cancer is not yet over, but today the
tide remains turned in her favor. Trips to the hospital are fewer and farther
between, side effects are less drastic, and her life resembles what can be
termed as “normal”. Her hair is returning and maintains the deep auburn hew
that was a characteristic of her appearance prior to cancer. She has faint
freckles that seem to drip from her ocean-blue eyes, pointing to the dimples
that pockmark her cheeks each time she grins or laughs. Hazel’s home echoes
with her giggles as she once again gallops through each room with siblings and
cousins at her heels, each hoping to catch her and steal hugs before she gets
away.
Hazel is fiercely and recklessly loved by so many. Her life
is good, her life is meaningful, and no disease – no matter how terrible – can
rob her of that.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the
greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13
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