There’s a little boy I’ve grown to love.  His name is Ethan.  I’ve loved him for almost all of his life (he’s almost 16 months old), yet I’ve never met him in person.  He’s the child of a friend of a friend, and he’s been fighting leukemia at St. Jude’s hospital in Memphis since he was two months old. 

I first learned about Ethan from a prayer list last spring.  I was touched by his story and started visiting the website his dad created for him to keep everyone informed of his medical conditions.  For a year, I’ve visited his page almost daily and prayed for this beautiful little boy.  I’ve cried during the tough times and praised God during the victories.  It pains me to see the extent of suffering this child has been through over his short life.  It pains me to imagine how much the parents have gone through emotionally, physically, and mentally.  However, one thing that amazes me to no end is the constant faith that his parents have demonstrated during this testing time.  I’ve laughed through the videos of Ethan’s giggles and smiles on his good days.  I have felt his parents' cherished joy of those good days.

Now, Ethan is in the worst condition yet.  Even though the leukemia is being kept at bay (as of several days ago), his non-existent immune system has accepted a life-threatening case of pneumonia.  This week has been horrifying, to say the least.  To make a very long story short, the pneumonia has not lessened.  Instead, despite being on a ventilator, it has worsened.  His vitals are falling, his oxygen saturation keeps dropping, and earlier today his lungs completely shut down.  Now, he’s on an oscillator and his vitals still are plunging.  He’s in a coma, and the urine he’s releasing is red.  Things look very bad for Ethan right now.  Yet, we still pray.  We pray for his healing and his comfort.  We pray for a miracle and we pray for his parents who are only 30 and are facing the probable loss of their only child.  There are times when I wonder if the answer to our prayers is the peace only death can provide.  Only God knows what’s best.  We can only hope for mortal life – for the sake of the parents.  But, at who’s expense?  I’m so torn right now.  He is finally in comfort, but now his parents are suffering.  Ethan’s dad, Ben, has challenged us – the prayer warriors – to never stop believing in complete healing of Ethan.  Never doubt.  Never give up.  He refuses to accept that his son may die from this disease and he doesn’t want us to accept it either.  What a struggle.

Tonight, as Ethan’s condition grows more and more dismal, I can’t get them off my mind.  I’m so sad for his parents.  I don’t want Ethan to die.  I wish he could be free of all that his body is fighting…and be mortally alive too.  I want him to have a healthy childhood and live a fruitful life dedicated to the Lord. 

As my family and I had dinner tonight at Chick-fil-A, I was so aware of how life continues to goes on.  I could barely enjoy our rare dining out experience.  People were driving here and there… eating dinner with their families… heading home… laughing at a funny movie… preparing for their weekend… oblivious to the fragility of life… while 40 miles away a mother and a father say what could be their last words to their baby boy.  It just doesn’t seem fair.  Yet, it has to be that way, right?  Life has to go on… even after a loved one dies…even though it doesn’t seem “fair”.

I haven’t had the misfortune of losing a very close loved one yet.  I’ve lost 2 first cousins and two grandparents in my lifetime; and of those, the closest to me was my paternal grandmother (both my mother’s parents were deceased before I had the chance to meet them).  But, no one with whom I have an intimate relationship with – like a parent, a husband, a child, a sibling.  This scares me because I think “oh boy… it’s coming!”  I often wonder how I’d make it through something so devastating – especially when I grieve so deeply for people I hardly know.  Then, I come to the realization that I won’t be able to make it through.  The Lord would HAVE to carry me through it.  There’s just no other way.

Please pray for Ethan and his parents every chance you get.  (www.ethanpowell.com)

Edited to Add: Ethan passed away at 11:37am Saturday, April 5, 2008.  Please keep his parents and his family in your prayers.

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Posted by mijubrifarms

Crying with you and holding you tight. Appreciate the pain. It means you have the capacity to care.

Julie

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