My Dear Family and Friends,

Outer Banks for family vacation, May 2009

A few minutes ago, I said goodbye to my father beside the taxi at the Houston airport. I am flying home to Wisconsin, he to Oklahoma City for a visit with his sister. We met yesterday with his leukemia doctor at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center here in Houston.

After 13 rounds of an experimental chemotherapy treatment, Dad’s medical situation continues to remain stable. He started round 14 last night (a week of pills, followed by about 3 weeks of rest). This will likely continue as long as it is effective. We will return to Houston in November for our next appointment and a bone marrow biopsy.

Overwhelming gratitude. Almost exactly a year ago, I was told Dad might not live many more days, or even hours. Yet see what God hath wrought!

While my father's life with leukemia is not 100% normal, it is still drenched in goodness. This past weekend, he and I visited with old friends in Ft. Worth (and he preached on Sunday night). Back in Virginia, he recently co-taught a summer class with professor Dan Bagby at the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. He continues to preach occasionally and is working on another book, one intended to be an encouragement for pastors. (So much for resting!)

There is a rich goodness in the simplest moments of life: playing dominoes, eating fajitas, laughing at an "Uncle Bill joke." I am grateful that sometimes these days I notice the beauty of these simple things, and the treasure of our time together.

For all your prayers and your love, I thank you.

My Dear Family and Friends,

What a fine looking young man! (Grandson Nathaniel looks good, too!)

Nine days later, my mother breathed her last breath and took her place in her heavenly home. After so many years of the devastation of Alzheimer’s disease, we saw this as an answered prayer.

If I really tell the truth, I had little faith that Dad would make it the nearly TEN months until Nathaniel would graduate.

Oh ye of little faith! Open your eyes and see what the Lord hath wrought!

Thank you, God!

Ceremonies at the University of Maryland were held last week! I'll post a lot more pics of the robes and tassels and smiles and celebration!

Monday, January 5, 2009

Beloved Friends,

Happy New Year! I pray your holidays have been filled with the peace, hope and love of Jesus. It has been nearly a month since our last update, but four new ones have just been posted.

With love,

Monday, December 29

We just received word that Dad’s bone marrow biopsy brought good news: only 3% blasts…which means the leukemia is still hiding. There is much for which to be grateful! Today I especially pray for those suffering in Gaza and Zimbabwe.

Due to low hemoglobin, Dad's leukemia doc delayed the next round of chemo until his blood levels recover a bit. He received two more units of blood on Tuesday, and we await results of the bone marrow biopsy. Twelve hours in the cancer center is enough to fatigue even non-patients, like myself. However, when we were done, Dad, Doug, Nathaniel and I drove to Doug's parents' home here in Nederland. Here we have celebrated The Birth with candlelight service of carols, games of "Forty-Two," and a table laden with turkey/ham/pork chops, broccoli-cheese casserole, corn bread, and razzle-berry pie, just to get started.

We are sitting here in a hospital waiting area. They just called Dad's name for today's bone marrow biopsy. Around me others--many with scarf-clad heads--read newspapers, watch the chattering television, doze a little. Today is the 55th anniversary of my parents' marriage. Mom celebrates in heaven, we in a waiting room. Well, isn't waiting what Advent is all about?

After church on Sundays, my good friends often ask, "How's your Dad?" I usually reply, "Remarkably well, considering his diagnosis."

Just weeks ago at my home in Wisconsin we shared the joy of another Thanksgiving together. Back in Richmond, Dad preached through Advent. I'm told the sermons were not half bad. But, as Dad reports, "I am high maintenance." Last week he grew well acquainted with the clinic staff: a blood check on Monday, a unit of blood on Tuesday; another unit of blood on Wednesday; a blood check on Thursday; platelets on Friday. In a little while, we will see the leukemia doctor and perhaps begin another round of chemo. If another chemo round occurs, it will run down Dad's counts even further. A medical tightrope. I'll let you know.

With love,

—Eugenia (Genie) Sherman Brown

Sunday, December 7

Beloved Friends!

On Thanksgiving Day, my father, husband, son and I sat around a card table playing a big colorful board game -- laughing, bemoaning, celebrating. And the deep heart of Thanksgiving resonated in my heart as never before. How can I say how grateful I am to God that we were at the table together? My mother was not with us in body....but in our heart's memories.

My father is now on his fifth round of chemo in the experimental trial directed from M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. He is living independently in his apartment in Richmond, helping to pastor Westover Baptist Church, reconnecting at BTSR, and talking about doing some more writing. About once a month, he and I (or he and a friend) return to Houston for appointments, drugs and directions. His energy is not all that he would like, and he remains quite susceptible to infection, but so far, so good....

And to you, our extended family of faith, we are so grateful....my heart overflows! This Christmas, I pray that Jesus is re-born in my heart anew.

