God's Special Gift
by: Joan McMillan



Dedication


		I would like to dedicate this book to my husband, Jerry, thanking him for his love and encouragement during difficult months of writing.  I also wish to dedicate Jeffrey's story to two very dear friends, Faye and Terry Ward, whose friendship is one of the most precious gifts God has given me.  As well, I must include a very sincere thank you to another good friend, David Downing, for his assistance in proofreading my manuscript and being so very kind and helpful to me.


Preface


	If anyone had told me two years ago that I, Joan McMillan, happily married mother of two busy, healthy little boys would be writing a book, I would never have believed them.  However, God does work in mysterious ways, and this book is something I have felt compelled to share with others.
	Our Heavenly Father gave to our home a very special gift that we were allowed to keep for over eight beautiful years, and during this span of time, He was to speak to our hearts of His great love.
	As you read this book, it is my sincere desire that you do not see Joan, the author, or Jeffrey, the little son, but Jesus Christ, the Risen Son of God, whose great love can sustain during the darkest hours.
	The contents of this book come from a mother's heart -- a mother who has been changed by what has taken place in the lives of her family.
	I have prayed for guidance daily as my pen moves across the pages, and pray that in some small way, this story may reach out to others who are going through, or some day might have to go through similar circumstances.

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths."  --  Proverbs 3: 5-6


Chapter 1

	September 7th, 1963 dawned sunny and clear.  What a lovely day for two young people to exchange their wedding vows.  How grateful we were that we had both been raised in Christian homes and had committed our own lives to Christ at a young age.  Jerry was twenty-two years old and I had just celebrated my twenty-first birthday.
	We returned home from our honeymoon in Atlantic City, N.J. and settled into the routine of married life.  Both of us held down a full-time job and were active in our church as well.  It was a busy but very happy life.  Ten months after we were married, we purchased our first home, a little two bedroom bungalow.  Friends came over to help us paint and decorate, and when we had that little house all fixed up, it really did look like the proverbial "honeymoon cottage" - all we lacked was the white picket fence!

	From the time of our marriage, I had been employed at the Psychiatric Hospital as a stenographer.  I really enjoyed my work.  Both Jerry and I had often commented on the fact that life had been very kind to both of us.  We had our love for each other and together we shared our love for Christ.  We lived in a very beautiful part of Ontario.  Brockville is located along the lovely St. Lawrence River in the heart of the Thousand Islands.

	We had many friends and life was great.  The only unhappiness we experienced in those first years of married life was the fact that after five years together, there was still no sign of having a child of our own.  This was something we both wanted very much!  In March of 1968, I was admitted to hospital for tests and minor surgery to determine whether I was physically able to conceive and carry a child.  Everything seemed to be fine and I was sent home and told "to relax".

	I continued to work at the hospital, where a part of my job was to work with the psychologists who were testing children.  Each time a blonde blue-eyed youngster came to the Clinic for testing, I would feel a little pang inside and pray that God would one day see fit to bless our home in this way.  Even as a tiny girl, when someone would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, the answer was always the same -- "just a mother!"  I played with dolls until I was a teenager, and then put them away only because I was embarrassed to be seen doing so at my age.

	In the summer of 1969, I quit my job to see if staying home was the answer.  During this year, my husband began quietly talking about the possibility of adopting a baby.  I wasn't too sure about the idea as I wanted very much to have a baby of our own.

	However, we prayed about it and in January of 1970, we attended a group meeting at our local Family and Children's Services.  During the interviews and a home study which followed, a close friendship was established with our social worker.  We were delighted to discover that she too was a Christian.  In February, Jerry and I decided to spend a short vacation in Florida with my parents.  On our return home, we anxiously awaited news about whether or not we were going to be accepted as adoptive parents.  We felt good about the situation - surely God was in control.  We had prayed earnestly about this.  Hadn't He sent us a Christian social worker?  Was this too not a part of His plan for our lives?

	In April of 1970, we received a telephone call from our social worker on a Monday at noon hour.  She informed us that we had been accepted by the agency and would soon be getting our baby daughter.  We were told to purchase articles we would be needing.  The first item I wanted to buy was the most beautiful baby carriage we could find.

	We were so excited by this news.  However, I was also experiencing other strange sensations and had a feeling that perhaps something else might be happening to us.  An appointment was arranged to see my family physician.  The following day he telephoned the news to us that we were expecting our own child.  The poor man -- I even accused him of getting my test results mixed up with someone else's.  He laughed and assured me that the medical profession was a little more reliable than that.  He said the most beautiful words I had ever heard, "Joan, you really are going to be a mommy.  Your baby is due in December."

	Can anyone imagine the joy we felt - our own baby after all the waiting and hoping.  We wished we could take our baby girl as well, as she had already begun to seem a part of us even though we'd never even seen her.  It was as though God gently pushed the door shut on our plans, and I found that rather difficult to understand because we had felt so strongly that He had been in control of this area of our lives.  However, we both knew that God knew best what direction our lives should take.

	That Tuesday evening is still very vivid in my mind.  This was the same day the doctor had given us our incredible news.  A knock came to our door and when I answered it, there stood our social worker friend.  She came for a chat and a cup of coffee.  We had already purchased a baby carriage and it was in the room that was to become the nursery.  I grabbed her by the hand and took her into the room.  Grinning at her I said, "Guess what?"  Well, I guess what I was feeling was written all over my face because she replied, "Joan, you're going to put your own little one in that carriage, aren't you?"   She took me in her arms and cried tears of joy right along with me. Together we marveled at the goodness of God.

	So many of our church friends had prayed with us for this miracle.  Never had there been a baby who was wanted more than this one.


Chapter 2

	My pregnancy went really well.  Together we attended prenatal classes at our local health unit and joyously awaited the birth of our firstborn.  How lovely it was to be invited out for an evening, and upon arrival to find myself the guest-of-honor at a baby shower.  Our friends were so generous in their gifts for our baby.

	The only dark cloud in our lives during this period of time was the fact that my precious dad had been diagnosed as having bone cancer, and we prayed constantly that God would keep us all in the hollow of His hand.

	On December 16th, 1970, Jerry was working the evening shift and so I attended the annual Sunday School Christmas program by myself.  I jokingly commented to a nurse friend of mine halfway through the program that I felt I could truly portray Mary, the mother of baby Jesus.  She realized I really was having contractions, and after timing my pains, she advised me to call Jerry to come immediately and take me to hospital.  I was so excited!!

On December 17th, 1970 at 2:10 A.M., our family physician's prediction came true.  As I looked into those wide blue eyes of my little son laying next to me on the delivery table, I felt a joy that was completely indescribable.  Precious, precious, little Jeffrey William McMillan, all seven pounds, four and a quarter ounces of him!  My heart rang out with praise to God for His goodness.  There is no miracle that compares with the miracle of a new life being born, perfectly whole.

Our birth announcement in our local newspaper read as follows:
"At this happy Christmas season, Joan and Jerry McMillan thank God for the gift of their first child, Jeffrey William, 7 lbs. 4¬ ounces, born Thursday, December 17th, 1970 at the Brockville General Hospital."
As well, we included thanks to our doctor and the wonderful nurses on the maternity floor.

	As I so much wished to enjoy the complete experience of motherhood, I discovered the thrill it is to breast feed your baby.  We brought our son home on Christmas Eve.  I'll never forget the joy in our hearts as we dressed our little one in a red Santa Suit and placed him under the Christmas tree with the rest of our gifts. Surely this was the best Christmas present in the whole wide world!

	When Jeffrey was two weeks old, I suffered a severe gall bladder attack, and two days later, another one.  The pain was so intense on both occasions I had to be rushed to hospital as I could not even get my breath.  X-rays and tests followed, and I discovered, to my dismay, that surgery was inevitable.  Oh, the tears and frustration - to have to leave the baby we'd waited so long for and had only had with us for two weeks.  However, the doctor was adamant, the surgery must be done at once.  My parents took over the care of Jeffrey and Jerry stayed at their home as well.

	I'll always remember the many, many times my dad came to visit me in hospital.  With tears in his eyes, he'd say, "Joan, it there was any way I could climb in that bed and let you go home to care for your little Jeffrey, I'd be so glad to do it".  He really meant it, and he had already spent lengthy periods in hospital due to his cancer.  I loved him so very, very much.

	My stay in hospital lasted three weeks, but even after being discharged, I had problems with my incision not healing properly, and for another three weeks had to return to hospital every other day for out-patient treatment.  Of course, through all of this, I had to give up nursing my son and I felt really badly about that.

	Jeffrey was a good baby, who quickly turned into a very loving, but headstrong, little boy.  He was an outgoing child.  He talked at a very young age, and by the time he was twenty months, he could sing many little gospel choruses such as 'How Great Thou Art' all the way through.  Jeff loved music and he loved people.  When he was about two years old, he would run to the front door when he saw our mailman coming and holler, "Hey George, come on in for a coffee".  Of course, as he became older he was a little more shy around people.

	Oh, how we enjoyed our little son!  His grandparents would frequently offer to babysit him and let us have an evening to ourselves, but we usually both felt we'd just rather have him with us .

	In March of 1972, my beloved dad went Home to be with the Lord he'd loved and served for so many years.  He had spent over four long months in hospital.  I had wanted so much for him to be around while my family grew up.  He would have been such a wonderful influence in Jeff's life.  However, God chose to take him and we could not question that.  So we put our complete trust in a loving Heavenly Father, but of course we missed "Grandpa" terribly.

Chapter 3

	When Jeff was twenty-seven months old, we all welcomed into our home another little son, Jamie Wyatt McMillan.  Now Jeff had a little brother to love, and to fight with.

