A Layne Post

We thought they wouldn’t have to; they said there would be 6 more months of treatment instead of amputation. Our hopes rose. I stopped praying so hard, so consistently with Anaya. We rejoiced there would be no new trauma while we were out of the country, unable to help in any way. It seemed as though the Lord had chosen mercy. Perhaps this was the one for healing, the one we’d see. This 13 year old boy would potentially have years of soccer ahead of him.

But then the email arrived… the news. Amputated. So permanent. His leg is gone.

I laid in bed crying, for what would not be the last time. It still comes in waves. If only we could get there. Jon would play chess with him. Maybe I’d bake something special. Anaya would do something to bring about his smile. I’d hug his Mama, and beg to help, though there would be little to actually do.

They are fine without us. His Mama is strong and loving. Our dear friend Alice is helping, likely better than we could imagine for ourselves. They may not feel our absence as much as we feel theirs. I think that is a little miracle the Lord does in us; He puts His heart in us, His heart of longing.

The other night we sat around with Jon’s family worshiping the Lord by the fire. We sang about the relentless love of God that pursues us. I wondered if we could ever communicate that love to this boy, if ever he would know how deeply the Father desires and loves him. I wondered if he would struggle to forgive, or be able to understand a love from a Father who has allowed cancer to take all it has. He’s only 13.

Pray with me. Pray the Lord would be relentless in His love, relentless in His pursuit for this boy.

And physically, pray that the boy’s body would be strong and healthy to recover, something we rarely see.