With love,

—Eugenia (Genie) Sherman Brown

Thursday, November 13

To my Family, Prayer Groups, Sunday School Classes and Friends who prayed for my health:

I was in Houston, Texas at M. D. Anderson Cancer Clinic from July 28 until October 18. It was a long absence from Richmond, but to my surprise, I was not alone. During that time I received assurances from you that you were with me, that you were praying for me and that you would not forget me.

Through Smyth & Helwys’ website and Genie’s updates, you know that I have responded to the chemo I’ve been given. I’m getting better and have hope of a full remission from acute myeloid leukemia. The healing that has come is unusual in an eighty-year-old and is a pleasant surprise to my doctors. I’ve finished four rounds of chemo; I have four more to take. My blood counts are low; so it is important that I avoid infection. If I can stay clear of infection, I have the prospect of more time.

I am grateful. The list of those who have helped me is long and include my daughter who interrupted a teaching career to care for me. Doug, her husband, has been generous to bless Genie’s time with me. Bill and Ruth (brother and sister) have interrupted busy lives to come to Houston and give Genie breaks to return to her home. M. D. Anderson had options for me that were not available in Richmond; that is the place to be if you have cancer. The icing on the cake was two visits from my grandson; his coming made me smile.

Curing cancer is not just medical science. I am taking a chemo that is helping some people but not everyone who takes it. God decides which of us in the “trial group” are given more time and which ones are not. In the providence of God, it looks like I’ve been given more time to live. Life is God’s gift.

Somewhere in the parts of the equation that allows me to live are the prayers you spoke for me. God is hearing them, and you are a critical part in my being alive. Thank you for your prayers and your care of me. Often attached to your notes was a word about Dot’s dying. Though she was diminished by disease, I miss her presence and grieve her passing. Thank you for noticing her passing. My world is poorer without her.

I confess that I do not know some of you who prayed for me; we’ve never met. But in ways beyond my knowing, we have touched each other. If I have blessed you through writing or speech, you have blessed me with prayer. I wish this letter were a personal touch, a hug or handshake. Please take this impersonal way of communicating with you as heartfelt. Sometimes when I was sick, Genie would read your cards and letters, and they would make me cry. To be loved when you are hurting touches a tender place in the heart. Always I will be thankful to God for the way you came near when I needed help. Please keep me in your prayers, for my fight with this disease continues.

With gratitude,

Monday, October 27

"In life and in death we belong to God." On Monday, October 20th in Richmond after a touching service at River Road Church, we interned my mother's ashes held in a blue and white cloisonne urn — the sun was shining and colored leaves were all around us. On Friday in Asheville amid a mountain rain we sang "It is well with my soul."

I will remember the kindness of the people of River Road Church and First Baptist Asheville. Whether long-time friends or generous souls I'd just met, so many were greeters, reception helpers, detail noticers, and worship leaders. I will remember those who traveled far to stand with us in remembering Momma. I will remember the pastors and eulogizers who touched my heart. And the choir.

As we drove back into Richmond through a drizzling rain with my husband Doug and friend Jim Slatton, my father said, "I prayed that we could accomplish these things (my mother's services)." Our memories will continue, as will grief, but I think my father and I both have a sense of quiet completion. I have my moments when I lose my emotional and spiritual moorings, but most of the time It is well with my soul.

Next week Dad will make a short return trip to Houston with friend Jim Slatton. There he will meet with the leukemia doctor and pick up more chemo pills which he will take back to Richmond as an outpatient. There will be clinic visits to check his blood two or three times per week. He will be careful to avoid exposure to infection. But otherwise, he may lead as normal a life as his strength will allow. One doctor recently emailed me saying, "Please give your dad my best wishes and congratulations for achieving this remission which is very precious as it is so rare in his age bracket." So we thank God. Amen.

— Eugenia Sherman Brown

Saturday, Oct. 18th with Mike Geiger, a member of Westover Baptist in Richmond who accompanied Cecil and Eugenia on the flight home	Sunday morning, Oct. 19th with Justin Joplin, who serves on staff with Cecil at Westover Baptist

Friday, October 17

Our plans remain! My father continues to gain strength and (for a leukemia patient) his blood counts are good. We will say a temporary adieu to Houston tomorrow and proceed with funerals for Momma on Monday, Oct. 20, in Richmond, and Friday, Oct. 24, in Asheville! I did not expect to feel eager to have a funeral, but I do. I want to celebrate my mother's life and worship God in the company of the faithful!

Wednesday, October 8

On Monday, Dad and I had a break in one of the marathon clinic days...from one doctor to one blood draw to another doctor and so on. As we walked through a lobby, Joe Ross (a former parishioner of Dad's from Broadway Baptist Church in Ft. Worth) called Dad's name. Joe is at M.D. Anderson for treatment of his cancer; and they had not crossed paths here before. With deep sadness, Joe quickly related that his wife Sandra, seemingly healthy, had died the day before of a heart attack in the M.D. Anderson cafeteria. Joe and his daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter (Sarah, Pat, and Caroline Fettinger) were just then planning Sandra's funeral for next Monday. They were indeed a loving family in shock.