	We had moved into a larger home when we discovered another baby was on the way.  Life was very busy, very full, very happy.  It seemed almost every evening, Jerry and I would thank God that we had each other and our two healthy, happy, little sons.  We enjoyed doing all the family fun things - bike rides, hikes, camping, popcorn parties, story time, sing-songs around the piano, and family church activities.  We were the type of family that was the happiest when we were all together.

	I'm so grateful now that I can look back on many, many happy memories.  I feel too many couples become so tied up in material things, they miss the simple joys in life God has given them.
They allow their children to become a burden rather than the blessing God intended them to be.

	We dedicated our babies to God when they were just a few months old.  Out of grateful hearts, we thanked God for both of them and gave them back to Him and asked for His divine guidance and direction in each of their lives.

	They grew up much too fast!  They were close.  Jeff could be rough and ready with Jamie, but don't let anyone else try it!  He was also very protective of his little brother.  Jamie copied everything Jeff did, good and bad.  Both our children were quite demonstrative in their affection to us as were we to them.  Love was always expressed in our home.  We wanted very much for the boys to grow up to be buddies as well as brothers.

	Jeff was asked to be ring bearer in two weddings, one when he was five and another when he was six.  He was so proud to be all dressed up and strutted around like a little peacock showing off his clothes to anyone who would take the time to admire him.  I must admit, we were very proud of him; he really behaved himself and acted like a little gentleman.

	From the time he was old enough to hold a pencil properly, Jeff constantly drew pictures of Jesus on the cross.  Every time we would ask him to choose which story he wanted us to read out of his Bible Story Book, he would choose the story of Jesus' crucifixion.  I have countless drawings he has done concerning this.  It was almost an obsession with him.

	It was during the summer of 1970, when I was expecting Jeff, that we met Faye and Terry Ward.  They came to Brockville as assistant pastors at our assembly.  It was instant friendship. Faye and Terry became very special to us and as our children grew, so did our friendship.  They were a second mommy and daddy to our boys, and their little girl, Robin, became 'our girl'.  They also kept Jeff for us at the time of Jamie's birth.  How we thank God for our many friends, but this precious couple in particular, were always there, in our times of sorrow as well as joy.  They would anticipate our needs long before we even expressed them.  I thank God for their genuine love and concern.

	In Kindergarten, Jeff never missed one day of school.  He was such a healthy active little boy.  In Grade 1 he may have missed one or two days, but it seemed he was almost never sick. When he was in Grade 2, in late fall his teacher mentioned she had noticed he had slowed down somewhat.  Jeff had always been an excellent student, and she felt he was acting as if he was tired.  We really didn't notice much change in him at home, except perhaps he did seem a little lethargic, but when we'd ask him how he felt, he'd say, "Just fine".

Chapter 4


	At the end of February 1978, Jeff came down with a bad cold and cough.  I doctored him myself for about a week, but he didn't seem to be getting any better, so on March 6th, I took him to be seen at the General Hospital Emergency Department.  Our family physician was on vacation, so he was examined by a doctor who was on call who gave me a prescription for an antibiotic and cough syrup and sent him home.

	The following evening, after I had put both boys to bed, I heard a noise upstairs.  I ran up and discovered Jeff was experiencing severe breathing problems.  Jamie was very ill that night with flu, so Jerry took Jeff back to be seen at the hospital.  The doctor on call immediately admitted him when he saw how sick Jeff really was.  He was given an intravenous and placed in an oxygen tent to aid his breathing and moved into the Intensive Care Unit.  When Jerry called me at home I could tell he was quite upset as he shared with me what had taken place.  When the doctor was inserting the I.V. needle, Jeff had looked up at him and said, "Well sir, this certainly is a new experience for me; I never had anything like this done to me before".  Later the doctors told us that at that particular time, Jeff's breathing passage was only about the size of a match stick..

	X-rays were taken over the next two days, and then the doctor asked to speak with us on a Thursday morning.  We sensed that what he had to tell us was serious, and went to keep our appointment with great fear and trembling. 

	He told us at that meeting that a 'huge mass' had been discovered in Jeff's chest and they were transferring him to the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario in Ottawa that same day.  We asked to be allowed to take him out ourselves, and it is a trip neither one of us will ever forget.  Jeff fell asleep between us on the front seat, his head in my lap.  His daddy was softly crying as he drove.  I sat there, woodenly, with my arms around my darling son, the most precious possession in all the world.

	However, even at that very difficult time, I felt a peace I could not understand.  I knew many people in Brockville who had already heard of our situation were on their knees asking Christ to sustain us.

	We were met in Admitting by the Chief Pediatrician who was very kind and gracious.  He told us we could stay right with Jeff, day and night.  There were lounge chairs in the children's rooms that made into single beds, and we would be allowed to stay overnight whenever we wished to do so.  What music that was to my ears!

	Our pastor and his wife and son came to Ottawa that evening, and spent time visiting with us and in prayer.  This meant so very much.

	During the following week, many tests were done, including X-rays, bone marrow tests, lumbar punctures, and a biopsy, as well as many, many blood tests.  All of these procedures were very painful and frustrating for Jeff.  It also cut his mommy and daddy to the core to have to watch these happenings.

	Friday, March 10th,  the day after Jeff's admission to the Ottawa hospital, was Jerry's birthday.  We had planned a big party, as usual, but not much celebrating was to be done this year.

	On the Saturday morning, Jeff and I were alone in Ottawa as I had felt it was better for Jerry to return home and go to work.  On that day, Jeff became very interested in talking about God and His love, and he gave his heart to the Lord in a very real and wonderful way.  A large group of doctors were later gathered around his bed, and I'll never forget what he said to them.  His little face was all wet with perspiration from all their probing and prodding, and with big blue eyes just shining, he said, "Sirs, it doesn't matter what is in my chest, because Jesus is there, and everything is going to be all right".  From that day on, whenever we came across rough times, and there were to be many, those words kept ringing in my ears.  I later heard one of the young doctors say, "I don't know what that little boy has, but it's going to see him through this.  He's a fighter."

	Another beautiful experience happened to me on that same weekend.  I knew very few people in the city of Ottawa and Jeff and I were completely on our own.  I simply bowed my head and told Christ He was our only hope, and He was my best friend.  After going to bed in my little uncomfortable cot in Jeff's room, I literally felt arms around me, and spent a good portion of that night discovering how very real our Savior can be.  Those dark, dark days as I look back, were some of the most precious days in my experience as a child of God.  I had to discover that we have to depend wholly on Christ; nothing and no one else will work.

	I remember expressing to Jerry about this time, "Honey, I don't think things will ever be the same for us again."  How true that statement was!

	The first week of Jeff's hospitalization, he would cry and cry after the technicians would take a blood sample from him.  One day I asked him why he cried so much.  Was it because the needle hurt or was he worried about something else?  He replied, "Mommy, they're taking all my blood.  I won't have any left".  I quickly  reassured him that one of God's miracles was that as soon as they took blood from his finger or arm, immediately his body produced more, and he still had lots of blood left. After that little talk, he seldom made any fuss from having his blood work done.    
	
	It is so important to question our little ones over what is bothering them.  We never know how they are interpreting something and it becomes very frightening to them,  Throughout Jeff's treatment, I tried to make it a rule to always try and find out what was worrying him, or what he was thinking about.


Chapter 5

	The following Wednesday afternoon, March 15th, I was given Jeff's diagnosis.  Faye and Terry were visiting that day - certainly that too was a part of God's plan.  Terry had hurt his hand very badly at work and was off on sick leave which allowed them to spend many hours with us in Ottawa.  I feel I can never express to them how much it meant to have someone share those terribly lonely hours with me when Jerry had to be at work.

	A few days prior to this, one of the doctors had told us there were three choices of diagnoses for Jeff.  All three were extremely serious and as he was talking, Jerry had to run to the bathroom where he was sick to his stomach.  Jeff commented, "Well, there must be something catching around here, Mommy did the same thing this morning!"  Little did he know the great heaviness in our hearts at the thought of disease in the body of one we loved so much.

	The doctor took me into a little room.  He said that ordinarily he would not have given me Jeff's diagnosis without Jerry being present, but he felt I was a strong enough person to handle this by myself.  Jeff's diagnosis was 'lymphosarcoma',  a fast-moving type of cancer affecting the lymph gland system as well as causing tumors to form and grow at a very rapid rate.  The 'mass' they had told us about in Jeff's chest was a huge tumor.  As I turned to leave his office, he said, "Mrs. McMillan, I just want you to know both my wife and I are praying for you.  My wife seems to have been given a real burden for Jeff and has been much in prayer for all of you."  Once again, our Heavenly Father let us know He was still in control.  How grateful I was, on that very difficult day, to know that even Jeff's physician at that time was a Christian doctor who, along with his medical knowledge, believed in the power of prayer.

	I left Faye and Terry to keep Jeff occupied for awhile so that I could regain my composure.  I stood at a window at the end of the corridor on the fourth floor of that Children's Hospital and quietly gazed out on a cloudy, dull March day.  The doctor had been very honest.  He did not feel there was much hope for Jeff but treatment was to be discussed with us the next day.  I returned home with Faye and Terry that evening to hold my very dear husband in my arms and break the news to him as gently as I could.  Jerry had been having a real struggle; it had been extremely difficult for him to keep his composure around Jeff, or even me for that matter.  His family meant everything to him and this was all very, very hard on him.  However, as soon as I saw his face that night, I could tell he had made his own peace with God and was now able to accept whatever might come our way.

	As I mentioned previously, we had dedicated Jeff to God as a tiny baby, but we re-dedicated him that night and placed him in God's hands.  We again thanked our Heavenly Father that He had seen fit to bless our marriage with children of our own.  Our two boys had always been very special to us, but we had to realize they are not our possessions, rather they are a gift loaned to us from God.
	
