As Nate and I came down the stairs this morning in tandem as we always do (me first to cushion any falls), a fire was already burning in the fireplace. We’d had our first freeze last night, and the upstairs held a chill, so the fire was especially warming. A bin full of split wood was at the ready. The coffee was brewed and waiting for us.

When I went into the bathroom, yesterday’s wet, used towels had been replaced with clean ones. Folded laundry was piled high in a living room chair. Last night’s dishes, left to dry in the sink drainer (no dishwasher), had been put away. Our circle of chairs in the living room, one for each family member, was ready for today’s meals. Pastries from the bakery sat on the kitchen counter.

Today’s newspapers, Nate’s great pleasure, were waiting next to his lazy-boy chair, and the dog had already been walked. Our car had been filled with gas and was ready for our next trip into Chicago.

All of this is the work of our grown children. These days, even before we mention what is needed, they’ve spotted it and provided. Their behavior reminds me of the Scripture verse that says even before we ask, God knows what we need. (Matthew 6:8)

In recent days our kids have changed the oil in the car, run endless errands including all the grocery shopping for a crowd, and organized prayer times together. They’ve made sure all the plants that might freeze were brought into the house, washing the pots first. They’ve put together (and cleaned up) countless meals. They are solicitous of our welfare to the smallest detail, and are trouble-shooting in every category. They are showering us with blessing.

As Nate has become needy and I right along with him, we’ve flip-flopped roles with our kids. They are now the givers, and we are the receivers. Both of us are bowled over by their consistent efforts to help without taking any credit. I believe they are allowing themselves to be used as part of God’s gracious provision for us and also for each other during these days of raw emotion and painful reality. Each one has set aside a busy life as if that wasn’t stress enough, to come and hang out with us. They’ve made themselves available to work, talk, sit in silence or just be under the same roof. And all of this is taking place while they are hurting, too.

During the last 19 days, each of us has been wrenched from a familiar routine and flung into the foreign land of terminal cancer. We entered this new world kicking and screaming but have been surprised by the unnumbered blessings that have come along with us.

When in recent years have all of us been together without an agenda? There has always been a program to follow: Christmas dinners and traditions, birthday celebrations and gifts, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, the 4thof July picnic, you name it. Every family gathering follows a prescribed script from beginning to end. This time, there is no script. There are definitely gifts, but no one has had to shop or pay for them. They are words, deeds, time spent, prayers prayed.

We are living under a shower of blessing. It’s a strange time, seemingly unreal. It’s almost as if this drama is happening to some other family. In moments of the day we forget, ever so briefly, that our father/husband has been given a death sentence. And then it comes rushing back to us, bringing nausea, weakness and sadness. Yet none of us can deny that each day has its plus signs.

Today, for example, our niece Julia, her husband Drew, and their three children arrived on our door step with the intention of praying over Nate and for all of us. We didn’t serve coffee or eat cookies. We simply sat in a circle, holding hands, and prayed (and cried). The children were casually sprawled on the floor inside our circle, part of the whole event. God Almighty was in the circle, too, powerfully doing his unmistakable work inside each of us. Had Nate not been seriously ill, this extraordinary get-together would not have occurred. We were under a shower of blessing.

As the old hymn says:

There shall be showers of blessing:

This is the promise of love;

There shall be seasons refreshing,

Sent from the Savior above.

Showers of blessing,

Showers of blessing we need:

Mercy drops round us are falling,

But for the showers we plead.

I have a confession to make. Both Nate and I sleep in t-shirts. Although I have memories of frilly nighties that looked good, they all had scratchy seams. Nate remembers wearing guy-style pajamas with drawstrings and chest pockets. (We still wonder what he was supposed to keep in those pockets while sleeping.)

These days it’s tough to climb out of bed before dawn and leave our t-shirts behind, but no matter how difficult the day, we know their soothing comfort will be waiting at the end of it.

Today we had three medical tasks to accomplish. First was a blood draw, then an appointment with the head of our chemotherapy team, and lastly, radiation treatment #6. On paper it doesn’t sound like much, but pacing through it is like pushing a boulder uphill.

By mid-morning we were listening to our chemo doctor describe a study being conducted on pancreatic cancer patients. Nate had been “invited” to join this exclusive group of 15 participants. As the doctor described it, signing on for a new and controversial combination of chemo drugs would extend his life. He wouldn’t say by how much, but extending life sounded wonderful to both of us.

When he said, “There might be some extra discomfort,” I thought of our comfortable t-shirts. Nate’s life has been overloaded with discomfort during these last two weeks. Adding more didn’t sound very good. What he needed was more t-shirt time.

As we left the doctor’s office, he handed us six typed pages detailing the study, along with a signature form if we chose to participate. While Nate was getting x-rayed, I studied the study. Potential side effects filled one whole page, a list written in prose style rather than as a column, to camouflage how many there were.

Harsh words jumped from the page: “risk of bleeding, abnormal function, blood infection, inflammation, kidney failure, mouth sores, severe allergic reaction, unforeseeable side effects, potentially serious, long-lasting, permanent,” and the list continued. Also described were endless blood draws, scans and tests to monitor responses to the new drug cocktail. These translated to scores of hours rushing to appointments and waiting in doctors’ offices.

I decided to wait on presenting these findings to Nate, who was too worn to hear them just then. As we buckled our seat belts to leave the hospital, he sighed. “I’ve just had it.”

“I’m with you,” I agreed.

Finally back home eight hours after we’d left, we both napped and then enjoyed a nourishing dinner brought by our generous next-door-neighbors. As a fire crackled, we sat in a circle with our older kids and talked about the study. I read from the six pages and each person contributed an opinion.

Listening to our grown children offering excellent counsel, I was reminded of the blessing they are to Nate and me. We value their opinions and common sense. They are, well, a comfort. Nelson suggested we pray, after which the vote on the study was unanimous: don’t sign up.

We look forward to the end of radiation, possibly followed by limited traditional chemotherapy. After that it will be all about just staying home and relaxing together in comfy t-shirts.

“When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.” (Proverbs 3:24)