For about an hour Dad and Joe talked about losing their wives--but in such different ways. Sarah and I (who had just met) talked about care giving and grief. She showed me a beautiful picture of her mother to go with the obituary they were writing. Before we parted, we prayed. Two families, different stories, both with cancer, both with a recent death. God is good. All the time.

As we remain optimistic that Dad will return to Richmond on the 18th, this is a good time to shift mail for him to his home address:

With a grateful heart,

Sunday, October 5

Dear Friends and Family,

Cecil and grandson Nathaniel, Sunday, October 5, 2008

My father continues to make good progress. In the midst of his third round of chemo (pills taken as an outpatient), he continues to gain strength. As we encountered some major health challenges during and after the second round of chemo, we proceed with prayer and hope. Each day we take walks in the Texas sunshine (I’d forgotten how much sunshine Texas delivers!), read get-well cards, and eat! Dad lost quite a lot of weight in the hospital, so I’m trying to fatten him up a bit.

My father and I are eager to celebrate my mother’s life and to lift our hearts in praise to God at a service in her memory. After a run of weeks when the future was so uncertain that we held off on planning anything, we now feel confidence to look ahead. If all goes well, we will fly to Richmond on October 18 and hold a funeral for Mother on Monday, October 20, at 11:00 a.m. at River Road Church, Baptist, 8000 River Road, Richmond, Virginia, 23229, 804-288-1131.

Another funeral will be held on Friday, October 24, at 3:00 p.m. at First Baptist Church Asheville, 5 Oak Street, Asheville, NC, 28801, 828-252-4781.

In both cases a visitation will follow at the church. Due to Dad’s struggle with leukemia, he may not be able to attend the visitation. Fatigue and susceptibility to infection are issues. If he is able, please understand that he must not shake hands or hug or get very close. You are most dear to him, and he hopes you will know this without close physical contact.

If Dad’s health turns sharply south between now and these funeral dates, there is a chance that we may have to cancel either of these services on relatively short notice. We don’t anticipate this, but if it becomes necessary we will post that info on this website pronto.

On Wednesday, October 1, the good students at Baptist Theological Seminary Richmond held a blood drive in Dad’s honor (and managed to get “credit” for him at the M.D. Anderson Blood Bank!). They gathered 24 units of blood! This was a big organizational challenge spearheaded by Lauren Deer, with encouragement from Ka’thy Gore Chappell (my one-time youth pastor! Now at BTSR). While this is a huge tangible gift to my father and others in need of blood, it is also a big hug from the BTSR community to my Dad. Thank you! (If you want to organize a similar blood drive in your community, contact Lauren at <ldeer1@yahoo.com> or 843-271-5701.)

The Westminster-Canterbury Richmond community will also hold a blood drive in Dad’s honor on Wednesday, October 22 (shortly after he returns!). Victoria White is leading this expression of love! For more information on that one, contact Victoria at <victoria_white@wescanric.org>.

With love to you all/you guys from sunny Houston,

Tuesday, September 30

Dear Faithful Praying Friends,

How do I say "thank you" to God...when the prayers of a great cloud of witnesses (you!) are answered beyond what I believed possible? And how does one say "thank you"...to each of you for joining in a chorus of prayer on my father's behalf? Perhaps these electronic words will reveal to you my heart of gratitude. I stand with Job and place my hand over my mouth. All that I have to report is good news!

While I was at home in Wisconsin, Dad was discharged from the hospital and re-settled into the nearby apartment. He found a post-Ike Houston with considerably fewer trees and with traffic lights in various states of functionality! Good friends from Asheville cared for him beautifully through that transition. I returned last Thursday evening (Sept 25) to find him eager to go to Pappacito's for Mexican food! Dad is not at full strength. He is frail, but he is SO much better than a few weeks ago when he was gravely ill.

At a clinic appointment on Monday (Sept. 29), the head leukemia doctor noted that Dad's blood counts are recovering well enough for another round of chemo, which will start this Thursday (Oct. 2). As those who have done chemo understand so well, as soon as you get better from one round, you must face another. He will take the chemo for one week (on an out-patient basis) and stay in Houston at least another week beyond that. If all goes well, we will make the big jump back to Richmond shortly thereafter. As soon as we set dates for Momma's funerals (in Richmond and Asheville) we will put them on this website. We'd like to set those dates now, but leukemia is so volatile that we think it best to wait a little longer.

These days with Dad in the apartment are the easiest that I have had in Houston. No doctor parade, no never-ending interruptions in the hospital room, no wrestling with the parking garage at the hospital! Dad and I and take slow walks in the apartment parking lot, as he is gradually building his strength. We tend to insurance matters, manage a myriad of prescriptions, and talk politics (as if we knew something! I think the bailout quandary has us stumped!). Each day we read cards from many of you...which are so encouraging.

Major medical (whether one's own or that of one close to you) has a way of focusing the heart and mind on what matters most. The important things grow a little clearer. I continue to pray that I will be open to all God wants to do inside of me through this experience. In Jesus' Name. Amen.