	We attended a Group Conference on Thursday, March 16th, with the staff of the Hematology-Oncology Clinic at the Ottawa Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario.  They informed us that Jeff's treatment would consist of chemotherapy as well as radiation.  The object of chemotherapy is to kill fast-growing cells because cancer cells grow very rapidly.  We were told if the treatment did not work, it would all be over very quickly for our son.  We did the only thing we could do.  We put our complete trust in God along with the treatment man had to offer our little one.

	Thank God at this particular time for friends and family who prayed for us, sharing our tears,  They really cared and kept on praying throughout many long months.  Food was constantly brought to our home, and we received many babysitting offers for Jamie who was not yet in school.  People sent an abundance of cards, gifts for Jeff, flowers and plants to brighten our days.

	One really "blue day", there came a knock at my door about mid-afternoon.  When I opened the door, Robin handed me a beautiful bouquet of carnations her mommy had purchased for me.  What a lift -- what a blessing to know friends really care!

	I also thank God for another very special person in my life -- my mom.  She was always there to lend support, to comfort, and to help in whatever way she could.  She was a real brick.  It was not easy for her to go through the cancer routine with another beloved member of her family so soon after losing dad to this dreaded disease. Jerry's mother and father came to our assistance in another way by helping us purchase a second car which we would now be needing.

	On Friday, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, Jeff's chemotherapy began and he was given large dosages of very lethal drugs intravenously.  He was a really brave little boy,  He was very sick all that night from this first treatment.

	On Tuesday, March 21st , X-rays were again taken.  While Jeff was in the X-ray Department downstairs, I was watching a talk show on television in his room called '100 Huntley Street'.  At the bottom of the screen was a telephone number anyone could call, if they had a need to talk with a counselor.  I called and requested prayer for my little boy.  The lady who prayed with me over the telephone was so very kind.  When I asked what her name was, she replied they weren't able to give out their names, but she told me her first name was Grace.  From that moment on, that dear lady counselor became to me 'God's Grace'.  She prayed that wherever Jeff was at that moment, God would touch his little body and take care of the entire situation.

	Later that afternoon, the doctors requested to talk with me.  One of the doctors drew a diagram explaining that a very large portion of the mass in Jeff's chest had entirely disappeared and only a small area of tumor remained.  All this success, and only four days after treatment had begun.  We were much encouraged and believed that the power of prayer along with medical treatment had begun the work.

	Jeff was allowed to return home for a few days, but he was emotionally drained.  We had a combined birthday party for Jamie and Daddy, as well as a 'welcome home' party for Jeff.  There was a present all wrapped up for him and a big sign on his chair.  I prepared his favorite food, but he was just too sick and discouraged to care.  He had been through more in two weeks than he had in his entire lifetime.  He talked in a really high pitched voice and whimpered constantly, like a tiny, hurt animal.  All we could do was hold him tightly in our arms and tell him how very much we all loved him, and how special he was.  We told him to always remember he was special to Jesus too.

	It was a very difficult thing for Jeff to understand.  The mommy and daddy he'd always been able to depend on for protection were now letting strangers do things to hurt him, and these people were also giving him drugs that made his tummy very sick, and leaving him with very little dignity.  I think doctors and nurses should constantly remember that children are 'little people' and command as much respect as adults.  We were very fortunate to have a super nurse in the Oncology Clinic.  Oh, how Jeff loved her:  She was so good to all the little ones and was a tower of strength to the parents as well.


Chapter 6


	At first, when Jeff's treatment had just begun, he had to take over twenty capsules a day.  Now here was a little boy, who only two months earlier had learned how to swallow even a baby aspirin.  He had to take six tablets at a time, four times a day.  Many times he would, with the help of crackers and milk, get five tablets down, only to have all of them come back up.  Then I'd have to try and invent a new game and start all over because the doctors insisted all the pills get down and stay there.

	I was the type of mother who, until the time of Jeff's illness, had never even given my boys aspirin unless it was absolutely necessary.  No one will ever know the sickening feelings that came over me, as I stood with a bottle of pills in my hand marked 'experimental drug' and had to coax my precious little one to swallow them, when everything within me screamed "throw them in the garbage".  I didn't want my son to be the one people were 'experimenting on'.

	This particular drug also caused mood changes in Jeff.  One minute he'd be laughing and playing, then suddenly he would become extremely angry over some little thing and lash out at whoever was in his way at that time.  It was so difficult to discipline him, as we had always been fairly strict.  However, we were told he really could not help these feelings that swept over him.

	Jeff was readmitted to hospital on March 26th for more chemotherapy.  I remember one evening in particular.  I had taken him down to bathe him.  We had been told the drugs would soon cause him to lose his hair.  As I brushed his soft blonde hair over and over, my heart was breaking and I hurt inside as I had never hurt before.  Of course, for Jeff's sake, I had to keep smiling and joking.  I felt a tremendous urge to simply pick my precious boy up in my arms and take him to some far off place where we could simply put our complete trust in God and wouldn't have to submit his little body to any more of their harsh treatments.  As I continued brushing his hair, once again I asked God to heal Jeff completely.  I prayed for an end to the terrible ordeal my family was going through,  It was like waking up every morning from a bad dream, only to discover that the nightmare was still very real.  Each new day I had to adapt myself once again to accepting the situation and going on with the routine of living, trying to make life as pleasant as I could for my family.  I had to leave it in God's hands; it was simply more than I could handle.

	I cannot yet understand God's wisdom in allowing bad situations to develop, especially to Christians, but I have only limited human insight.  God's word tells us in Psalm 34:19 - "Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all". I do know and have learned that Christ is always there when we need Him, and will give an extra portion of His great strength and His love to sustain us.

	Many times when Jeff was in the Children's Hospital, I would climb right into bed with him in the evenings.  The nurses would come in to check on him, grin at us as if to say, "It's O.K., we'll just look the other way," and would leave us to ourselves.  I really appreciated that -- we needed our sharing time.  Jeff would cuddle up to me as closely as he could, and we'd share lots of laughs and loving.  Often, when I'd awaken very early in the mornings, I'd feel my cuddly little son laying next to me in my cot, I.V. and all.  He had so much love to give and we both had a great need to express it to each other.

	The next drug Jeff was given the end of March was very hard on him, and an extremely bad experience for all of us.  It took the doctor a very long time to administer it through the I.V., and it burned Jeff severely.  As he writhed on the bed screaming to "please, please, Mommy, make them stop", I must admit his mommy cried as hard as he did.  I seldom let my emotions get the best of me in front of Jeff, but this was too much!  In the middle of this nightmare, a minister from an Ottawa church entered the room.  Oh how good it felt to hear a man of God offer prayer on our behalf at that time.
	Jerry had become employed at a chemical plant two years prior to Jeff's illness.  He worked twelve hour shifts.  We had been much in prayer when this job opportunity presented itself as it involved working every other weekend,  He had treasured our family worshiping together each Sabbath and felt almost guilty about giving up every other Sunday.  However, it seemed the Lord opened the door to this position and so Jerry had accepted.  We really believe now that God was in this situation.  Because of the twelve hour shifts, Jerry was able to arrange it so that we took turns driving to Ottawa with Jeff.  Because of all the extra expenses involved in our lives at this time, we were truly thankful Jerry didn't have to miss work,  I really don't feel I could have handled all the driving by myself.  The Lord says He won't give us any more than we can bear, and although some days we felt we were at our limit, His promises are true.

	There were also many times the Lord provided for us financially.  It wasn't as if we didn't have a bank account, but we never had to take money from our savings throughout the entire situation.  People would come up to us and say, "God spoke to me and I'm to give you this".  Inside the envelope or card would be exactly the amount we needed the following week for our expenses for gasoline, meals, drugs, etc.  One time in particular, we were needing two new tires for our car, and the day before our appointment, there was a cheque in the mail for $100.00, which covered the cost except for about $4.00.  God is so faithful!


Chapter 7

	In the spring of 1978, the drugs did cause Jeff's hair to fall out, but how beautifully he accepted this!  He was a little boy who had taken great pride in brushing his hair with his 'Superman' brush, but now he proudly proclaimed he looked just like 'Kojak', a bald actor on television.  Only his mommy and daddy really knew how much he was hurting inside.  When the children at school would tease him, he would quietly explain to them what had happened, and eventually the jeers eased some what.  The teachers were amazed at his acceptance of everything. Many times they commented to us how Jeff had matured beyond his years and was handling numerous problems by himself.  However, many, many times after I would drive him to school, I would return home and cry and cry for my brave little soldier.  As time went by, I could see how Jeff too was gaining strength from his faith in God.  When he'd say his prayers at night, he would in such a sweet, simple way ask Jesus to please help him.

	Easter Sunday is a day that stands out in my mind.  We had gone to church in the morning and then Mom, Faye, Terry, and Robin joined us for dinner and the afternoon.  As we sat visiting in the living room listening to gospel music on the stereo, Jeff would come and lay his head in my lap.  When he'd get up to go and play, my lap would be completely covered with a coating of soft, little, blonde hairs.

	That evening, after the others had gone to church, and I had stayed home to settle the boys in bed as Jeff seemed very tired, I knelt by the love seat.  In my hands I held the little brown patent leather shoes Jeff had worn the previous fall when he was ring bearer, and I just cried and cried.  It seemed the sobs were never going to stop.  Jeff losing his hair was a very traumatic thing for me to cope with; I did not want his looks to change - I didn't want him to be hurt any more!

	The following Sunday morning, Jeff wore the new little red baseball cap we'd bought him to Sunday school.  Jamie had a new blue one.  It was so comical the next Sunday morning, to stand at the back of the auditorium and see four or five little red baseball caps on tiny heads.  To the church kids, Jeff was quickly becoming their hero.  It took a few days for Jeff's hair to come out completely, and in that time span, it was in his food, all over his pillow, in his mouth and his ears.  Jamie remarked one day, "You can't even eat in this house any more with all this fluff in the air!"  We had all been trying to spare Jeff's feelings about his 'new look' but once again, Jamie's childlike honesty gave us all, especially Jeff, a hearty laugh and greatly eased the tension. Also, I might add that Jamie was the one and only person who got away with referring to his brother as 'skinhead'.

