I love adventure, but I hate going in blind. So much so that before any trip, I will get on Google Earth and look at where I’m staying and what’s around it. Before a long drive, I will map out where I’m headed and what’s on the way. I love the ability to partially envision what’s next and where we’ll be. We’re not able to do that right now. Nicole’s last round of chemo starts next week. We don’t know what’s next. To be candid, there’s some fear that comes with that. When Nico

I’ve preached that title—using pain as a passport to influence places you’d never voluntarily go to. To be fair I’m sure I heard it elsewhere, fit something I was working on so I used it. Though I knew what it meant—watching it firsthand it is altogether different. Nicole was admitted Tuesday for round 5 of chemo. When she arrived to her room a nurse said to her, “Apparently you’re a celebrity up here because all the nurses want you.” Knowing Nicole, I’m sure she dismissed it

Years ago, my dad pointed out that I’m still trying to emulate my favorite musician from childhood. While I’m not musically talented, like this artist I drive a Jeep, grew my hair out, have an affinity for white t-shirts, and enjoy walking barefoot. Touché, dad. Rich Mullins’ music has resurfaced in my Jeep lately, like a soundtrack to the journey we’re on. One song that some claim is “raw,” as if it’s somehow edgy, is “Hard To Get.” Mullins writes about his frustrations of f

This blew my mind. For the last year, I’ve been reading through a book called Morning & Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon — a daily devotional over a century old. Admittedly, I’ve missed days here and there, especially the day I took Nicole into the ER for emergency surgery—the same day we found out about her cancer. So I went back to April 29 to read Spurgeon’s devo for that day of disaster. I missed what I needed that day, and I'm thankful I went back now. Maybe it’ll encourag

After Nicole’s first diagnosis, we sat in her hospital bed as her phone played one of my favorite hymns, Come Thou Fount. There’s a line that for a while confused me—“Here I raise my Ebenezer.” The puzzling, yet rich line comes from 1 Samuel 7:12, when the prophet Samuel took a stone and called it “Ebenezer,” which means “stone of help,” and declared, “Till now the Lord has helped us.” When one sings, “Here I raise my Ebenezer,” they’re saying, “I am marking this moment so th