Wednesday, September 24

Oh my goodness!! Remember those "blasts" in the bone marrow that indicate leukemia? At first they were 77%, then 76%. As I reported last week, they were down to 10%! Now they are all the way down to 3%!!! How do we thank God for such a gift? Yesterday's bone marrow biopsy confirmed that Dad is responding well (very well!) to this experimental treatment. The leukemia is still there, but it is now less aggressive. His white count is also recovering, so he is better able to withstand infection. The doctors estimate that they will start another round of chemo when he is stronger, perhaps in about two weeks. We are beginning tentative conversations about his return to Richmond, perhaps in a month or so, followed soon after by funerals for Mom. We want to honor and celebrate her life.

We are truly on our knees with thanksgiving and wonder! We thank you for your prayers! Blessings!

On Saturday, I left Dad in the care of close Asheville friends Bud and Grace Brazil, so that I could tend to life in Wisconsin. I am returning to Houston on Thursday.

Oh, by the way, if you enjoyed reading my dad’s book, By My Own Reckoning, how about going to the websites for Smyth & Helwys and Amazon.com to write a customer review? (For all you Facebookers out there, you can also add your review to ones others have offered.) If you did not enjoy the book….well….maybe just surf the web for something you like better!

Joyfully and gratefully,

Wednesday, September 17

Since childhood I have watched (and joined in) the prayers of multitudes, often around the sickness of a dear Christian friend. Some of those much-prayed-for ones made miraculous recoveries, others slow and tedious ones, others went home to heaven. I wonder about prayer and sickness. Might all of those prayers have been answered in the larger affirmative, even when it did not seem like it? I don't know; I have not walked every road of grief. We are surely called to prayer. But I don't understand these journeys of petitionary prayer over an ailing loved one. Yet it seems that they have the potential to deepen my faith, teach me more of trust, and offer me another opportunity to "let go" of what I want in favor of God's will.

A couple of days ago Dad said, "[The Apostle] Paul was not afraid to die. And I am much less afraid of dying than I used to be." In life and in death we belong to God.

Yesterday the doctor told me that Dad has overcome bronchial pneumonia!! This is most unusual for a leukemia patient, as is the dramatic reduction in the percentage of "blasts" in the bone marrow. I stand amazed before the mercies of God! I place my hand over my mouth.

Each day, Dad gets stronger. While just over a week ago, he could hardly take a few baby steps, now—with a walker—he takes laps around the nurses' station. Yesterday he clocked fourteen in three outings! He asks me to read your cards and letters to him until my voice runs out! He says, "they encourage me." The docs talk of a possible discharge next week, but then they remind us (as does our friend Kathryn Norman), "one day at a time."

I am living and learning about life in a hurricane-stricken community. My inconveniences are small beside the sufferings of others. At the apartment, there are no lights, no fridge, no microwave, no CNN, no Google, no hot water for a shower! I was reminded that most all of humanity lived (or does live) like this. Monday evening as the sun set, the little apartment darkened gently. I spent more time in prayer and devotional reading than I would have in an electrical world. It puts one to thinking.

Blessings to you from the land where half the street lights hang loose and dark above the littered streets!!

Saturday, September 13

Saturday Morning in Houston. Outlasting Ike.

This morning a nurse and I helped Dad into a wheelchair and he and I headed out to explore what Hurricane Ike hath wrought! While we slept plausibly well (and quite safely) in this tiny hospital room, the city took a beating. From the 11th floor we surveyed the overflowed bayou about two blocks away. From the 3rd floor we checked out the flooding on big Holcombe Avenue and trees down just beside the hospital. Numerous parts of this building have taken on some serious water. But we are safe and dry. We have electricity, A/C, and truly all we really need. My uncle is safe (though without power) with friends in West Houston. I've not a clue about the apartment where I'm usually staying....that can wait. Locked-in nurses scurry to care for us while trying to check on their loved ones all over the region.

Flooded Bayou in Downtown Houston

We made it through Ike

Dad continues to do well. He is eating well and gaining a bit of strength. We've a long road ahead, but yesterday and today (so far) are good days! Noting a series of big, hard events in our lives of late….with a then impending hurricane....I turned to our son Nathaniel and asked, "What next?" He replied wryly, "perhaps a swarm of locusts!" But God is good…..all the time!

Thursday, September 11

Oh my friends! We have news!

Here's what an historian (me) has learned about leukemia. The benchmark of leukemia is the percentage of "blasts" (leukemia cells) in the bone marrow. In three bone marrow biopsies since late July, Dad's blast percentage was 77%, 77%, and 76%. That's bad. Really bad. Since then, he's had two rounds of chemo along with a few big ups and downs.

Here's the news.... Yesterday, Dad had a bone marrow biopsy and the preliminary report is that his blasts are now 10%!!! That's an amazing drop! Wonder who's praying!?!?!