	Matthew 10:30 reads, "But the very hairs of your head are all numbered".  I used to tease Jeff about this scripture when he'd wake up each day with less hair than he'd had when he went to bed the night before.  We'd laugh at how it must be keeping Jesus "busy to keep track", and yet what a good feeling it gave us to know God cared enough about us that He did know how many hairs we all had, including Jeff.  It was so important to try and keep a sense of humor about things.  We had always been a family who laughed a lot and we tried desperately to hang on to this.

	Treatments continued and we were so grateful that Jeff was kept from many of the side effects of the drugs such as nausea, fever, and infections.  He became extremely ill from one of the drugs, which we felt was a good average considering he was on a total of eight different drugs.  A few hours after this one particular drug was administered to him, he would vomit constantly for twelve hours.  He was such a nice boy - he would apologize profusely if he didn't make it to the bathroom in time or if he was sick on his bedding.  It really upset him to cause us trouble in any way.

	Jeff commented once on the fact that if he weren't sick, our family would be a lot happier, and made a remark to the effect that we would really be better off without him.  I quickly reassured him that we were a family who stuck together no matter what, and that I knew if it had been me who was sick instead of him, I could count on his support.  He quickly agreed and seemed to accept this answer.

	Food was a constant source of pleasure to Jeff.  He loved to go to restaurants, especially McDonald's.  He could clean off a 'Big Mac' faster than the rest of us, and then grin as he coaxed for more.  It was great to see him enjoy his food.  The doctors warned us many times after treating him with a new drug that he might become very ill.  However, he'd come home, eat an enormous supper, go to bed and sleep the night through.  Then early in the morning, he'd be shaking me awake, saying, "Hey, Mom, I'm starved.  How about some bacon and eggs?"  I thank God for His goodness in this respect and am simple enough in my faith to believe that this too was an answer to our prayers.

	Jeff had to have many lumbar punctures when they would remove fluid from his spine and replace it with a drug to destroy any cancerous cells that might be accumulating in the brain.  He was awake for these spinal taps, and had to curl up into a little ball for the doctors to complete their task.  When he'd say his prayers the night before this treatment, he'd say, "Jesus, please make tomorrow another tickle",  and when the time came for the treatment to take place, he would climb up on the table, trusting Jesus with all his heart.  Afterwards, he would come out to the waiting room to his very anxious mommy and daddy, who were not allowed to be with him for this treatment.  He'd usually be all smiles.  One of the other mothers had told me it took four staff members to hold her little one down every time he had a lumbar puncture.  The doctors themselves admitted it was a very painful procedure.  Jeff confided to me that it really helped to hold his favorite nurse's hand while he went through this "cause she's almost as good at it as mommy is".

	One day after Jeff had been examined by the doctors, he jumped off the examining table and ran over to his "favorite nurse" and climbed up on her lap.  It made me so happy to see him do this because I realized he was beginning to trust the staff more.  Jeff was quite a shy boy, and making new friends didn't come easily to him, but once he was your friend, he was your friend for life. He tried so hard to be good; it would have been so much more difficult for us to accept his treatments if it were not for his attitude.  On the days we were to travel to Ottawa, Jeff would be the first one to hop in the car all smiles because he was looking forward to seeing his friends at the Clinic.  I must confess I never looked forward to it.

Chapter 8

	We were very grateful that although late winter in Ontario is so unpredictable, we awoke to bright, sunny, clear skies almost every day we had to make the trip to Ottawa,  How wonderful that as a family, we could bow our heads together right in our car and ask for our Heavenly Father's protection for that day.

	In April, Jeff was again hospitalized for two weeks of chemotherapy plus he was to have ten radiation treatments,  He was admitted to the Children's Hospital and then driven to the Ottawa Civic Hospital each day in the hospital van to receive the radiation.  He was a little disturbed when the doctors had to draw diagrams in green ink on his chest and neck to show where to treat him.  That also meant he could not get his chest or neck area wet, even when in his bath.  He would also have to be protected from the sun for many months to come.

	At this point in time, Jeff's veins were so used up, the staff had tremendous difficulty in getting the I.V. started. They decided to start an intravenous through which they would administer the drug for chemotherapy one day, then early the following morning they would once again administer this medication.  Then they would remove the needle and take him for his radiation treatment.  That meant that every other night he could sleep without the I.V.

	Although I felt having the radiation might frighten him, he got really excited when he saw all the equipment.  Jeff was the type of boy who asked many questions, and in fact, he could name many of the drugs I found difficult even to pronounce. When his radiation treatments were finished, the nurses at the Civic told me they were really going to miss his visits.  They said he always gave them all a good laugh or two.

	I'll never be able to forget the look on Jeff's dear little face when the nurse would roll the I.V. pole and leave it beside his bed.  He knew what had to happen over and over again. I would try and make a little game of it when things got really rough for him.  I would buy a little toy and wrap it in gaily colored paper, and tell him if he'd try to hold really still for the technician, mommy had something very special for her 'special boy'.  Many times it took five or six attempts before the needle  would finally be inserted into the vein.  It was so hard to hold my own child down in the bed to try to aid the staff in their miserable tasks.  After a few months, I got to the place where it was almost impossible for me to do this because of the hurt look on Jeff's face, as if I were betraying him or something.

	Jeff was really very good about getting the needles, but after two or three attempts, he would sometimes become very frustrated and start to scream.  Then I would have to leave the room and tell him I'd return when things settled down, Many, many times I have walked up and down outside his room, actually feeling the pain he was also going through.  I'd have given anything if they could have done it to me instead of him.  I couldn't really blame him for crying because I knew how much it must hurt.

	Jeff often wrote us little notes when we'd be away from him for a little while.  One day, when we returned from lunch, he handed us a note he'd written on one of the yellow menus.  He'd written:

'Dear Mom and Dad,

I love you more than anything in the hole
world and thank you for praying for me.
Your son,
Jeffrey.'

When I turned the card over, he had printed "Out of Order", which meant his I.V. had been started and now it was difficult for him to write any more.

	Often, his little arm would become very swollen and that meant fluid had leaked into the tissues rather than into the bloodstream.  The I.V. had infiltrated.  When a vein becomes brittle it may leak, or sometimes the needle would touch the wall of the vein or even penetrate it.  This meant the needle had to pulled out and be re-inserted.  I honestly think this was the hardest part of the whole ordeal for Jeff -- those terrible I.V. needles that wouldn't go in:  He was constantly watching his arm for swelling and would check the drip to make sure the I.V. was working properly.  He'd ask us over and over if it looked O.K. to us.

	Following this two week treatment schedule, we still had to commute to Ottawa daily for treatment and constant blood checks.  They watched his blood count closely, because chemotherapy causes the white cell count to drop, and it if becomes too low, it meant Jeff was very much more susceptible to infection.

	When we attended Children's Hospital on an out-patient basis, we followed a pattern.  Firstly, we went to the front desk for forms we had to sign giving the doctors permission to give Jeff the treatment.  It made me very uneasy each time I signed one of these forms.  I never did know if I was doing the right thing for my son, but both Jerry and I felt we must follow the medical staff's advice.

	The next step in the procedure was to take him upstairs to the Blood Clinic where they would prick his finger and suck through four different straw-type tubes until they had a sufficient amount of blood for testing.  Jeff hated to have his blood taken this way.  He said it hurt far more than to have it taken from his arm, but beg as he would, they had to use his fingers because his veins had to be saved for the treatments.  Then we would have a long wait while the results were tabulated and then phoned down to the Oncology Clinic.  Next on the agenda was weighing Jeff and even his height was checked.  If his blood count was high enough that day, the next part of our 'visit' was to help hold him for his chemotherapy.

	He was so good most days.  He'd sit up on the table and say to the nurse, "Pat, don't you think this looks like a good vein to try today?"  One day she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "You know, Joan, this wouldn't be so hard on all of us if he wasn't so good!"  All of these procedures plus the three hours traveling time became very tiring for all of us, particularly Jeff. This schedule continued for many weeks; sometimes we went to Ottawa five or six times a week.  Eventually Jeff's treatment would follow a cycle which would have to be repeated over and over, but the initial treatment had to be strictly adhered to and extremely intense.

	One day, when we made our daily visit to the Clinic, Jeff's special nurse was waiting for him.  She said, "Hey there fella, how would you like a chance to take my blood today?"  I could not believe my ears!  She had all the equipment spread out on a tray ready for him.  He thought it was a great idea!  Well, at this point in time, my mom made a beeline for the nearest exit. I felt much the same way as she did, but must admit my curiosity got the best of me.  It was amazing to watch this beautiful lady sit there and tell Jeff to "go ahead" with the procedure which included sucking a total of three tubes of blood from her finger. 

	What do you think Jeff did?  With an enormous grin on his face, poking over and over at her finger, he was singing, "Suck your blood, suck your blood!"  When I expressed my amazement at her dedication going far beyond the call of duty, she simply answered me by saying, "Joan, he really needed to do that.  After all, he has to sit there and let us do it to him over and over again.  He's earned it."  That particular nurse is one person I will remember with great affection the rest of my life. 

	If I am going to be truly honest about my feelings at that time, I must confess I found it extremely frightening to see the change that had taken place in my son.  A year earlier Jeff would not have deliberately hurt someone that way.  Where had my sensitive little son gone -- the boy who couldn't stand to see even an animal hurt?  I wondered if going through the anguish of the treatments was going to permanently affect Jeff's personality.  I did not want him to change -- I liked him the way he was and already I could see so very many changes. We had tried so hard to raise our boys to be good and obedient, and it seemed that within a few short months, all that we had worked so hard to accomplish, was being destroyed, and there was nothing we could do about it.


