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.

Sunday, April 13, 2014


I'm a fiercely competitive person. When I was a student, I hated earning anything less than a strong A. In fact, a B warranted a bitter round of mental self-flagellation. And a C... well, the horrors of that particular scenario are too upsetting to rehash.

Like all humans, I seek out activities that will allow me to shine. I know I'm a good writer so I write. When I was a kid, I knew I was a good dancer, so I danced.

But life isn't all about adhering to the straight and narrow and doing what we know we're good at doing. Sometimes, maybe more often than we'd like to think, conquering a challenge --a real, bona fide challenge-- is more meaningful than earning fifty As in a row.

When it comes to running, I will never win a race. I'm self-aware enough to realize that someone else on the road will always be faster than me --a whole lot faster!

But that doesn't mean I should torch my tennis shoes.

This morning, I ran my first-ever complete 5K. To this moment, I'm not sure how I did it, because I'm not in great shape and my knees are creaky and my lungs were burning by the time I crossed the finish line. But I finished. And I finished 869th out of 1855 participants, right smack in the middle of the pack. A solid 'C', if you will.

And I am so pleased.

So I got a C in 5K running. The me of my youth would probably be annoyed over the time and would be kicking me for not trying harder. But the truth is, I tried as hard as I could. When I crossed that finish line, I knew with 100% certainty that I had done my absolute best. I laid every bit of what I had to offer out on the table.

And it was good enough for 869th place.

Because here's the thing. If I'd said 'aw, naw, I'm not doing THAT because I suck at running,' I never would've been out on that road, utterly alone amid that pack of joggers. And I never would've had the morning to run and remember and focus on Logan and all he went through just to live a few extra months with us. And I never would've called out to God to ask for help when I wasn't sure I could make it. If I'd stayed in my comfort zone, I never would've been in the position to need help. And believe me, after not training at all for the past year, it's a miracle I managed to jog 3.1 miles straight without stopping! A true miracle. Had I remained tucked into my happy zone, I would've missed seeing that prayer for help be answered. The whole 'You are strong in my weakness' thing? Totally true.

So, open yourself up to miracles. Put yourself in uncomfortable situations. And then ask for help.

And you'll get it.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

The Weight

A few weeks ago, Abby and I started taking walks together after dinner, while Adam puts the Little Boys to bed. We had a particularly poignant exchange a few days back that's really stayed with me.

As we strolled through the park, I asked her why she's mean to Isaac and Brady. Why she excludes them. Why she'll be nice one moment and then horribly unkind the next.

She released a great sigh. I thought she was going to say something snotty or dramatic; I thought she would, for the upteenth time, accuse me of loving her less than the others, or even worse, of not loving her at all.

But she didn't. And what did come out of her mouth shocked me.

With a sad sort of reticence in her eyes, she looked up at me, swatted a hair out of her eyes, and said I included Logan. I loved Logan. And he died..

The words were like a slap to the face. She's scared that if she loves them like she loved Logan, they'll leave her.

I wasn't sure what to say. I cleared my throat, but my 36 years on this planet haven't given me the right words to respond. So instead, I told her to never fear loving someone else. I told her to love as well as she could; to embrace others for who they are and to look for shades of God in everyone she meets.

And then we got home and she went up to bed and I sat alone in the dark, ruminating over how unfair it is that my 9-year old has to shoulder such an impossibly heavy burden.