So we are dancing in the hospital halls and falling to our knees in gratitude! Naturally, the doctors caution us.....this is a volatile disease and his blood counts remain through the floor. He is susceptible to infection and bleeding. Strength is a problem and there are some concerns about his heart. Still, we (and you!) prayed that the chemo would do its good work, and it seems that it is doing so. Now the doctors want to get him strong enough to take another round. And by the way, this evening he was well enough to play (and win!) a domino game with his brother Bill and me.

On Wednesday, Marv Knox, representing Associated Baptist Press, arrived to present Dad with their Religious Freedom award. With poise and solemnity, Marv gave Dad a plaque and a booklet filled with tributes. Despite a morning of medical events, it turned out to be a moment that came together just right. As Marv said, it was a holy time. Babs Baugh came, too, and she and Dad reminisced about their days together on the first CBF Coordinating Council. Clearly, the presentation touched Dad's heart....and mine. Thank you, Marv and ABP!

Then, of course, there is Hurricane Ike. (Should I make some quip about storming the beaches?! Perhaps not....) The hospital will allow one family member to stay "on the inside" with a patient. That will be me. (Dad's room is about the size of a teacup.) I have to bring in my own food. My Uncle Bill will stay with close friends nearby.

We are so grateful!!! The prayers of a cloud of witnesses!

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Tuesday, September 9

Yesterday a good friend, Celeste Rast, emailed me about the sermon preached by Dr. Guy Sayles at First Baptist Asheville this past Sunday (Sept. 7). She noted that the Asheville church posts recent sermons on-line. So I followed the link and listened to it as a portion of my morning devotions and prayers. First, I would commend the sermon to you for its message about being sold-out to Christ, and about spiritually "living" and "dying." It nudged me onward in my own journey toward Jesus. Secondly, toward the end, Guy offers a generous tribute to my father.

While Dad ate his hospital-tray-lunch of soft tacos and a fruit cup I set up my laptop so he could hear the sermon, too. My speakers aren't very strong and Dad's hearing is not as it once was, so he continued to lean toward the laptop, soon at a near 45 degree angle. I picked up the laptop about a third of the way through and held it sideways to his ear — almost touching it, for he was indeed savoring each word. When Guy's sermon was done Dad said, "That was generous and humbling. I am grateful for his tribute. And I am grateful that FBC Asheville is in his care."

If you'd like to hear Guy's sermon, visit the church's webpage (http://fbca.net/sermons.asp). The sermon is titled, "Living in Christ." (Thanks, Guy!)

After a weekend filled with breathing troubles, at times severe, Dad has been blessed with some easier days. I suspect that you the readers of these postings heard my request for prayers about this and brought these petitions to our Loving God. Leukemia is still tough, but Monday and today have been so much easier. Right now, he is napping in the bed beside where I sit — and I cannot hear him breathing! This is a huge improvement! I thank you. And above all, I thank God.

My father's brother, Bill, is with us here in Houston. He and I take turns sitting with Dad and talking to the parade of doctors. Last night the three of us watched the Packers win at Lambeau Field. (I was a bit more "into" it than they were!) I am grateful for my uncle's presence.

With a heart of gratitude,

Friday, September 5

It is Friday late morning in Houston. I'm sitting beside my Dad's hospital bed while he sleeps. These moments are a welcome break in the morning parade of doctors...infectious disease, leukemia, renal, cardio, pulmonary, endocrinology. Each physician travels with their entourage of students and observers...I call them the "comet's tail." This morning each has shown both their expertise and care.

Since leaving the ICU six days ago, Dad has made considerable progress in overall strength, but he also faces some serious challenges. Breathing is a major concern, as well as edema. I ask your particular prayers that the myriad of doctors can adjust his meds and treatments so that he can breathe with greater ease. I don't really know what it feels like not to be able to get my breath, some of you do. But when it comes upon Dad, I see distress in his eyes. Please pray.

When the parade subsides, Dad asks that I read him the cards and letters that so many of you have sent. Often I complete a card and he says, "they sure are fine folks," or "they sure do mean a lot to me." Letters with memories of Mom cause both of us to reach for Kleenex. Many of you assure him of your prayers. The other day, he said, "I don't really know how prayer works. But I know that it does." Honest as the day is long.

Some of you face your own health issues that Dad and I know about and are praying for specifically. I also lift up general prayers for those sufferings that I don't know about. Living in a hospital is a good way to be reminded that we are not the only one's with struggles. And God's love covering each family here.....well, it brings me to awe and worship.

Saturday, August 30

Dear Precious Friends and Family,

Perhaps in hard times I learn in deeper ways about what is truly important. God's love and the love of friends and family in a landslide! God IS love.

On Wednesday night (while I was in Madison and about an hour after our friend Mike Geiger had left Dad's hospital room), Dad suddenly could not breathe. This landed him in the ICU sedated and with a breathing tube. This concerned me enough to decide to return to Houston sooner than planned. I arrived quite early on Friday and my husband Doug soon after. Later that day, they allowed Dad to wake up and removed the breathing tube — successfully! Doug spent the night with him in the ICU so that I could sleep a little more — I'm grateful. While groggy yesterday, today (Saturday morning) Dad is much more like himself — asking for several things: real food (they only allowed oatmeal), Scripture reading (he chose Psalms 139 and 40), a summary of Obama's speech (which he'd wanted to watch), and the results of the Baylor-Wake Forest football game (would you be surprised if I told you he was pulling for the Baylor Bears?! They tanked). Soon the doctors plan to move Dad to a regular hospital room.