Chapter 9


	In May, Jeff developed a high fever and it was feared he had pneumonia and so late one Thursday evening, Jerry took him back to hospital in Ottawa.  Pneumonia was ruled out on examination, but as his blood count was extremely low, he was given a blood transfusion plus antibiotics intravenously.  Jeff was always very frightened of the blood transfusions.  His veins were so used up at this point the I.V.'s would not keep on working and had to be restarted many, many times.  Oh, how Jeff hated this!

	This was a really rough time for all of us.  Jeff became so upset emotionally that he broke out in hives, which in turn changed into huge welts whenever a doctor or nurse so much as entered his room.  He looked like a burn case.  A short time after they would leave me alone with him, the marks would completely disappear, only to surface once more when anyone from the medical staff would reappear.  Also, at this time Jeff was in Isolation which always made him very unhappy, as anyone coming into his room had to wear a gown and mask.

	Finally, one Saturday evening at suppertime, the I.V. clogged again and stopped working.  I had noticed the nurse checking it repeatedly all afternoon and figured there were problems AGAIN.  Jeff's little face was a picture of total despair and defeat.  The I.V. technician was summoned and she tried for about twenty minutes to get the needle back in.  As she probed and probed to find a vein Jeff began to scream and scream.  Finally, he had had all he could take and he was begging me with his eyes to please help him.  I had had all I could take too!!  I charged out to the desk and demanded that they leave him alone for awhile.  The I.V. technician was also in tears.  She came to me outside Jeff's room, pulled up the back of her blouse and asked me to feel her back.  The perspiration was literally running in streams off her back and she said, "Joan, you don't have any idea how hard it is on me to have to hurt Jeff like this."  She was an excellent technician and was a good friend to Jeff.  It certainly wasn't her fault.  In fact, she had always been able to insert the needle when others couldn't.  Jeff's veins were just too used up from all his treatments.

	I made such a fuss at the desk, they finally called the doctor at home, and eventually he gave the choice of I.V. again or three intramuscular shots every day to Jeff.  "Huh, some choice eh?" was Jeff's reply to this suggestion.  However, he decided on the three injections per day rather than the dreaded intravenous.  I really don't know which was worse, as they even gave him these shots in the top front part of his thigh.  In the middle of the night, when it seemed to me he'd just fallen asleep, I'd hear the swish of the door and knew within moments my poor little darling would be subjected to more hurt and frustration.  I'd hear the nurse say, "Now lay still Jeff.  You know this has to be done."  Sure he knew, but he also was only seven years old, and a life of needles was just no fun.  He'd even whimper in his sleep like a little mistreated puppy because he never knew when someone else would be in to hurt him.   It is a terrible feeling to be in a room with your own child, day after day, and not have any authority over what is done to him.

	One night in particular, my mother had come to Ottawa with me and she was hurting inside for Jeff as much as I was.  It was about 3:00 A.M. and a nurse had come in, awakened Jeff abruptly from a sound sleep, and jammed a needle in the front part of his thigh.  The moment Jeff's scream rang out, mom ran from the room she'd been given to sleep in, and I'll never forget the look in her eyes.  It was the look of a wounded animal.  Grandmas hurt very deeply too.  We both felt completely helpless.

	Mother's Day 1978 -- another day that stands out in my mind.  Jamie, Mom, Jerry, and I shared a pizza in Jeff's hospital room.  He was in Isolation which meant we all had to wear gowns and masks.  What a day!  We tried to appear happy for Jeff's sake, but were becoming so weary physically and emotionally, we could hardly think straight any more.  Jeff had made me a little gift, a lovely purple flower in a little vase.  He had also prepared a card with another "love note".  I'll always remember how over and over he would say, "Mommy, know how much I love you? Higher than the highest cloud and wider than the widest ocean!"

	At this point in time, I got on the scales and discovered I had lost thirty-two pounds.  Tea and digestive cookies were my main diet.  Food just didn't taste right to me; I couldn't seem to swallow past the lump in my throat.  Jeff made quite a few comments to the effect that he did not especially like to have a "skinny mommy".

	Jeff hated it when he was in Isolation as he was confined to his room and wasn't able to go to the play room.  They had all kinds of toys and games and crafts there; even an old-fashioned switchboard all set up for the children to enjoy.  They could paint or model with clay.  Volunteers operated a lovely library and there were many parties and films for the kids, but when you were in Isolation, you didn't get in on any of the fun.  Also, I think the children felt safer in the play room, because no one gave medicine, needles, or blood tests in there. The lady in charge of the play room was a very lovely person and she would come daily to Jeff's Isolation room with toys, games, etc.  She even put up a basketball hoop over his door and hung many brightly colored pictures and mobiles to make his room more cheery.  I shared many talks with this special lady.  In fact, the day I had been given Jeff's diagnosis, she had opened up the play room for me to go in and collect my thoughts in private, and she also shared with me that day.  It really was a beautiful hospital with many dedicated staff who really did care about others.

	Another thing Jeff did not like about Isolation was the fact that everyone looked different with masks on.  He said to me once, "Mommy, I hate it when I can't see your smile".  Now, I must admit, after hearing that, there were many times I cheated and when no one was around, I would take the mask off so Jeff would be happier.  He thought this was a great joke -- mommy was playing tricks on the doctors.

	Jeff loved a rocking chair and so we manipulated until we found one for him.  He'd sit right on the borderline of his room and the hall.  If he couldn't get in on the action, he certainly intended to get as close to it as possible.  Often he'd sit there with his I.V. pole attached, and he'd hand out 'speeding tickets' to tease the nurses.

	One evening, while he was still in Isolation, it was injection time again, and he had simply had all he could take.  He screamed, and for the first time in his treatment, he ran away from the nurse who was trying to give him the shot.  I could not bring myself to help them hold him.  Finally, I ran from the room, fighting hysteria.  I even felt like clobbering someone myself.  It was just too much to bear!  I felt a great need to lash out at anyone or anything.  I sobbed and sobbed uncontrollably.  Running towards the end of the corridor, I looked out on the cold, dark city of Ottawa.  I felt so very lonely, so terrified! I couldn't even seem to get my breath.  Right then, I must confess, I did not even feel I could pray and ask God for help.

	A student nurse came up and put her arm around me.  She tried to console me, telling me everything was going to be all right.  I felt like snapping at her, "No, everything is not all right.  My little boy may die, and he isn't even having any joy in life at this moment.  It just isn't fair.  Why don't you all just leave him alone?"  She seemed so very young  -- what did she know about problems?  God forgive me, but that night I found it almost impossible to be nice to anyone.  They kept hurting and hurting my little one, and I could not do one thing about it.  Also, I missed the rest of my family so much.  Both Jeff and I were together, but also lonely.  I also knew Jeff's prognosis was very poor, even with the treatment, and it just didn't seem worth all the heartache.  What if he went through all of this for nothing?  I had seen so many of the other children suffering from cancer die.  I really hit bottom that night.

	Jeff also became very angry.  He lashed out at me when I returned to his room, and together we cried as I tried to explain to him how much it hurt me to see him so upset.  It got so he would not even talk to the medical staff, except to say, "When can I go home?" .

	A couple of days later, when I returned from lunch in the cafeteria (more cookies and tea), I discovered Jeff had dumped talcum powder in every corner of the room he could reach - even in the goldfish bowl.  Jeff was not, and had never been, a child who was deliberately naughty like that, and when I asked him why he'd done it, he shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Well, I figure maybe if I'm bad enough, they'll have to kick me out of here".  He was desperate enough at this point to try anything to be discharged from hospital.

	I felt it was time I took a walk to try and unravel my thoughts.  I went outside and walked and walked as the tears flowed freely.  Finally, I went and sat in the car in the parking lot and poured out my heart to God.  When I glanced in the back seat, I noticed Jeff's 'Charlie Brown' pillow case.  Somehow I felt that perhaps something from home might help his loneliness at this time and I took it back to his room with me.  He greeted me with a smile, the first in a long time, when he saw his pillow, and it really did help immensely to cheer him up.

	Jeff's temperature continued to fluctuate.  The doctors told him he could not go home until it stabilized.  He would constantly be feeling his forehead and asked me repeatedly to do the same and would ask over and over, "Am I getting hot again Mommy?"  Finally, I literally begged the doctors to please let me take him home and see if tender loving care and being more relaxed might work wonders.  I realized that as long as Jeff was as emotionally upset as he was in hospital, it would take a long time to bring him out of it.  I promised I could keep charts recording his temperature.  After much coaxing, and I might add almost threatening on my part, they agreed to allow us to bring him home over a long weekend.  Jerry was working that particular Saturday, unfortunately, and when I telephoned to inform him I was going to bring our boy home, he nearly jumped for joy.  We found one of the most difficult things we had to cope with concerning Jeff's illness, was the fact that as a family we had to almost constantly be separated from one another.  We could hardly stand that!

	It was a beautiful, bright, sunny Saturday in May.  I stopped the car at a little private beach along the Ottawa river just to let Jeff feel God's fresh breezes and sunshine on his little face.  Oh the joy he was feeling - the beautiful smile on his face - he was so delighted to be going home!  He wanted some ice cream and so we stopped at The Dairy Queen near home and he ordered a large chocolate sundae.  He devoured it in no time at all - we hadn't been able to get him to eat anything in the hospital, and I just knew that we had made the right decision in insisting he be allowed home, at least for a few days.

	The doctor telephoned me the next morning to see how he was doing, and I was delighted to tell her that at that very moment, he was out in the family room rolling on the rug with Jamie having a great time.  It was somehow imperative to me that Jeff be happy.  Within a couple of days his temperature was normal and he was eating much better.

