Blogging is a Moving Meditation.

BLOGGING as a MOVING MEDITATION: Liminality's thin passage untangles as it weaves, fits in the ineffable nooks and crannies of my heart's prayer wall, like the cracks in pavement, mile markers on the road, windblown whimsical napkin poems written in eyeliner.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010


We have some VERY dear friends in N.Carolina that hold a deep place in our heart's pocket.  When Ken Helser told me that his 14 year old grandson, Spencer was diagnosed with "Ewing's sarcoma" in August 09, my heart broke.  There are some things that happen in this earthly realm that piss me off to the core and this would be one of them.

I've been following his posts on CaringBridge and will post the link at the end.
I'm asking here that for those of you who read my blog, pop in on occasion and or stumbled on to it....... to PRAY..... please.
I'm going to copy and paste a few things- including an article that was written about Spencer in the High Point Enterprise on 10/24/10 by Jimmy Tomlin  - but first a word from Spencer...

My name is Spencer Daniel Wilson and I am 14 years old.  I was diagnosed on August 20, 2009 with Ewing's sarcoma.  I completed eight months of chemo on March 15, 2010.  I was in  remission for six months, but I relapsed on September 16, 2010.  I am now undergoing chemo and radiation at Brenner's and then a vaccine study at NIH.  Keep praying for a miracle!   

Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." 


Thank you for all of your prayers.  It has really touched me and I know God will answer them.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" Phillipians 4:13.  Please pray for me as I start my chemo therapy treatment tomorrow.  I also have a portocath being put in.  Thanks again for all of your prayers and may God be with you.
Spencer Wilson 

Here is the article - i would ask that you take the time to read it and pray for this young lad and his family.  

HIGH POINT – One afternoon about a month ago, as Spencer Wilson stepped out on a rock ledge at Hanging Rock State Park, his mother Jodie snapped a photograph – not just of her 14-year-old son, but also of the vast, beautiful expanse stretching out far beneath him.

It wasn’t until later, as Jodie studied the photo, that she remembered Spencer’s fear of heights. Yet there he stood on the precipice, calmly, confidently surveying the scenery in front of him.

“It made me think about what he is going through,” Jodie says.

What Spencer’s going through – again – is cancer. Specifically, it’s Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare malignancy that Spencer was able to beat the first time around after an intensive chemotherapy regimen that claimed his hair, made him nauseous, sapped his strength and – temporarily, at least – derailed his dreams of someday playing college basketball.

Spencer celebrated his last day of chemo March 15, and a week later he was declared in remission.

That lasted half a year. In mid-September, following Spencer’s six-month checkup, a biopsy showed the cancer had returned. With Ewing’s, the odds of beating it the first time are favorable, but when the patient has a relapse – and particularly so soon – the prognosis is dismal.

“The quicker it comes back,” Jodie says softly, “the cancer is more vicious.”

Spencer knows this, because his parents have shared everything with him. He knows that in the cold, statistical world of medical science, odds are that he will die – and if his current treatment regimen doesn’t work, it could happen in as little as six months to a year.

But there’s something else Billy and Jodie Wilson have shared with their son – their faith in a sovereign, merciful, loving God who still performs miracles.

“He is not a God of percentages,” Billy says.

“He’s much bigger than cancer,” Jodie adds.

Spencer knows this, too, and it shows in how he carries himself. With a full head of hair now and a big, confident smile of perfectly straight teeth – courtesy of the braces he recently had taken off – he looks more like a fashion model than a cancer patient.

“I feel great,” he says, explaining that while he does tire more easily than usual, his chemo treatments have not yet taken a heavy toll on his body.

Spencer admits, however, that the initial news of the relapse stunned him.

“I just got really angry – not necessarily at God, but just mad,” he says. “I didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t figure out why this was happening.”

Nor could his parents, who believed God had healed their son.

“It was like a dagger,” Billy says of the diagnosis. “Everything had been going so great.”

Indeed, Spencer’s three-month checkup had been perfect. He’d been working out and playing basketball almost daily to get back in shape after his first bout with cancer. He’d been to several basketball camps. Only a few hours before learning he had relapsed, Spencer had been at Davidson College, where he met one of his favorite players, former Davidson great Stephen Curry (who, coincidentally, had sent Spencer a signed jersey during his first illness).

When Spencer’s parents told him about the relapse, he asked questions: How long do I have to live? How can I be away from my family? My dream of playing college basketball isn’t going to happen, is it? Do I have to do chemo again?

“That was really, really tough,” Billy says. “But we also had a really amazing conversation, a spiritual conversation about eternity. We talked about how God is in this, and He totally understands. We told him we were going to be with him every step of the way, and we were praying for a miracle and believing that God was going to get him through this and heal him.”

They cried together and prayed together. And then, Billy says, a peace seemed to come over Spencer, and he hasn’t cried since. Yes, he’s had his moments of frustration – when the chemo made him sick, for example – but he has remained upbeat and even maintains his quirky sense of humor.

“He’s handled it so well – he’s a unique kid,” Billy says.

The medical protocol calls for a staggered regimen of chemo – one week on, two weeks off – as well as a five-week blitz of daily radiation treatments. If the cancer begins to shrink, Spencer will also participate in a clinical vaccine study at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Md., traveling there every other week for three to five days at a time.

In the meantime, the family has committed itself to praising God through what promises to be a difficult storm.

“The first week we were just so overwhelmed with grief,” Jodie explains, “...and when you have so much grief, you don’t have room for joy. We knew we had to move past that place, because you’re immobilized when you’re overwhelmed with grief. There’s no place for joy, no place for laughter, no place to praise the Lord, so we knew we had to get out of that place.”

Spencer, too, has moved past his initial anger. He thinks the relapse has actually strengthened his faith and caused him to cling to his God more tightly than he already had been.

Which brings us back to Jodie’s photograph of her son, standing on that precipice, calmly, confidently surveying the scenery in front of him.

That sounds an awful lot like Spencer’s approach to cancer, doesn’t it?

“It takes faith,” Jodie says of her son, “to stand boldly up against your greatest fears and trust the Lord has you securely in His hand.” | 888-3579

Thank you all  for taking the time to read this Blog post... and for praying.

If you would like to follow Spencer's journey in this storm please go to:

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