We are so relieved! Leukemia is still terribly serious, but it looks like — by God's grace — we've navigated one big bump in the road. We hope that as Dad regains strength that he will be able to return to the chemo protocol. And we pray for a remission.

As you ford the bumps in your own roads, whatever they may be, remember that so many love you, and Jesus loves you most of all!

Thursday, August 28

Dear Friends,

I had traveled back home to Wisconsin on Tuesday, leaving Dad in the capable hands of his good friend Mike Geiger from Westover Baptist Church in Richmond. (Thank you, Mike!) I am now preparing to return to Houston this evening, earlier than planned. Dad was taken to ICU during the night. The doctors think that much of what is occurring is the result of complications from some new medicines. I've learned that predicting this disease is a fool's past time.

I know I only recently sent news yesterday, but with the events that took place in the night I thought I would send another update. This is not a call for alarm. On the contrary, it is a call for prayer. As I wrote last week, we are all in God's hands, and we do not know the future. And who among us can add a day to our lives (or our loved one's lives) by worrying? So, let us not worry, but let us pray, holding onto each other and to the God who holds each of us in his hands.

Wednesday, August 27

Today, I would like to ask for your prayers for a few specific concerns surrounding Dad:

Last week, I stood in line at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center post office (the place is so massive they have a virtual city inside — even a Smoothie King, and of course, a couple of Starbucks). When my turn arrived, I asked for the mail for Cecil Sherman. The friendly postman (whom I later learned was Carlton Jordan) said, "Oh, are you his daughter?" I replied in the affirmative, but wondered how this man knew my relationship to the patient. Then he said, "I'm sorry about your mom." That's when my chin bumped my collarbone. Seeing my dumbfounded look, he said, "Your father got so much mail that I went online and found the web site. I know your whole story." It was a joyful, gentle encounter. And it was a tribute to so many of you who have written to Dad or to me with messages of your love, care, and prayers. We are surrounded by the family of faith. We are the hands and feet of Christ.

And Carlton Jordan, if you are still reading, thanks!

Sunday, August 24

"Life comes at you fast." Some television voice lodged that line in my head. It has seldom been more apropos. My father and I spent three good days at the Houston apartment where we opened cards and letters from many of you, played a little Dominos, talked about Momma, and learned to adjust to the super-clean living arrangements needed by a leukemia patient.

On Saturday, Dad received a blood transfusion at the hospital as we looked forward to the arrival of Nathaniel (only grandson) for a weekend visit. Afterward, Dad began to feel bad. Late that night his fever jumped up. Nathaniel and I took him to the ER. They admitted him, saying that one should never mess around with a fever in a leukemia patient. Today (Sunday 8/24), the doctor said he expected this to be resolved in a couple of days. Happily tonight, Dad felt well enough to play a rousing board game with Nathaniel and me—that's a good sign!

On Tuesday, I return home for a few days. Dad will be well looked after first by Mike Geiger, good friend from Westover Baptist Church in Richmond, and then by my husband Doug.

In my prayers this afternoon, I especially asked for "God-sightings" — those little moments of "coincidence" when one just knows that it is God. I do not doubt God's presence in this with us, but sometimes in my busyness and my new concerns with white counts and germs and fevers, I fail to "taste and see how sweet the Lord is."

Tuesday, August 19

Dear Family of Faith,

How you have surrounded us in these challenging days. How you have reached across the miles with cards, calls, photos, e-mail, e-messages, and a huge banner with the pictures of precious children from Westminster Canterbury! Dad carefully read the names of every good soul who e-signed the CBF letter of support and prayer. Many he would read aloud to me with a tone of wonder in his voice. This moved him deeply. How do we say thank you?

Yesterday Dad had another bone marrow biopsy — the real measure of the severity of the leukemia. His results were about the same as they were three weeks ago when his treatment began. Since this is an aggressive disease, we've decided that staying put is a good sign. It sure beats getting worse. His second round of chemo began this evening. The doctors tell us (repeatedly) that we will not really know if the treatment is "working" for quite some time. Also, they decided to discharge Dad from the hospital (even though his blood levels aren't good). On Wednesday I will bring him to the apartment that we rent through a ministry to cancer families of Houston's South Main Baptist Church. I've used a lot of Clorox wipes this evening in preparation for his arrival! Issues of this disease include fatigue, susceptibility to infection, and poor blood-clotting, so we have to be pretty careful. When he isn't feeling super-tired, Dad's spirits remain upbeat and hopeful. He is especially looking forward to "getting to eat with people" again — breaking bread in community. There is a holiness there.

