The Mountains and Valleys Traveled the Past Four Years

For those who do not know me, my name is Katie. I am Zach a.k.a. "Dr. Fresh's" older sister. The past four years for my family have been a series of crisis and celebrations—a jumbled mess of crippling pain and seemingly unending joy. For example, Thanksgiving 2013 my Dad announced to our family that he had colon cancer. A few weeks later, my husband and I were engaged. In April of 2014, Papa Joe, one of the pillars of strength, love, support, and stubbornness in our family finally succumbed to his struggle with a litany of debilitating illnesses. Two months after his death, however, our family experienced one of the greatest days in our lives by celebrating my husband and my marriage, the joining of our families, and the creation of our own family with our son Drake. We laughed, shed happy tears, and spent the entire day surrounded by love. It was a very welcomed relief. Through the course of 2015 and 2016, our family endured the death of my Grandma Dana, the heart of our family; another cancer scare; a second cancer diagnoses; surgeries; and even more personal struggles. All have tested our endurance and our strength. I remember my Mom and I tearfully looking at each other a few years ago and saying, “Can we please just have a break?”  

I admit when Zach first approached us about hiking the PCT I was scared, but I knew that God was calling him. The look in his eyes told me that nothing was going to stop him either. As a result, my initial fear turned into excitement, which transformed to an overwhelming sense of peace. I have never truly worried about Zach while he was on the trail, even though many of the challenges he faces can mean the difference between life and death. At the same time, my Dad is undergoing a similar journey with the same stakes. Even though the chances that my father might not beat colon cancer are slim, they are still there. Yet, through it all, I have felt more peace than I have fear.  

Dad’s first diagnosis was the first time any of us had experienced colon cancer. We didn’t know what to expect, and the odds of it returning were so minuscule we didn’t think even contemplate it coming back. We completely unprepared for the second diagnosis. Despite going through it before, the second time brought more difficult challenges. The first treatment cycle Dad was able to have more “good days.” This time, it seems like he hardly ever gets a rest from the nausea and fatigue. He also lost all of his hair, which was shocking because he looks more like a stereotypical “cancer patient.” (Not entirely, you still look good, Dad) Through it all, he still smiles and praises God. Yet, his smile seems a little weaker and his voice is a little more worn down this time around.

My mom is already a chronic worrier. Unfortunately, she inherited that from my grandmother, the worry queen. Dad's cancer was the first time in more than 25 years of marriage he was the one who was seriously ill or injured.  In the beginning, the second time was harder for Mom than the first, but she recovered. I have been exceedingly impressed with how calm she has been while Zach has been on the trail. It is a testament to how much stronger she is after going through my Dad’s cancer diagnoses. She no longer worries as much.

Parents typically hide their hurts from their children because they want them to feel safe and secure. I understand that now, because as a parent I do the same thing. Drake has seen me break down twice after David told me my grandparents were gone. Drake’s wide eyes, intently watching me cry, showed me how afraid he was to see me so upset, so weak. I needed to be strong for him. I choked down the tears, talked with him about why I was so upset, and explained to him that it was OK to be sad and cry when we lose the people we love.

I can hardly bear to even consider the idea of my Dad or Mom not being here to watch him grow. I know that there are many people out there, including some of my friends, who are not as lucky as we are. They have lost their husband/Dad to cancer or some other disease. I am grateful for our circumstance. My son worships his “Big Wills” and loves his “Little Wills.” I do not want to imagine my son’s life or mine without them.

 

A few weeks ago my mother posted on Facebook that,

“Cancer doesn't just affect the person with the illness, it affects the whole family. Our lives are all changed. We find ourselves on our knees praying about so many things. The good that has come out of his illness is that in the midst of trials is where you grow the most. We learn to appreciate what we have and enjoy today.”

Cancer has changed our family. For the good. These past few years have seemed like nothing but one thing after another. I have probably spent months in prayer, pleading with God to protect our family and to heal it. Sometimes the weight of it all felt like it was going to crush me and our family, but we remained strong. Our strength, however, did not come from within. It was given to us by Christ and by the power of prayer.

At first I didn’t understand why Zach chose James 1 2:4 as his verse for the trail. I thought, why not choose Isaiah 40:3-5? It didn’t occur to me until recently that Zach didn’t choose the verse for his trip, but for our family. The last few years I’ve witnessed how much our family has grown and how much stronger we’ve become. We have scaled mountains only to slide violently down into the valley. In all those valleys, however, God, our living water was there. God has used all our circumstances for His good. He allowed us to witness to others and show that even in our struggles there is goodness. We found joy in the pain. Whatever you are going through, God has a purpose and his plans are always good.

Coincidentally, the end of Zach’s journey is towards the final stretch of my Father’s fight against colon cancer. The end of these trails also means an end to my mother’s anxieties. For David and I, our journey is not quite over, but I know that in the end God will prevail. The experience Zach is gaining and the beauty he is witnessing is truly food for the soul, nourishment to weary bones, and a sweet release from the burdens of life that he so desperately needs.

The beard

I know that when Zach returns home he will not only be changed physically (I mean, have you seen the beard?) but also spiritually and emotionally. When we greet him either at home or at the end of the trail my Dad, Mom, David, and myself will also be changed from the roads we've navigated the last few months. I am so glad that Zach has been able to escape to the trail to be able to rest from all the stress and tragedies that have happened. I hope that when our family’s struggles from the past year are over each of us can escape, if only for a little while. So that we may finally rest. That day is not here yet, but when comes I can assure you I will be jumping for joy then take a nap, because I am exhausted. Joyful, but exhausted. 

It has been difficult without Zach. I do have a feeling that sooner or later he will be called to the wilderness again. Selfishly, I hope it won’t come for at least a few more months (maybe a year).

If you read this blog and still do not understand how we are able to remain so strong and positive through some of the most trying times in our lives, I have the answer for you. Jesus.

Without Jesus, we are nothing. Our family would have never survived this without our faith in Him. Without our church, prayer warriors, and friends this process would have been much more difficult and a lot lonelier. We feel people’s prayers for us. We know God will protect Zach, heal my Dad, and take care of our family. Understanding these things brings a peace only believers can fathom. 

If you have any questions or want to know more about God, please speak to anyone in our family. We will be happy to share God's love with you and tell you all the good things a relationship with Him offers.