Sorrow – Page 4 – Witkowski Blog

January 27, 2020January 27, 2020 Peter Witkowski Memos

Memo: In Memory of My Church Mom: The Loving Jean Miller

Jean Miller

Words faded into tears as the news of Jean Miller’s death sunk into our souls. Though we were separated by age, time, and space, April and I were knit into Jean’s heart.

Shortly after the death of our first-born son, Peter Alexander, Jean gave April and me the biggest hugs and adopted us into her family, promising our families that She and Junior would look after us. From the moment forward, I was her “church son.” And she was April’s and my “church mother.”

She loved us well She put her arm around our shoulders as we grieved the loss of 2^nd Peter. She struck that glorious balance between allowing us to grieve and keeping us from despair. Every tear-filled conversation ended with glorious reminders of Jesus’s love and goodness.

When the sun of God’s grace shinned upon our lives, Jean celebrated with us, cherishing both Luke and Lily. She greeted our kids with smiles and found ways to playful extract them from their caves of shyness. Despite’s Lily’s obstinate character, Jean never gave up trying to get our little ice queen to smile. Jean would stick her fingers into ears and would scrunch up her face into the funniest contortions. Somehow, Junior still got Lily to smile first, a feat Jean could never understand.Her lap was always available to them; Luke and Lily used it often. When cancer descended upon April, she and Junior were some of the first friends to call us and to pray for us. Her love for us never ended.

When her insecure “church son” launched a leadership team to minister to the families of FBCE, she and Junior took a chance and linked arms with April and me. Jean walked with April and I through insane VBS weeks, exciting nerf-guns battles, and vintage Reformation Festivals. I can still see Jean dressed in her bonnet covering and uncovering a host of fake relics as she and Junior explained the importance of salvation by grace alone.

I can also see Jean shaking with laughter as she and Junior explained the meaning of the rat emoji that she accidentally texted to the whole team. Though she loved to laugh, she also kept her family and all of us in line. Anytime Junior, Ian Wynn, or someone else took something too far like the expression, “The Face of Discipline” Jean would give ‘the look’ followed by a “Hey now” and return things to order. She brought laughter a joy into every life she touched.

But, the thing I remember most about Jean was her smile. Come the fun of church picnics, the craziness of Wednesday nights, or anniversary of her daughter’s death, Jean always smiled. The joy that adorned her face transcended reality and yet was grounded in the truest reality of all: the saving mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though her heart had been nicked and scared by many a hardship, she knew the saving power of Jesus Christ. She seen Jesus transform both her life and Junior’s life. Nothing could take that joy from her. Even when she was worn and tired, the peace of Jesus shone in her face and resounded in her laughter. Her smile shone brightly when she bounded up from our table and washed the our dishes. It was that smile that graciously welcomed April and our kids into her home and kept our kids from wanting to ever leave Jean’s living room. And it was that smile, that lit up the church as Jean taught Sunday School, helped in the nursery, and swung by the welcome desk to ask how

April and I were doing. Indeed, Christ was in Jean. To see her smile was to catch a glimpse of heaven.

Yesterday, that glimpse of heaven ascended into heaven. Jean smile is the now the smile of perfect peace and happiness. Indeed heaven is her greatest gain. “Those the son sets free are free indeed (John 8:36).” I cannot wish her back into the bondage of this miserable world.

But I also cannot help but miss my “church mom’s” infectious smile.

With much Love,

Peter and April Witkowski

June 23, 2019May 11, 2020 Peter Witkowski Memos

Memo: April’s Breast Cancer Third Update June 2019

breas-cancer-3 Our feet have touched the cool soft dirt of hope. This past Wednesday, June 19, April began her hormone therapy.

The preparation for this first day of battle has been vastly extensive, slowly hurried, and ever changing. We have talked with clinics in Virginia, Houston, New York, and Memphis. On multiple occasions, we prepared to head north or south with fully packed suitcases. Then the phone would ring and toss all our nicely folded plans across the floor. We would spend the next 24-48 hours pouring over new medical charts, praying, and rearranging tickets in preparation for a trip West or East. Then April’s phone would buzz again. After a few more conversations, our compass would reveal a completely new and unanticipated direction. Often what seemed a long shot on Monday would become our future on Wednesday and then would disappear from our plans on Thursday.

After three weeks rearranging and repacking, April and I found ourselves headed North to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. We grabbed tickets on a Thursday and arrived in Minnesota the following Monday.

The doctors and medical team at Mayo reviewed April’s medical records. They then performed a bone scan, a biopsy of the cancer in her bones, a genetic test, a CT scan, an X-ray, and multiple blood panels. After examining April’s medical history, the oncologist at Mayo reaffirmed April’s original diagnosis. April has hormone-receptor positive and HER2-negative metastatic breast cancer. The cancer began in her breast about a year ago and then spread (metastasized) throughout her bones. The cancer feeds off the estrogen and progesterone in April’s body. To fight the cancer, April will take pills to stop her body from producing the two hormones. If the pills are successful, April should live another five to six years. Though we were well acquainted with this information prior to our trip, we had hoped for brighter news.