Houston may be temporary "home" for a good while as frequent trips to the clinics and labs at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center will be required. We hope to learn a little bit more of what to expect long-term during a clinic appointment on Thursday. But as my cousin reminded me on the phone this evening. We are *all* in God's hands, and we do not know the future. And who among us can add a day to our lives (or our loved one's lives) by worrying? One hard part, especially for Dad, is that we've not yet had a funeral for Momma. As he said so well this evening, it is right and good to celebrate her life. Pray that we will know the right time to move on that.

Some of you who read this also have hard things unfolding in your lives, some things we know about, some things we do not. Know of the prayers and love of others — especially Jesus. As many of you know, major medical is a fine time to learn some things about one's self, and one's understanding of God. I ask your prayers for growing deeper in faith through this and all things.

Mercy drops round us are falling, but for the showers we plead,

Thursday, August 14

So many of you have asked us, "What can we do to help?" Above all, our response is pray. After that, we love your cards and calls. Recently, we've learned of something else that our friends can do.

As my father is in need of many blood transfusions, and blood supplies are frequently low, you can give blood (any blood type) and he will receive "credit." If you are willing to give platelets (takes a little longer, about 2 hours), that would be especially appreciated. Here's how....

Go to a hospital-based blood bank (not the Red Cross) in your area that is a member of the American Association of Blood Banks (AABB). Tell them you want to donate blood (or platelets) to the account of "Cecil Sherman, at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center, in Houston, Texas, medical record #735547." While Dad will not get your blood, he will get "credit," which helps his standing on the blood/platelet distribution list.

This is no small favor, so only do so if you feel God's nudge.

With deep appreciation,

Tuesday, August 12

Dear Friends and Family,

Tired, but encouraged by your support.

This past weekend, Dad was cheered by a visit from grandson Nathaniel who flew in from Seattle to visit and play board games. On Sunday morning our worship included TV preachers, conversations about the original sin/original blessing, and singing with the TV choir, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus. Nathaniel departed on Sunday evening. And on Monday, Dad's brother Bill and his wife Veta arrived from Nashville, Tennessee, loaded with tomatoes and peaches from their backyard bumper crop.

Cecil with brother Bill Sherman (right) and sister-in-law Veta Sherman (left) on Monday, August 11, 2008.

Medically, we are in a wait-and-see time. We wonder, is the leukemia advancing? Is the treatment working? But sometimes we reach most deeply toward God in those seasons of waiting. Pray for good results….and please pray also for our waiting.

Saturday, August 9

My Dear Family and Friends,

Since my mother's death, so many of you have reached out to Dad and me—all the way to Houston. Cards continue to touch Dad's heart as he reads each one and is reminded of you who love him and pray for him. The pictures you send grace the hospital room walls—lots of you are smiling at him (keep those pictures coming!). Sometimes it seems that Christ holds us, in part, through the love of friends. Sometimes we cry a little; sometimes tell stories about Momma; sometimes we just smile a little. We are sad to delay a memorial service for her, but we trust in a day when Dad will be well enough to participate in that service of worship of our Lord and celebration of one of His beautiful children.

Dad continues in his clinical trial treatment program for this leukemia. He has very few side effects and considerable quality of life (though he would rather not be sequestered in this hospital room!). We are in a waiting time, not yet knowing if he is responding to the treatment program. We may get some indications late this month. We wait. We pray. We grow in faith.

A bright spot—Nathaniel (son of Doug and me) and dad's grandson is here in Houston for the weekend. He takes a break from his internship in Seattle to play dominoes and games in the hospital room with a mask, gloves, a smock,
and booties (the required garb for visitors to Dad!).

Besides dad's address at the hospital, you may also contact us at the apartment we have rented here in Houston. We found it through a group of neighboring churches who minister to families of cancer patients. When dad is discharged (hopefully in late August), we will stay in the apartment until the doctors release him to return to Richmond:

The good people at Smyth & Helwys Publishing (especially Lex Horton) have set up a website devoted to support for dad in this season of illness. You may visit the website at http://www.cecilsherman.com/news.html. Because I do not want to intrude into your email in-boxes quite so often, from now on I will just send updates and some pictures to the website a couple of times a week. I will no longer send out these emails to you my dear list. If you want to be notified when updates are posted on the website, you can sign up for an email alert to be sent to you.

Lex also set up a group on Facebook called "Support Cecil Sherman." So if you are in a Colbert-target audience age group, visit and tell your friends.

You, our spiritual family, we so deeply love,

Thursday, August 7

Dear Family and Friends,

I just moved into one of the "church apartments" subsidized by the good people at South Main Baptist Church. I will stay there (save for a couple of brief intervals when I am away from Houston). Dad will join me there when he is released from the hospital. We anticipate that we may be required to remain in Houston for about a month post-hospital discharge. The address there is:

With much love and deep appreciation,

Monday, August 4

Greetings dear Friends and Family,

Cecil in good spirits, enjoying the hospital's morning fare!

My father loves visitors, but due to his treatment and the advice of doctors, his white blood cell count has dropped to such a level that we must limit his visitors significantly.

