It’s been ten years since I jumped out of an airplane, but I’ll never forget it. The first two weeks of training at the US Army Airborne School are spent on the ground and in towers. Soldiers jump from four-foot high platforms into sawdust to learn how to land, hang from cables that teach them how to guide the parachute, and jump from mock aircraft to make sure they clear the door.
Jump week finally comes. The preparation is complete and all that’s left is to don the parachute, get on the plane, and follow the instructions of the Jump Master. “Stand Up…Hook Up…Sound Off for Equipment Check…Stand By…Go!” With my stomach in my throat and my heart pounding, I jumped. And hoped that my parachute would open.
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Photo by Spc. Steven Young
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So here we are and it’s time to jump again. It’s almost Labor Day. This is the last weekend, the last respite, before I enter the hospital next week and begin the stem cell transplant that will hopefully provide a cure from this scourge called leukemia. The preparation is complete. No nurse visits this weekend. No calls from the doctor’s office. No results yet from the bone marrow biopsy, either, but we’re trusting God that the cancer is still in remission. We’ll try to fit six weeks of the good life into three days. Christi and I went on a “date” yesterday to the Indian restaurant. We bought a good bottle of wine. Emmy and I played a little this morning. We’ll see our family this weekend and I’ll spend as much time with my girls as they’ll let me.
Labor Day marks the end of summer. This year it marks the end of the old life that we’ve known up to now. When I come out of the hospital, I’ll have a new immune system, new blood, and, for a while, a new lifestyle that will focus on avoiding infection and managing the effects of the transplant. It will mark the beginning of living the rest of my life cancer-free, Lord willing, but also always knowing that each day could be the last day before the cancer returns.
These past two months have been relatively relaxed, like the proverbial calm before the storm. We know the transplant will be very challenging physically and emotionally. We’ll need lots of prayer and support from those who love us. It will certainly be a test of our faith and resolve. Fortunately, we have a Savior who calms storms, walks on water, and ultimately, holds all things together (Colossians 1).
In the scriptures, when the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water they were afraid, but then Peter yelled, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you on the water.” Jesus called for him, and Peter got out of the boat. He jumped into the unknown and trusted Jesus (Matt 14:22-33; NIV). Like Peter, my faith may waiver in the coming months and I may feel like I’m starting to sink. I will yell, “Jesus, save me!” And He will. He already has.
In the scriptures, when the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water they were afraid, but then Peter yelled, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you on the water.” Jesus called for him, and Peter got out of the boat. He jumped into the unknown and trusted Jesus (Matt 14:22-33; NIV). Like Peter, my faith may waiver in the coming months and I may feel like I’m starting to sink. I will yell, “Jesus, save me!” And He will. He already has.
I’m excited to get the transplant started, but I dread it just as much. Until Wednesday, I’ll continue to bask in this tranquility and love on my family. The preparation is complete. It’s time. All that’s left is to jump and hope that my parachute opens.
So enjoy your post! Bless you and your family.
Thank you. We are very blessed.