Booya

Take that. We have arrived at the end of another year, successfully having dodged any cancer-related medical issues / updates / appointments / etc. In about a week and a half, we will make our annual Spring Break trek across I-40, over the mountains, through the woods, and all the way to the mighty Mississippi. This will be the last, God-willing, Spring Break that we will spend as a family in Memphis, the city that has come to hold such a special place in our hearts. Jennings will visit with his Bone Marrow Transplant team for the final time, and they will officially hand him off to the After Completion of Therapy (ACT) Clinic. That is the clinic that every patient and family that walks through the St. Jude doors for the first time longs to visit. Hard to believe we’re here!

Leading up to this post, over the last month, Jennings officially reached his 5-year anniversary of his second bone marrow transplant. That was March 11, 2026. It was a special day, to say the least, for Lauren and me. I took the day off and even went so far as to take the Outlook app off my phone, so I wouldn’t get email or calendar notifications throughout the day. I’m so glad I did that and was able to be fully present - after all, the hope is that we only get one of these days!

Lauren and I spent the entire day together while the kids were in school. It was her idea to take small gifts of flowers around to some of the people who showed up for us in incredible ways during that season. It felt very old school to show up at about four people’s homes, uninvited, with no text or call ahead, and knock on the door. And it turned out that they were all home! That was just one of God’s blessings on the day. It was so sweet to connect with people, many of whom we don’t see on a regular basis anymore, and just acknowledge their service to our family and mark the day.

We also sent flowers to his two primary doctors during his treatment journey, Dr. Bolen here in Charlotte and Dr. Talleur in Memphis. Both of those women walked with us with such compassion, advising us, counseling us, literally fighting for Jennings at points. They both made us feel, even on the bad days, like we were right where we were supposed to be. All of the people that dedicate their lives to working in this field to fight against pediatric cancer, to care for kids facing actual nightmares, to show up every day in places where they see the lowest of lows while hoping and working for the highest of highs for those they serve –- they are our heroes.

Speaking of heroes, we delivered a catered lunch as a small token of our appreciation to those that work on the floor of Hemby Children’s Hospital. In total, over his two fights against AML, prior to heading west to St. Jude, Jennings spent well over 120 nights on that floor. It’s not the biggest, and when he was there, certainly was not the shiniest, children’s hospital around. But, we had the best caregivers you could hope for during our stays. We had child life specialists who were constantly bringing toys, willing to play, or creating ways for him to play by closing the playroom just for him. We had nurses that were sensitive to what we were experiencing and the length of our stays who would make special accommodations like bringing medicines early to avoid disrupting bedtime, doing everything in the dark at night, doing vital sign checks at night so another person would not have to enter the room, and letting him scan his own medicines. We had CNAs who would let him skip weight checks on the hard days, come back for vital sign checks when it was clearly a bad time 😂, and were always willing to change the linens multiple times a day after various messy craft or play activities. We also got to know the EVS staff who would clean the room with respect (since it was essentially our home) and thoroughness each day, usually finding a half a set’s worth of Lego pieces for us. We are indebted to all those who took such great care of Jennings and did their part to ease the burden we faced as a family.

That’s a few from the 5-year anniversary of Day Zero, take 2. It was a special day for L & I, but we still sent the kids to school and went to all their evening activities. We celebrated, albeit briefly due to baseball and gymnastics, that night as a family. We had Chick-fil-A takeout and a giant cookie cake at Jennings’s request. While we tried to see who could consume the most fried chicken and chocolate chip cookie between 8 and 9pm we collectively remembered by watching some videos from the “middle of the storm.” A couple favorites…there’s one where Jennings, after we had finished flushing his central line one night, grabbed the lumens and spinning them around said, “My lines go wee-wee, wee-wee!” Another was from the night before he was scheduled to have his central line removed. He realized that having his line out would mean he would be able to resume taking a no-holds-bared bath. He began saying over and over, like a wise six-year-old who had discovered a profound truth, “The key to wife (life) is da bubba-wee baf (bubbly bath).” That’s one of the bright sides of childhood cancer –- there are plenty of moments of levity and laughter if you’re willing to engage.

What a day! We were super thankful to be able to pause and honor it, and all that God has done, with reverence and awe. Here are a few from some of the other days since last time 👇

Lauren took the girls to Savannah one weekend for one of C’s gymnastics meets. They got to stroll down memory lane as that is where we got engaged. Spring means Saturdays at the ballfields! Charlotte (L’s mini me) has gotten a lot of mommy time with C at the gym quite a bit and me with the boys at the baseball fields. Caroline placed 3rd overall in her most recent meet and has been seeing her hard work and perseverance payoff at competitions. Charlotte again agreed to be my date to the annual elementary school daddy-daughter dance. Jennings sizing up a new pitcher at his first game at the Majors level. Henry in a half decent golf stance (I wouldn’t know btw) on a trip to Top Golf courtesy of mommy on a recent teacher workday. Last, that’s Caroline and some of her friends at middle school on their 7th grade trip to Charleston…so thankful for how her middle school experience has been so far!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t update you on the house front. Lord willing, we’ll be in some sort of interim, half-moved state the next time I update the blog. Our patio has been put back together. We are in the process of taping out in blue painter’s tape all of the things we wished we already owned! We have finished floors! The last one is a trivia question…whose bedroom is that?? We have no lights and the windows are taped up (don’t worry, that’s trending), so it’s a little hard to see, but yes, that is pink-on-pink-on-pink. 🤣

I’ve shared this image before. It’s a drawing by Angus Olsen who went on to create a website and social media accounts titled I Draw Childhood Cancer. If you are currently walking through or have experienced childhood cancer, it is worth checking out…his art captures the emotions that so often seem to escape words. This one, though, has always been my favorite. Especially, when Jennings relapsed, I thought it captured the situation so well. I pulled it out on March 11th. I’m thinking about keeping it somewhere I’ll see it regularly, maybe turn it into a sticker…seems a little aggressive for a first tattoo.

Back then, we were surprised, in the worst kind of way, to find ourselves in the circumstances we were in. Now, when we reflect on where we have been and how we felt in those seasons, we are surprised to find ourselves here. At the finish line, a place where our soon-to-be 11-year-old no longer has to see an oncologist, a place where “cured” is the best word, a place where I no longer feel the need to count the “+days” from March 11, 2021, a place where that monster has been slain.

We’ve started a sermon series on the story of Elijah recently. He is first introduced as he faces off confidently and courageously against the king of Israel, called as a prophet to deliver a message. His next two assignments, though, relegate him to obscurity. The first, hiding near a brook and being provided for by God through the brook and ravens. The second, go into a hostile territory and be fed by a widow during the drought. Surprising to him for sure…from challenging the king to this. Not exactly Major League, A+ assignments. Our pastor has said it several times over these first few sermons…God has a right to surprise us. And when we find ourselves surprised, walking through circumstances we didn’t plan on, we can know that He is training us, forming us, and the ultimate goal is our faith. We can find strength by His Spirit to walk the difficult road, to live on His promise’s rather than our current understanding, and to know that He is forming us in the hard. Praise God for that truth.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:3-5  

#allinforjennings