Cecil enjoys a visit on July 28 with his daughter Genie (left) and niece Dr. Deborah Sherman (right) who joined the family for the critical appointments

We so appreciate your prayers in this time of grieving Momma and in this season of my father's health challenges.

Sunday, August 3

Dear Family and Friends,

Shortly after dad and I received the phone call this past Thursday morning that mom was declining fast, I called my father's sister, Ruth Hamm and her husband Roger. They agreed to drive from Oklahoma City to Houston a day earlier than planned—and on the spur of the moment! They remain in Houston as dad's "point persons" until I can return.

Martus and Jeanie Miley of River Oaks Baptist Church in Houston got in touch with both dad and me with words of encouragement and care. Very soon I will share a meal with them.

Unfortunately, with his lowered immunity, the doctors have told us we must continue to limit visits to his room.

We are so thankful for the kindness and the caring thoughts. Dad is looking forward to the time when he can see your wonderful faces.

With much love and deep appreciation,

My Dear Family and Friends,

Not long ago, when my father began to realize that his illness was severe he said to me, "I pray I see your mother home." And I prayed that I could be by her side when she made that holy passage. As you already know, both of our prayers are answered. My dear Momma, Dorothy Eugenia Hair Sherman, went home on Friday morning, August 1st, peacefully in her bed at Westminster Canterbury, Richmond, Virginia.

Since my father entered a leukemia treatment program on Monday that confines him to his Houston hospital room, he could not rush to Momma's Richmond bedside on Thursday when we got the call that the pace of her decline had accelerated. This was hard for Dad. He had to stay put while I witnessed Houston traffic parting like the Red Sea to speed my way to the airport. I arrived at her side about 5:00 pm on Thursday, and stayed there. She went to Jesus' arms at 8:38 on Friday morning. And like Momma, it was gentle.

Because of my father's health we are going to delay a memorial service until he is able to attend. I remain in Richmond with my cousin Harriett (Mom's sister Helen's daughter). Precious Richmond friends are guiding me through the tasks at hand. Dad's sister and her husband are with Dad in Houston. I will see him again on Wednesday evening.

Dad cannot receive flowers or food in his "protected environment" at the hospital. But if you wish to remember my mother in a tangible way, Dad suggests donations toward the completion of the Cecil and Dorothy Sherman Lecture Hall at Baptist Theological Seminary Richmond.  The address is:

I need to thank so many of you….for cards, phone calls, email encouragement, for rides to and from airports, for holding our hands, for visits, for comforting words, for being generous with your time, for staying close in hard times, and w-a-y above all, for prayers.

Christ's love to you all,

Wednesday, July 30

My father will be confined to one hospital room for about 30 days. I would love to cover his walls with pictures of his family and friends. If you would be willing, please send him a picture of yourself (labeled on the back) and I will scotch tape them up. While in "isolation," I would like his eyes to rest on pictures of those who genuinely care about him. A reminder that we are never alone — Christ is always with us, and our loved ones are with us in spirit!

Tuesday, July 29

Dear Family and Friends,

So many of you have inquired about my father since my his diagnosis with acute myeloid leukemia. We appreciate your care so much. I am creating an email list, and I hope to send out an update once or twice a week, or whenever there are any notable changes. Some of you I have never met, yet I know that you are dear to my parents and care about them. Others of you, have never met my parents, but are friends of mine. For all of you, this family of faith during a tough journey, I am grateful.

To bring all up to speed…..since my father's diagnosis, he explored the treatment options in Richmond, Virginia, and decided to see if anything more promising was offered at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas. With amazing (read: divine) speed, we saw physicians in Houston and learned of a clinical trial specifically tailored for older adults with his diagnosis. It is a mild chemotherapy, with few side effects. This seemed to offer us some hope of greater longevity without great sickness induced by treatment. Dad was admitted as an in-patient (yesterday) and treatment began this evening. He will be in the hospital (in a "protected environment") for 21-30 days. We may not know for some time whether or not he is responding to the treatment. He is in good spirits...until we talk about my mother.

Mom's situation is far less dramatic, but serious and painful for us all. For over five years she has lived in the Alzheimer's care unit of a nursing home in Richmond (Dad lives in an apartment about a three-minute walk away). About two weeks ago, Mother began to decline: mild fever (no infection that can be discovered), less ability to swallow, sleeping almost all the time, and almost unresponsive. The nurses suggest that she may not live much longer.

I am in Houston with Dad, and will fly to Richmond on Saturday to be with Mom (other relatives are coming to keep Dad company). Some precious friends in Richmond are visiting with Mom while I am away.

Some of you asked for a mailing address to send a card to Dad. It is:

I have felt so surrounded by your prayers, your care, your concern. How can I thank you, my extended family of faith, for all this? Perhaps only in our shared love of Christ Jesus. Words fail me completely...my heart overflows with gratitude.

Blessings to each of you...and in whatever parts of the journey you walk in this season know that I/we care about you too...your struggles and joys...and remember how much God loves you.