The next night was our last night at home. After we put the kids to bed, Leah’s closest group of friends came over to talk with her and pray with her. I sat upstairs on the floor across from the foot of the bed where my kids were sleeping. Despite what we already knew, I had that sense of being on the precipice of something bigger than our lives. We needed intercession to go before us and come behind us. There on the floor I wrote the first of many updates pouring out my heart for what I, in my limited view, thought we ought to be praying for. The first was initially addressed to our church family at Exodus who had been such an anchor to us, and sent out to the public at large the next day by way of the website Caring Bridge.

Exodus Family, there aren’t words enough to communicate the gratitude we have for you all. With all our hearts, thank you! God has blessed us in a multitude...

Before we left town, Leah wrote in her journal on January 20:

Three days since they told us about this tumor he has, and I’m so broken. Lord, you lost your son, you know how this feels. I don’t feel like I have the luxury of asking “why, God?” I’m asking you, “How long, O Lord?” Like the man born blind, this is for your glory. I am so grateful that you have blessed us with such bright, vibrant children. I’m asking you for a miracle, God—please heal Asher. Bring Asher toward You and transform him into the image of your son. God, you are our only hope in life and death. We talk about what we’re grateful for in that moment. That’s what we have—moments. And we are so grateful for these moments. We have to LIVE in the moments that we have. Now is the time of living, not grieving. God, help us to live. You’ve put an army of your people around us. There aren’t words for the support and...

I’m a light sleeper, and my wife is not, so she graciously allowed me be the one go home at night to sleep while she stayed at the hospital with Asher for those first couple of days. I would typically get home before midnight, do a quick check on things, and go to straight to bed. Sleep wasn’t hard to come by because I was so exhausted. But each morning I would wake up, and the weight of it would hit me, and weep in the shower. A new companion named Grief had come into my life. Every day was a shock and a disbelief of wondering if this was real, or just a nightmare from which I would wake soon. I would have to give grief it’s moment, and then compartmentalize it for the rest of the day so that I could function.

The day of the biopsy, Asher’s neurosurgeon was talking with him about how long it might take him to fall asleep when they give him the anesthesia. I don’t recall what number...

Asher’s MRI went as planned that morning, and before they brought him back to his hospital room, Leah and I were pulled into a consultation room with the neurosurgeon, an oncologist, and a couple of nurses. I don’t recall all of the exact words that were said. They explained the initial diagnosis, and filled in the rest as answers to our questions. We were told that the tumor in Asher’s brain is called a diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma (DIPG). Tje diffuse nature of the tumor means the bad cells are mixed in with healthy cells, so it cannot be removed surgically. It is located in the pons of the brain, which controls the major functions of the body that keep us alive like breathing and heart rate, making it risky to operate on. DIPG tumors are typically aggressive to the point of being considered stage four. The standard of treatment is radiation therapy, which he will need to receive...

Our church small group was bringing over a lot of their kids that evening, because our church was hosting a “preview night” for adults to walk through an old manufacturing that would soon be renovated into our new church home. As kids were filing into the house, I was preparing to leave, because I would be joining one of the tour groups that evening, when my phone rang. It was the ophthalmologist. “We found something. It’s called a brainstem glioma.” I stopped him, and put him on hold for a moment, got a pad and pen, and called downstairs to my wife to come upstairs immediately. She came in, and through the speaker phone, he repeated what he had said to me, telling us that his assistant would be in touch the next morning about getting us the help we needed. We thanked him, ended the call, and looked at each other, stunned by what we had just been told. We both immediately knelt by the...

For our family, December 31, 2018 is a day that will live in infamy. We were on our way home from spending some time with my wife’s family in northeast Mississippi. Our kids, eight-year-old Asher, and four-year-old Annelise, had their faces glued to their devices for much of the ten-hour drive. We had less than two hours to go when Asher broke the silence by calmly stating, “I’m seeing double.” I furrowed my brow while glancing back at him over my shoulder, though I’m not exactly sure what I was looking for. He didn’t look like he felt well, and before I could say anything, my wife suggested that he stop looking at a screen for a while, which wasn’t a bad idea, and I agreed. We brushed it off and pressed onward.

At home, we tried to cover the medical basics. We checked his temperature, and he was running a low-grade fever, no more than 100F, so we assumed this was the culprit, and the...

A few months back, my wife and I had the pleasure of visiting a Mexican restaurant in Charlotte called Cantina 1511. One of the highlights was their guacamole, which is made fresh at your table.

Strangely enough, when visiting the restroom, there was a recipe for guacamole framed on the wall above one of the urinals. Before I walked out of the restroom, I snapped a photo of the recipe.

Since then, I’ve made a couple of attempts, and I must say that I am increasingly pleased with the results.

Here are the ingredients:

• 3 Roma Tomatoes, diced small
• ¼ Medium Red Onion, diced small
• ¼ Cup Chopped Cilantro
• 2 ½ Tablespoons Lime Juice
• 2 ½ Teaspoons Salt
• 3 Avocados (or 2, if they are large)

Optional for spiciness:

• 2 Teaspoons Serrano Chile, Minced, and Seeded

Mix the tomatoes, onion, cilantro, 1 tablespoon of lime juice, and 1 teaspoon of salt into a bowl. If you want the...

While researching my last post, I got this little gem from the same 1958 edition of the Gazette as some of my source material:

Rock Eater Better After 200 Removed

Salem, Oregon - Connie Holland, Salem’s 10-year-old rock eater, has fully recovered after swallowing an estimated 200 rocks.

Her mother Mrs. Patrick Holland said a touch of pneumonia, treatment of which led a week ago to discovery of the rocks inside Connie, also has cleared up.

Connie, who says she now is called “Gravel Gertie,” swallowed the rocks during the past six months because they “tasted real good.”

Doctors, who removed some of the pebbles and let nature take care of the rest, said Connie may have suffered from a mineral deficiency.

In the northeast corner of my neighborhood is a connection to the South Fork Trail of the Carolina Thread Trail network, maintained by the Catawba Lands Conservancy. It’s a nice trail that follows the South Fork River southward for a little over two miles.

During my first stroll on the trail, I had made it about halfway when a bench next to the river caught my eye, and I decided to sit for a moment to rest, and watch the river. As I drew closer, I noticed that the bench was centered on top of large, old blocks, and as I looked out across the water, I saw more of the same blocks, forming at least two bridge piers.

<sub>Old Bridge in the Summer

Old Bridge in the Winter</sub>

The bridge, or what was left of it, was clearly very old, at least for America. But how old was it? What happened to it? I have lived in Gaston County my entire life, and I had never heard of it. I was fascinated, and...