	X-rays in May were normal and his blood count continued to climb.  It was so good to watch him help his daddy plant the garden and our family enjoyed many car rides, bike rides, hikes, and picnics, and especially we enjoyed to be once again able to worship together with our church family.

Chapter 10


	We celebrated anniversary services in our assembly, Highway Temple, in June.  Jeff stood along with the other children in the Junior Choir and sang his little heart out. I must admit, he certainly stood out in a crowd with his little bald head.  I was very thankful he didn't seem too self-conscious about it.  It didn't seem to deter him from continuing to be a part of all the activities he enjoyed so much.  But then, he'd always been a very determined child.  I guess the Lord knew he was going to need a lot of determination and courage.

	Later that Sunday evening, when the altar call was given, Jeff put his hand up in response to the invitation.  I was playing the organ that night, and he quietly came up to me and asked if it was all right if he went forward.  I questioned him regarding the fact that he'd already given his life to Christ at the hospital a couple of months earlier,  He replied, "Yes, I did Mommy, but I need to let the people in Highway Temple know I really meant it".  Oh, how proud I was as he walked across the front of the church and knelt at the altar, needing his friends to see an outward demonstration of his consecration to God.  Many of the children, especially those in the choir, were very broken that night and shed many tears.  I trust God did a work in different lives that evening.

	The speaker for our anniversary services that weekend was Reverend Samuel Buick.  Eight years earlier, when I was pregnant with Jeff, Reverend Buick had been the guest speaker.  He had
come to me at the organ that June evening of 1970, and had laid hands on me as he prayed God would bless the child I was carrying and always keep it in His care.  It was special to me that it was under this same man's ministry, Jeff would, eight years later, dedicate his life to Christ.

	We had a beautiful holiday in July at our church camp at Cobourg, Ontario.  The children had their own program at the 'Kid's Tabernacle' and Jeff gave a very sweet testimony one night, telling the children what had happened to him and thanking God for His help. He didn't know his mommy was sitting at the back listening to his every word.  He read the Bible one night and sang with two other little boys in a trio another.  He looked the picture of health and bounced through each new day.

	While we were at camp, there was a 'mini tornado' which was extremely frightening and there was much damage done.  Our travel trailer rocked from side to side.  But how it thrilled our hearts to hear our son cry out to God as the storm was in full fury to "Stop - in Jesus' Name!".  Within moments, all was peaceful.

	Jeff had attended a birthday party for one of his Brockville friends and in his rush to come and show us the prizes he'd won, he took an awful tumble off his bike,  He came to us bleeding profusely.  We had been warned by the doctors before we left on vacation that it was probable because of his blood condition, that wounds would not heal quickly, but by the next day, scars had begun forming and we thanked God for His goodness once again.

	We also enjoyed a few camping weekends that summer in our travel trailer doing all the things the boys enjoyed most.  They liked nothing better than to sit and roast wieners and marshmallows around a campfire.  For the first time in months, Jerry and I found ourselves able to relax a bit.  We spent a couple of days at a motor inn that Jeff loved because of the large indoor pool and also took the boys to Ontario Place in Toronto.  It was just so good to be able to be together as a family without anyone else looking on, especially doctors and nurses.  I don't mean to sound down on the medical staff.  They were marvelous people, and many nights I watched as one of Jeff's nurses would even come in and kiss him goodnight.  They just had a miserable job that had to be done.

	In late August, we again continued with the cycle of Jeff's chemotherapy treatments.  A family friend had made Jeff a little red "Sesame Street" cushion, and when the technicians had a hard time finding a vein, we would lay his head on this cushion and sometimes it helped him to relax a bit more and the needle would find its right place.  Therefore, the red cushion became 'the magic cushion'.  One day we were walking into the Clinic and I realized we had forgotten the cushion in the car.  I asked Jeff if he wanted me to go and get it.  He looked me straight in the eye, as only Jeff could, and said, "Mommy, who needs a magic cushion when they have the Lord Jesus Christ?"    Who indeed!

	When we were discussing a family friend and board member in our church who was facing death from cancer, Jeff said, "Well, why are you so sad?  Being in heaven with Jesus is certainly better than anything else!".  Another evening the boys were getting into their pajamas when Jamie blurted out, "Mommy, what would we ever do if Jeffy died?"  Jeff overheard him and replied, "Now Jamie, don't you worry about me."  However, about an hour later, my son came up to me in the family room, put his two little arms tightly around my neck and whispered, "But Mommy, you're not to worry, ever.  I'd really rather be in heaven with Jesus than anywhere else." Frequently, when Jeff spoke of Jesus, he would reiterate that "being with Jesus is better than anything else".  During my devotions, I found the scripture in Philippians, Chapter 1, Verse 23,  where the Apostle Paul makes the statement, "For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better".

	When our family friend did pass away, Jerry and I went to the Funeral Home to be with the family for a short time.  When we returned home, we were sitting quietly in the family room with the boys.  I wasn't saying much, but was deep in thought when suddenly I felt a little boy's hands laying on my knees.  I looked down into Jamie's sweet little face as he said, "Mommy, don't you worry about anything; you know people are praying".  It's so beautiful when the love a family shares is so deep, you know what another is even thinking.  Here was my little four year old son reassuring me when I needed it very much.  Oh, how I loved those precious boys and Jerry:

	In a message one Sunday morning, our dear pastor quoted a motto he has in his home which reads "Worry doesn't solve the problems of tomorrow, but it robs me of the strength to meet today".  I really did try to live by that rule.

	In October of 1978, while driving home from a treatment, I had to break the news to Jeff that another little friend of his from the Clinic, a little girl of seven, had died the day before.  I told him as gently as I could.  He looked over at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Oh Mommy, I sure hope Doris knew the Lord as her Savior."  I assured him that I believed Jesus loved little ones very much and that He would always take very good care of his little friend.  He was extremely quiet for a long time.  Then looking over at me with tears brimming from his eyes, he said, "Oh Mommy, I hope her Mommy knows God too, because she's sure going to need Him now, more than ever before".  Sometimes I found his thinking for a little boy of seven very profound.  When he would lay his dear little head against me, I would feel an overwhelming love for this child of mine.

Chapter 11

	About the same time Jeff lost his hair, his baby teeth also started to come out.  He'd grin his little toothless smile and say, "Wow, it's bad enough when a kid loses his teeth, but when your hair falls out at the same time, you're really in big trouble!"  Then he'd laugh and run outside to play. I found little events that are special times for any mother became very emotional for me.  For instance, the night Jeff lost his first baby tooth, I was getting the "Tooth Fairy's" money ready to put under his pillow, and I simply stood with that little tooth in my hand and cried and cried.  He seemed so little to have to face so much.

	Jerry's theme song during the long months became the words of a gospel chorus:
 "Learning to Lean, Learning to Lean, 
I'm Learning to Lean on Jesus, 
Finding More Power Than I've Ever Dreamed, 
I'm Learning to Lean on Jesus".  
In fact, he had a red button with these words on it fastened to the sun visor in the car.  We also found our gospel tapes to be a great comfort as we enjoyed them during our many long hours traveling to and from Ottawa.

	By late fall, Jeff's hair had grown back in and it was blonde and he had beautiful curls.  He wasn't so sure he liked having curls, but his mommy sure did.  I must admit I was just happy and thankful he had hair at all!

	About this time, we could see Jeff was needing to be disciplined.  It had been difficult not to spoil him, but we felt the time had come when we had to consistently crack down on him.  We had always been fairly strict with the boys, but at the same time, always let them know how much we loved them and explained why we had to discipline them.  We tried at first depriving him of things he liked most, for instance, his bike. Unfortunately this tactic didn't work and we hated the thought of physical punishment because of the mental and physical torture his treatments caused. However, one night after supper Jeff really was making everyone very miserable with his misbehaving.  What was needed was a good old-fashioned spanking.  As much as we dreaded the thought of it, Jerry felt the time had come for action.  He took Jeff up to his bedroom and sat down and had a long talk with him. I have never once seen my husband strap one of our children in anger.  He always discusses the problem with them thoroughly and then doles out the punishment as he sees fit.  After he spanks them, he always has a word of prayer with them.  Believe me, I don't think they ever feel much like praying about then. When Jeff's punishment was over, he was left in his room to think about how  he'd been behaving.

	Later that same evening, I heard sounds coming from the living room, and when I looked in, there sat Jerry with Jeff on his lap, and it was his daddy, not Jeff, who was sobbing.  He told me later it was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do in his life.

	In December we had our usual Christmas birthday party for our 'Christmas Boy'.  He was allowed to choose the friends he wanted and pick out the menu.  So it turned out to be a pizza party with a big cake shaped like an eight with Santa and his reindeer at the North Pole right in the center.  He was so excited and had such a good time.  He came to me a few days later as we were looking at slides of his party, and he said, "Mommy, thanks for the terrific party.  You won't need to have one for me next year."  I felt like someone had kicked me in the pit of my stomach. However, as I look back, it seems as though God, through Jeff himself, had begun to prepare me for what was to come.

	Around the same time as Jeff's party, we were having a family dinner out in a restaurant.  The Christmas tree lights were twinkling gaily and there was that special feeling in the air.  Jerry and I looked at each other and decided it was the right moment to share our little secret with the boys.  Jerry told them he had something very special to share with them, and they became quiet.  Then Jerry announced that if all went well, mommy was expecting a new baby that was to arrive the next summer.  Jeff took my hand between his own and pressed both our hands together on his cheek and said excitedly, "There sure isn't any present I'd rather have than that".  Then he proceeded to tell us he thought Nicholas was a nice name.  We had all decided the baby would be another boy because that was what God always gave to the 'McMillans'.  Jamie wasn't so sure it was a good idea at all.  Finally, we got out of him the fact that he thought we might not need him any more because we'd need his room for the new baby. When we reassured him that we certainly didn't intend to replace him - he was much too special for that!- he came around to the idea and decided maybe it would be nice to have another brother. Little Jamie has been such a blessing to us through all the hard times, I don't know what we'd have done without him.  I continually thank God for Jamie and his sunny, warm little ways.

