20 November 2008
Houston, Texas

“...for they shall be comforted.”
 
Dear Brothers and Sisters,

After eleven months of chemotherapy at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, follow-up scans in August revealed spread of our son Everett’s bone cancer from his left pelvis, where it had started, to areas in his right pelvis. This meant that surgical removal of his tumor, the only chance for cure, was no longer an option.

Last month the cancer began to spread more rapidly to other parts of his body. He lost ten pounds, he had trouble climbing stairs, and he was unable to get comfortable day or night because of deep aching pain in his back and legs. He started radiation treatments to shrink the painful metastases in his spine and right knee, and last week he asked for another round of toxic chemotherapy in hopes of slowing the progression of his incurable disease.

In the course of caring for a loved one who is terminally ill, a transformation occurs in your perception of the disease. You shift from understanding it theoretically through the digital images of MRIs and PET scans, to knowing its physical reality, the illness in the flesh. You comprehend it no longer with your mind but with your heart, and your emotional reaction evolves from sadness into grief. Such is the transformation Cindy and I have gone through with Everett during the past month.

Seeing the devastating physical effects of cancer in your own son and feeling his pain in your own heart is, I believe, the kind of suffering Jesus was referring to when he said, “Blessed are those who mourn....” God has given me a glimpse of that blessing as I help Everett through his overwhelming illness; for the pain I feel in my heart has set in bold relief the love that dwells therein, and now, more clearly than ever, I can see the eternal bond of love I share with my son.

After learning at the hospital that the cancer had spread, Everett and I came home and sat together quietly in his room. We did not discuss the details of the medical reports or their implications. Rather, we remained silent, in the unspoken communication of a father and son. Finally I buried my head in his shoulder and wept and wept. It was he, the suffering one, who comforted me, by gently rubbing my back and holding me close. The son for whom I mourn has become the blessing that will carry me through his illness. And I know in my heart the bond of love we share will last forever.

Yours,

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

Editor's note: While the Morgans are on leave of absence, their newsletters will continue to be posted on the Mission Connections Web site.