About Us

Our family of 6 (dad Adam, mom Sherry, big sister Abby and little brothers Isaac and Brady -- who was born on December 14, 2010) joined the ranks of pediatric cancer fighters when our 4-year old son Logan was diagnosed with a dangerous and highly malignant form of brain cancer in mid-August 2010. Logan's cancer journey began abruptly on Sunday, August 15, when his right eye suddenly turned inward during dinner. Twenty-four hours later, we were checking into Children's Hospital Oakland and finding out that life sometimes takes you places you'd never, ever imagine yourself going.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

No Title

I don't feel like being witty tonight. I don't feel like doing much of anything but sleep. I know, from previous experience, that I'm standing on an emotional precipice. I slogged through today, tired from Brady's antics last night, from dealing with my fractured family, from trekking to CHO to sit with Logan for two hours, only to have him tell me repeatedly that he didn't want me -- just daddy, from second-guessing myself and everything I've ever believed about God, faith and the purpose of this life. I know: Pretty weighty material. I could just internalize it all and pretend that I'm fine, but I'm not a particularly good liar anyway. I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I may as well be truthful as I write.

To call all of this 'hard' or 'difficult' or 'challenging' is a massive understatement. It's torturous. It's shattering. It's destructive in ways that I can't even begin to try to express.

Although I'm relieved that Logan didn't bleed out in the ER Tuesday, I'm angry. I'm angry that 'hey, at least he didn't bleed to death' has to qualify as a positive thing in my life. Of course it's a good thing; it's a wonderful thing. But it's sad that bleeding out was ever even an option, that it was ever something that could happen.

I'm really just sad. Very, very sad. I feel like the past week has sucked out every nugget of hope I'd held in my heart. I truly feel hopeless; like it doesn't matter that I've prayed for Logan to be healed every moment of every day for the past 6 months. It feels like I'm just going to lose him and there's nothing I can do about it. I know that when faced with pressure like that, I should just push back harder against my fears and pray more, but friends of mine, I'm so tired. So emotionally spent. I feel so defeated and beaten and drained and broken. I'm so tired of watching him take an apparent step forward only to have it ripped away a day or a week later. I'm tired of watching him suffer, I'm tired of not being with him, I'm tired of dealing with the heartbreak and the disappointment and the setbacks. I just want him to be well. I've been crying out for that. And I wonder, as I stumble along this path, if anything I thought was real is actually real.

As for the day, Logan did continue to improve. Adam's mom called a little while ago to update me and dealt a blow when she said that the next surgery -- the second attempt to remove the mass -- won't be for at least another 10 days. Of course, that's what neuro said; we'll see what oncology says. But the second she said '10 days', fear struck my heart like a bullet. We're not dealing with a slow-growing, low grade tumor. We're dealing with fast-growing, high grade material. Waiting 10 days could be the end of it all. It could negate the good work the chemo did. It could allow the tumor to wrap itself around the nerve fibers all over again.

I know what I should do here. I know I should just pray pray pray. But I can't. I can't see God, I can't feel God, I can't understand God. I don't expect to understand Him, per se. I just expect to feel loved, I expect to see Logan feel loved... and I don't see or feel those things. What's going on here -- our broken family, Logan's suffering, my own emotional strife... all of it -- doesn't line up with the image of God as a loving Father. And so I struggle. I know that it's easy to keep that view of God when you're not suffering. When you're in the thick of it... it's not easy at all.

I should note, just to be fair, that as I was putting Abby to bed, I did my Bible-flip thing and came to the story of Jesus healing the blind beggar. He clarified that the man hadn't done anything to cause his blindness; it wasn't from sin or something his parents had done. Rather he was blind so that God could show his power in the man's life. The tears spilled over as I struggled through the words. Are they true? Do the apply in Logan's life? Is it all lost for him when it comes to life on this earth? Will he use Logan to show His healing power? I wish I knew.

Anyway, I'm sorry for the negative post. If I know me, I'll be back to my usual self soon enough. We all have highs and lows, after all. Pray, if you wish. I want to believe, I want my faith and hope restored. But right now, it all seems so far away.


  1. I want to hug you so hard, Sherry. It's ok to feel what you are feeling. We are here to pray for you. One minute at a time, one prayer at a time. We are thinking about you and Logan constantly.

  2. It's okay to be weak, Sherry. In our weakness, He is strong... love you and praying for YOU tonight. And Logan. And Adam and Abby and Isaac and Brady.

  3. I'm praying for you, Sherry, and for Logan and your whole family.

  4. You have every right to feel and express every emotion you experience. Yes, we all love the way you write and your wittiness, but no one reads this blog for entertainment purposes. Sherry, as I read your words, I feel your utter exhaustion and heartache and all I can say is I am so sorry. I don't know what you are going through. I can't even imagine. I hate that the ugliness of life has to touch beautiful and innocent ones like your precious Logan. To say that God has a purpose in all that happens is easy for an outsider to say.. it's not us in your shoes, enduring the emotional torture that you are. But, God bless you Sherry and your entire family. I do pray that you get the miracle you so deserve.

  5. Praying, praying, and praying!

  6. When you get to the point where you can't find the strength to pray, we will pray for you. Sherry, I was watching a video with Andy Stanley and the whole time I was thinking of you and Logan and what you are all dealing with. He was talking about how when you are dealing with life changing situations like this it's so hard to see God as a good God and a loving God. But he said that God didn't even spare His own son from suffering.

    No, it's not fair - it's the furthest thing from fair. I will pray that you are able to see God in what is going on. I will pray for rest for you and for complete healing for Logan. I wish that I could just be there with you and hold your hand. If there is anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask. I love your family so very much and I've never even met you. (((hugs)))

  7. Logan and your family are being constantly covered in prayer, so when you can't pray, rest and know that we are all praying for you.

  8. You have every right to be angry, negative and everything else. What you are going through is torture pure and simple. There are signs of positive things happening with Logan and we all are praying that be will be healed.

  9. Sherry, we will JOIN you in prayer when you can...And let us do the praying when you simply can't! No apologies needed ~ that is what your "Logan team" is here for. Don't let satan let you feel guilty or bad that you don't feel able to pray right now ~ just throw it in his face that you have a whole group of warriors doing it for you.
    We love you and will not cease in praying for Logan's release from this evil cancer.

  10. Dear Sherry,

    I wanted to let you know that I have passed on Logan's name to my friend who is entering a Carmelite cloister today. She and her fellow sisters will pray for Logan around-the-clock. (Carmelite nuns pray pretty much unceasingly - that's their calling in the Catholic Church.)

    So please, do not worry if you're (understandably) unable to pray. We are all praying for you, and the word continues to be spread.

  11. Let us carry you through these dark times.

    Let us pray for you when you can no longer pray yourself.

    Let us love on you and be a safe place for you to fall.

    These are terrifying and dark times, sweet sister, and even though you may not see Him, or hear Him or feel Him... He is with you and he loves Logan more than we can even imagine.

    One step at a time, one breath at a time. Don't ever give up hope that the Lord can change things in an instant.

  12. I'm here, Sherry. Reading along and praying.


  13. I am so sorry that you are sad and going through this. I hope that the next surgery goes better for Logan.