Then the sliver of sunshine that we had been seeking appeared. After the initial review, the oncologist said April was a candidate for the Mayo Clinic Promise study. The observation study would provide April and her doctors with a detailed analysis of April’s tumors’ genetic sequencing for the purpose of, “developing personalized treatment approaches to improve patient outcomes.” In other words, the research team would chart the genetic makeup of April’s tumors for the purpose finding which drugs and treatments would best overcome her unique form of cancer and extend her life. To see April’s cancer in action, the researchers would attempt to grow and then kill April’s unique cancer cells in the laboratory. Though the Promise study does not promise a cure and anticipates of being of more value to the next generation of cancer patients than to April, it did offer April an unmatched level of care and provided us with a slim but very real chance of better treatment options going forward.

Impressed with the research plan and the culture of the Mayo Clinic, April agreed to participate in the study during our first day at the Mayo Clinic. She spent the next four days enduring a long battery of tests to ensure that she qualified for the Promise study.

This past Tuesday (6/18/19), April received the phone call! She was in! The next day, she swallowed her first hormone pill; she had officially begun the first leg of her cancer treatment.

After weeks of packing, unpacking, and repacking, we are overjoyed to be actively battling this horrible disease that has spread upwards to April’s skull and downwards to the top of her left leg.

Moreover, we also excited to be led by the best medical guides possible. We will be checking-in with the research team at Mayo every two months for the next six months to chart the growth of April’s cancer. Then, we will fly to Rochester every three months for the remainder of the study. The study will track April for up to seven years or until the hormone therapy fails and the cancer begins to grow afresh.

Admittedly, there is also a chance our time on this path could be short. Thirty percent of cancer patients who begin this trek encounter the rugged cliff of disappointment associated with the therapy’s failure within the first two months. Those patients who receive no benefit from the hormone therapy will return to home and head off in the direction of chemotherapy.

We do not know how rocky our path will be; we do not know how long we will be on the path.

But we know that our Lord is the good shepherd who leads us to green pastures. We have and will continue to appeal to our great shepherd for help and deliverance as we navigate this twisty path. Even if we encounter dead end after dead end and begin to inch closer towards the Valley of the Shadow of death, we will not lose hope. Our God promises to fight our enemies with his rod and to keep us close to his love with his staff.

Admittedly, the winds of circumstance and emotions regularly swirl around us and whisper thoughts of doom into our ears. At times, we listen to them and neglect the voice of our good Shepherd. Like our first parents in the Garden of Eden, we begin to doubt the goodness of God. But then, we raise our head afresh and remember how our good Shepherd has proved himself over and over again, saving us from our sins, walking with us through the death of our son, and increasing our faith over these last weeks. Truly he is our comfort. Ultimately, we have nothing to fear for our spot in the house of the Lord is not in question. The love of our shepherd is not in doubt.

Moreover, we have everything to hope. God has not promised to heal April directly. Sadly, she is not mentioned by name in the Bible. (Luke, Lily, and I are…but that’s another matter and requires some really bad exegesis…anyway🤪) But, God has promised her and me and all his people that our cups will overflow. Our enemies, April’s cancer, will not have the last word. God tells us that goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives. He promises to do good for April and me. So we boldly ask God to heal April and to do the unexpected so that the whole world may know that our God, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, is the one true God. We confidently ask God to be good to us for he has promised to be our Shepherd.

We have also seen God’s amazing goodness in the faces of our family and friends these last weeks. We have been overwhelmed by the ever-growing number of cards, texts, letters, emails, and Facebook messages. When the days have been dark, the news murky, and the path unclear, your messages full of prayers and Scripture have breathed hope into our souls. We may not have responded to every message and letter. But, we have read them (many more than once). We are thankful for the colorful signatures, the prayers of our former students, the empathy of our peers and the encouragement of those who have a year or two on us. We are thankful to have so many voices constantly reminding our spirits of God’s character!

We are also thankful for the many, many people who have sacrificed for us and our kiddos. Our families and friends have been the hands and feet of Jesus these last few weeks. You have watched our children, covered medical bills, cooked meals, secured hotel rooms, located medical records, and found rental cars. To borrow an expression from the great missionary William Cary, our families, our sweet Amissville Baptist Church Family, our kind friends in Eastman, GA, and our brothers and our sisters who reside everywhere from the Asia to South America have held the rope of ministry tightly as we waded into this trial. Thank you!

Please continue to hold the rope with us and as we continue down this path.

And please continue to pray.

Please pray for April’s healing. In about two months, we will know if the drugs have been effective. Pray that the next CT scans reveal a healing of supernatural proportions.

Pray for our faith. The days can be long and the news troubling. Pray that we will not trust feelings, hunches, or guesses but the character of God as revealed in the Word of God as walk into valleys and stumble over rocks.

Pray that God will bless our family as we seek to create a new normal that revolves around cheese-puffs, diapers, preschool, sermon prep, and cancer pills.