	We left the restaurant and went across the street to a shopping mall.  The boys went to talk with Santa.  I noticed Santa having a good chuckle, and when the boys returned, I asked Jeff what was so funny.  He said, "Oh, I just asked Santa, guess who's pregnant?  MY MOM!".   I think perhaps my face turned a fast shade of red because Santa waved and laughed.  Our son had a greater command of the English language than we had realized.

	However, our new baby was not meant to be.  A couple of days before Christmas, I was hospitalized and lost our 'little Nicholas'.  We were so sad.  Why was God shutting another door?
                               
	I must admit I was beginning to feel a little like Job. I am referring to a man in God's word in the book of Job who suffered many afflictions and trials, but who steadfastly held on to his faith in his God.  Jeff was brokenhearted and sat on his daddy's knee and asked if mommy was having any pain and whether she had an I.V.  As we had always been completely honest with our sons, Jerry answered in the affirmative on both accounts. Tears coursed down Jeff's cheeks as he replied, "Oh Daddy, I wish it could be me instead of mommy 'cause I'm used to these things". That's the kind of love no amount of money could ever buy.  I feel blessed to have had a share in it.  Nothing on earth can ever take that away from me.

	I was discharged home in time for Christmas, but it remains a bit blurred in my mind.  It was to be our last Christmas together and I'm very sorry not to be able to remember it better. On my return home from the hospital, there was a beautiful orchid corsage waiting for me.  Our church family had remembered me once more in such a lovely way.  God bless them.  The following day I attended church with my family and played the piano for the Junior Choir to sing their Christmas music.

	On Christmas Eve we gave Jeff his first good Bible.  He was so proud of it!  He read the Christmas story to us and then kept right on reading, chapter after chapter

	In Sunday School one morning, Jeff had arrived late for class.  As he entered the room, the other boys clapped their hands.  The teacher proceeded to tell Jeff that the boys were drawing pictures of a miracle that had taken place in the Bible. Jeff held his Bible up in the air and announced, "I have my miracle right here!".   His Sunday School teacher has told me since that it was an honor to have Jeff in his class and that made me feel very proud.

	I have not wished to make Jeff out to be a saint, by any means.  He was just a normal little boy and had temper tantrums and became frustrated when things went wrong.  He trusted God with all his heart, however, and tried his very best to serve Him the best way he could.
                               
Chapter 12
	 
	We had to return to the Clinic between Christmas and New Years for yet another lumbar puncture.  I was still  extremely weak, but felt we needed to go together as a family. Jeff became very ill in the car following his treatment and it was a long, dreary drive home.  And so the treatments continued.  They were to carry on for at least another two or three years, depending on Jeff's progress.

		On New Year's Eve, we attended what is called a 'Watch Night Service' at our church.  After the service, a supper was served in the church basement and we took the boys along with us.  Did they ever have a good time!  Oh, how they loved to be included in outings like that.  They thought it was very special to stay up until past midnight. When the midnight hour arrived, we hugged and kissed each other and Jeff jumped high in the air.  Of course, Jamie copied him.  When we arrived back home, we all gathered together in Jeff's bedroom and knelt by his bed while his daddy prayed that 1979 would be a better year for our family, and that God would see us through whatever might come our way.  Once again, we committed all our lives to His care and keeping.  What a peace that gives to a family!  We tucked two very tired, but happy, little fellows in their beds that night.

	In 1979, at the United Nations, Canada supported the resolution to make this the 'International Year of the Child', and the government set up a commission to promote children's programs. The commission aimed to further the rights, interests, and well-being of all Canadian children and to encourage "the celebration of the joy of childhood and the very special place that children have in society".  I too was determined that although our son had cancer, he was not going to lose any more of the "joy of childhood" than was absolutely necessary.  I made up my mind to let Jeff live as normal a life as was possible under the circumstances.  Sometimes this proved more difficult than I had anticipated.

	When his blood count was low and he couldn't visit and play with his friends, he would accuse mommy of "being mean".  When a neighbor would invite him to "come in and play" and he would run home to ask permission, sometimes I would have to say, "No, honey, I'm sorry, but you can't go there today".  He would become very upset because he just didn't understand his mommy had to say no for his own protection and I don't think he ever knew how much I hurt too when things like this would happen.  Often, I would relate this situation to how our Heavenly Father must feel, when we, as His children, ask for things and we feel hurt and angry when His answer must be "No my child''.  Many times, we also later discover it really was for our own good.

	One winter Sunday afternoon, we were out for a drive in the country.  Jeff suddenly asked, "Is Nicholas in heaven with Jesus?".  As we all discussed this together, we felt that our baby was now safe with Jesus.  Jerry and I believe that from the moment of conception, a baby has a soul, and we explained this to the children.  This pleased them very much.

	It was really amazing to watch how God's hand constantly protected us through the weeks and months.  We have actually seen blizzards stop when we would pray before leaving for Ottawa, and it would start snowing and blowing again almost immediately on our return back home.  We never once experienced car trouble on the highway.  One experience that happened seems to be very special to Jerry.  He had taken Jeff that day and when they pulled into our driveway on their return home, it was very obvious our exhaust system had a problem.  Jerry took the car to the garage  and as the mechanic reached his hand under the car, the exhaust pipe literally fell right into his hand.  He looked at Jerry and said, "You know, it's a miracle how that pipe didn't come off on the road".  I had driven Jeff myself the two previous days, and I feel this is just one more example of God's protecting hand.  There were countless 'little miracles' throughout the entire time span.

	In January, we heard of another eight year old boy who had the same medical problem as Jeff.  I felt such a burden for that family, but I didn't even know their name.  I only knew they lived in Cornwall, a city about sixty miles from home.  I told the Lord that if I was to meet and talk with them, He would have to open and lead the way.  It again amazed me to watch the way in which this all came about.

	About two weeks after I had the miscarriage, I returned to my part-time position at our local community college.  I had been there for about four years and was quite shocked to learn I was about to be laid off due to a shortage of work.  A new Christian, who also worked at the college, came up to me the following Sunday and said, "Joan, I'm so sorry to hear about your job.  How can you take much more?".   Now, I have to admit I was shaken at all that was happening to me, but I looked at this new child of God and replied, "Well Lucie, I ask God each new day to direct my life, and so I believe this too has to be a part of His plan".  Less than three days later, I was to discover how true this was!  God truly does know best.

	I had gone to Canada Man Power to register for unemployment insurance benefits, and as I turned to leave the office, I saw a former supply teacher of Jeff's filling in forms.  I had written a short story about our son and had put a copy in my purse before leaving home.  I felt directed to give this teacher the story.  As I handed it to her she said, "You know Joan, it's funny you'd give me this today.  A friend of mine in Cornwall has a little boy who has the same illness as Jeff does." . She gave me the name of the boy's aunt and I discovered, to my amazement, that she lived only one block from our home.  That evening I telephoned this aunt and we had a lovely chat on the phone.  She gave me the family's name, address, and unlisted telephone number.  I wrote a short note to the little boy's mother that evening, simply telling her I really understood what she was going through and that I was praying for her.  Later we met them at the Clinic in Ottawa and a friendship developed between our families.  As well, the two boys really hit if off and seemed to have similar likes and dislikes.  And so, once again, the Lord had proven His love to me and led me in the direction I was to take.  How I love Him and praise Him for His goodness to me!!

	Jerry and I have had countless opportunities to share Christ's love with others going through similar circumstances,  My heart would break each time we visited the hospital, and I felt I wanted to take the other parents and hold them in my arms and make everything all right for them.  Of course that was impossible, so all we could do was hold them up in prayer and let them know we shared their burden.  No one - psychologists, social workers, doctors, or nurses - can relate to a parent who is going through the heartache of dealing with a terminally ill child the way another parent can.  We felt a great responsibility to let our light shine before others so they could see Christ in our lives.

Chapter 13

	We could see a difference in Jeff's progress right after Christmas.  He suffered from a lot of headaches and nausea. Some bouts were becoming quite severe.  It seemed his resistance was down and it took him longer to recuperate from his treatments than it had previously.  He continued to go to school as much as possible and did really well considering what he was going through.

	Regardless of how much a couple love one another, their perspectives on dealing with a child differ from time to time.  Under circumstances such as the situation we were living with daily, it was very easy to lose control and for tempers to flare over even little insignificant things.  We had been warned by the staff in Ottawa that many marriages crumble under the pressures involved.  Thank God we had His love in our relationship as well as our love for each other.  I had to constantly fight being too over-protective of Jeff, and Jerry often accused me of this.  I felt Jerry pushed him too hard, particularly regarding his attendance at school, and I would accuse Jerry of trying to pretend things were still normal in our home when they really were not.  I realized it was very important that Jeff lead as normal a life as possible and I tried so hard to do the right thing.

	I spent countless hours at home making games out of Jeff's school work and we did spend many pleasant hours in this way. However, he would become frustrated very easily the tears would flow, so we'd have to go on to something else.  I felt it more important that Jeff enjoy the good things in life than it was for him to learn his times tables -- I wanted him to take time to just live life to the fullest and 'smell the flowers'.  It was very difficult to determine whether Jeff really was not feeling well some days, or whether he was using normal eight year old boy tactics to get out of going to school.  I must admit, it was almost impossible for me to see him unhappy about anything. It took a lot of love and patience to resolve conflicts that would arise daily, but we tried to do our best and to live one day at a time.

	As any mother knows, when your child is sick, you don't get much rest.  At the slightest noise in the night, I would literally jump out of bed and run to his room.  Therefore, I felt exhausted most of the time.