Contact Info:

Email us at: biblefighter@gmail.com

You can reach us via snail-mail at : P.O. Box 637/ Amissville, VA 20106

You are also welcome two reach out to the elders of Amissville Baptist Church, Mark Hockensmith and Bill Brown, at: 540-937-6159.

GOFundMe Page

Though April and I welcome inquirers and emails, calls, and texts of support, they can be overwhelming at times. We appreciate your patience with our responses.

We plan to also keep posting updates here at witkowskiblog.com

Thank you for your love, prayers, and never-ending support.

Sustained By Grace Through Faith,

Peter & April

June 9, 2019May 11, 2020 Peter Witkowski Memos

Memo: April’s Second Breast Cancer Update, June 2019

Memo2-breast-cancer The storm has arrived. The small, misty drops from the top of the early storm-breakers have reached our souls. The monstrous, well-formed waves of April’s cancer that threaten to capsize our life have not yet come into view. But there is no doubting the arrival of this storm in our lives.

Over the last few weeks, April’s occasional back pain has become more intense and has lasted for longer periods of times. She has felt sorrow as she weaned her baby girl and has stopping picking up our 3 year-old and 5 year-old. Over the past few days, she has also felt the first side effects of her cancer medication, fevers and bone pain. We spend our days researching drugs, calling doctors, and hunting down medical records. April’s stage four breast cancer has arrived.

After listening to several doctors, nurses, and nurse practitioners, April and I can now discuss the essential elements of this cancerous storm with some certainty. We know her tumor has existed at least since last November. At that time and on two ensuing occasions, April discussed a lump in her breast with her OGBYN. He ignored her concerns, saying he would schedule a mammogram or ultrasound for her in June if the lump still existed. April’s breast cancer has grown slowly, feeding off of estrogen and progesterone. But with that being said, we know the cancer has had time to extensively flow throughout April’s body. The cancer has metastasized, expanding from the confines of her breast to reach her lymph nodes, her blood, and her bones. The cancer could also possibly reside in her liver, but the tests are not conclusive.

The ER+ and PR+ and HER2- breast cancer is considered a more treatable and manageable form of breast cancer. Employing hormone therapy and eventually chemotherapy, doctors think the cancer’s raging waters can be held at bay and potentially pushed back into the sea of suffering from whence they came. However, the storm will eventually adapt, regain strength, and come back to our shores.

Medicine cannot cure hormone based cancer.
According to the doctors, the cancer will most likely crash into our hearts with life-taking power in 6 or 7 years. But the doctor’s expectations are little more than the law of last year’s averages. In many ways, our storm still lacks a defined shape. Until April begins her treatment and the doctors measure how her cancerous storm responds to the various therapies, we can only vaguely speak of the storm’s path, duration, and ability to cause harm. April and I hope and pray that April will be able to successfully battle the waves of this storm for the next 15 to 20+ years.

Just as communities turn to sandbags, bulldozers, and the National Guard for help as massive storms approach, we have reached out to the top breast cancer clinics in Virginia and as well as the top three breast cancer clinics in the United States. We will do all in our power to bolster April’s natural defenses. We will begin exploring treatment options and clinical trials at Mayo Clinic, Sloan-Kettering, and UVA during the next two weeks. Hopefully we will be able to share more about the location and nature of April’s treatment come early July.

When storms of this life changing magnitude slam into our lives, we invariably find our minds drifting to the “why” questions. Why did God allow April’s OGBYN to ignore her concerns about a lump in her breast? Why did God send her, me, our children, and our extended families into this storm? Why did not allow her cancer in the first place?

I honestly don’t know why. But this I do know: God is good, and God is with us! Isaiah 43:1-2 says:

But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

Isaiah spoke these words to Hezekiah. His kingdom was under attack and at the point of death. But God promised to be with his people as they suffer. April and I experienced the special presence of God when we lost our first-born-son Peter Alexander in 2013. Christ stood with us then. And we are sure that God is standing with us now because we are certain that Jesus left the tomb and reigns in heaven.

As we dive into the waves of the latest storm, we trust that God will strengthen our muscles of faith, belief, and trust. Each time we fear the waves will overwhelm us, God arrives and saves us. He has dried our many tears with the warmth of his love. And as we have begun to speculate the about a wifeless and motherless future, God’s Word has reminded us that we have nothing to fear. We are his redeemed people. No wave or fire will break us for our God stands with us amidst the storm. There is no fear to large for God. As the hymn says, “All I ever needed thy hand hath provided.”

In Mathew 8:23-27, the disciples were tossed violently by the sea. They turned to Jesus in a panic and said, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” Notice how Jesus responded:

And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.”

We are tempted to fear. But then we look and see our savior resting peacefully for he rules the waves and April’s cancer.

He is our hope. As we suffer with Christ, we find our Lord and savior to be so sweet and so good. He’s with us, he hears us, and he will deliver us! We can confidently say that the words Psalm 34:8 become true with each passing day.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.