	Jeff had been wanting to take music lessons, and so he began piano lessons in February.  He did really well and enjoyed it immensely. Music was a wonderful outlet for his frustrations, and he would spend hours at the piano.  One day he sat down and played 'Jesus Loves Me' all the way through all on his own.  I would take him each week to the church and let him practice his lesson on the organ as I wanted him to develop a touch for this instrument as well.  He had a beautiful touch and it didn't seem to take any effort on his part.  One day as he was working on his music theory, I asked him where 'High C' was.  He grinned at me and replied, "Well Mom, you usually find it in a can", referring to a brand name of juice on the market.  Then he laughed and laughed.  He was always coming out with something and certainly kept the ball rolling.

	One afternoon in early winter, Jerry had taken Jeff to Ottawa.  We had requested an appointment because we had noticed a large lump which had formed in his neck.  I was very upset
that day and extremely uneasy.  After Jerry left, I decided to tend to the banking just to try and keep my mind occupied until they returned home.  When I went to leave, the car wouldn't start. I came back inside the house and decided, O.K. then, I'll just do the laundry instead because I needed to keep busy.  Then I discovered the dryer wouldn't work either.  Frustrations piled up and as I was standing at the fuse box trying to figure out whether I'd blown a fuse or what the problem was, the tears began to flow and I had an extreme case of feeling sorry for myself.  At this point, Faye walked in the back door.  She has told me since that she had a hard time keeping up with me as I paced from room to room.  I went on and on about "poor me" and how everything I touched went bad - my car, my dryer, and maybe
even my little boy.  Then I realized I wasn't being a very good hostess, and I asked her if she'd like a cup of coffee and a piece of cake.  She smiled and asked, "Did you make the cake yourself, Joan?"  I replied that I had and she said, grinning at me, "Well I just want you to know   after all you've had to say, I wouldn't touch that cake with a ten foot pole!"  Even under the circumstances, we sat together at the kitchen table and had a good laugh.  Faye has been a friend who has laughed with me, cried with me, and always done her best to uplift me.  I feel I can never repay her for all her many kindnesses.

	Jerry called from Ottawa later that afternoon to say the doctors were not unduly alarmed about the lump, but they would keep a close check on it in the future.  However, I remained very uneasy about it.

	One winter evening, Jeff called to me after I had settled him in bed.  I sensed he needed to talk and sat on the edge of his bed.  He chatted for awhile and then, looking directly into my eyes, he asked me what it was like to die.  Immediately the thought came to my mind, "Oh Lord, I gladly accept the responsibility to teach my son how to live for You, but I'm not really sure how to prepare him to die and that is becoming my responsibility too".  I silently prayed for wisdom and said, "Honey, I only know about death from what I've read in God's word.  But the other night on television I saw a man tell his story.  He had been clinically dead for over two hours and he told us about the lovely flowers and the peace and joy he felt in God's presence.".  Immediately Jeff responded with, "But how can
flowers grow when there's no rain in heaven?  I think the sun shines all the time up there.".  Then before I could say anything he answered, "But I guess if God could take a little bit of dirt and make a man, that certainly wouldn't be a problem for Him, would it Mom?"  I agreed with him and then he said, "Mommy, I'm really ready to be with Jesus.  There is no place I'd rather be."  At this point he filled all up and with little eyes brimming over with tears he said,   "But Mommy, I want everybody to go to heaven, but not everyone will 'cause people have to make a choice and not all of them decide to go there".  We had a time of prayer together and I held my darling child as close in my arms as was possible.  Oh, I didn't want to have him leave me and yet I felt this evening was a part of the preparation I must make.

	As I came downstairs to sit in the family room and enter this latest conversation with my boy in my diary, it was with a sense of wonderment.  It's hard for me to describe exactly how I felt at that moment as I reflected on what had taken place upstairs.  I wanted to cry and yet I was filled with awe at the way God was continuing to prepare me through Jeff himself.  At the same time, I sensed Jeff's great burden for others, and it seemed, somehow, too great a burden for such a little boy.
                              
Chapter 14

	In March we went to Toronto for a much-needed weekend away with Faye and Terry.  We all had a marvelous time and the sun shone all weekend.  We took the children on the subway andstreetcars.  They bought special toys and really enjoyed swimming in the indoor pool.  I discovered that eating was even a pleasure that weekend -- something I hadn't enjoyed in a long time.  On Saturday evening, we walked from our hotel to China Town and enjoyed a delicious Chinese meal, after which we browsed through the shops.  The boys each bought a wooden flute and Jeff couldn't wait to show it to the kids at school.

	The next day we took the children to the Toronto Science Center and Jeff showed a great deal of interest in the cancer display.  He explained the radiation treatment to us in great detail.  When we got in the car for our return to Brockville, he said, "Isn't God good?"  We agreed with him, and he continued,  "Out of all the kids at home, I'm the only one I know of that has cancer.  God really does take care of His own",  That, I think, fully expresses Jeff's attitude concerning his illness. God really was with him in a special way and seemed to give an eight year old boy understanding beyond his years.

	School break followed this trip and Jeff seemed really well, better than he had in quite a few months.  We had asked for a little break in his treatment schedule, as we felt he needed a rest from the emotional as well as the physical strain.  He had a terrific week, riding his bike and enjoying the sunny, mild spring days.  We took the boys on our annual trip to the sugar bush at Upper Canada Village and took along a picnic lunch. This was a tradition at our house.

	We celebrated Jamie's birthday party in March and Jeff joyously entered into all the fun.  What a comparison to the party the year before when Jeff had been so ill.  Faye's present to Jamie was a Superman poster and Jeff's mouth hung down a little when he saw it because he'd been wanting one for himself.   Faye said, "It's O.K. Jeff, I'll get you one for your birthday."  Jeff replied, "No Faye, I won't be alive for my next birthday."   Faye could not believe her ears, and never told me about their
conversation until months later.

		The next week, Jeff was to start his five day treatment cycle which meant driving to Ottawa daily.  He got through Monday and Tuesday's treatments, announcing each night as he walked in the back door, "Boy, it sure is good to be home!".   However, Tuesday evening he developed a very high fever and vomiting.  In my diary for Wednesday, March 28th, 1979, I wrote, "It's so hard to take Jeff to Ottawa, knowing they will make him unhappy and sick, when we work so hard to keep him well and happy.  I really have to put every shred of faith I have in God".
                                
	The following week we again were concerned about the large swelling in Jeff's neck.  This was the lump I had been worried about earlier, but the doctors kept checking and saying they didn't feel it was a problem.  However, Jerry and I had both remained extremely uneasy about it.  Jeff was also complaining of soreness under his arms and around his rib cage.  I picked him up one noon hour to hold him on my lap and cuddle him, when he screamed out with the pain as I touched him.  It hurt me so to think I had caused his discomfort, and our tears flowed together   This happened on April 4th.  That same afternoon, we were told Jeff's blood tests were showing more carcinoma and he would have to be admitted to hospital the following day,  In fact, they wanted to admit him right that moment, but Jerry asked if we couldn't please bring him home until the next day.  

	We had a family supper that evening.  My mother was with us.  Unless a family has gone through a similar situation, one would never know how extremely difficult it is to keep your composure at a time like that.  We all sat like robots trying to get the food down, and act normal for the boys' sakes.  Later that evening Jeff commented to his dad, "Well Daddy, maybe tonight was kind of like the Last Supper in the Bible, eh?". Jerry simply held him tight and fought back his tears.  Words
didn't seem to mean much that evening.  Our pastor and another couple from our church came to visit and have prayer with us later that evening.  The pastor anointed Jeff with oil according to the Holy Scriptures and had special prayer for him.  He explained to Jeff that his own brother had had the same type of cancer and had received a healing from God and was now ministering in Nova Scotia.  We believed with all our hearts God could do the same thing for our son.  All was well, good news or bad news, we had placed our boy in God's hands.

	The next morning, we took Jamie to my mother's and left, once again, for Ottawa Children's Hospital.  My stomach was very upset and Jerry had to stop the car for me on more than one occasion.  I have a tendency at any time to become car sick, but if I'm upset or stressed at all, it hits me really hard.  Jeff was so concerned about me and would say, "Mommy are you feeling better now?"  He would rub my forehead and put his arms around me.  Every time he did it, it was like a knife stabbinq into me.  There really is a pain that goes deeper than physical pain.  It was my little darling who was desperately  ill, but he was much more concerned about me than himself.  Oh God, how I loved him!

	As was the usual procedure, we went to the Admitting Office. We were to sign the usual forms giving our permission for tests and treatment.  But today I balked.  I told the Admitting Clerk that I refused to sign any more of their forms.  I agreed to sign for tests, but no more treatments.  Immediately after Jeff was made comfortable in his room, the doctors requested that we join them in yet another conference.  How I hated these 'medical meetings'.  A person really has no idea how you feel at one of these "conferences" unless you've been the one to sit on the 'hot seat'.  Everyone is watching you closely to see what your reactions will be, and it made me very uncomfortable and I found it hard to even think straight.  It would have been much easier for me to discuss things on a one-to-one basis.  I guess I should have verbalized my feelings concerning this.

	The doctors told us they wished to start Jeff's treatment over again from Day 1, which meant he'd be really sick, have all that intensive chemotherapy which would cause him to lose his hair again, etc. etc. etc.  When we asked what his chances were if we agreed, the doctor finally admitted they were less than two percent.  At this point we both insisted that the treatments end immediately.  It was not the quantity of time Jeff had left, we were much more concerned about the quality of that time.  We simply wanted to love him and make him as happy as we could.  We wanted him home!  No more hospitalizations unless they were absolutely essential.  Even with the lovely play-room filled with toys and games, Jeff always felt very lonely for Brockville and his own little bed.  Also, if we only had a short time now to be with our little one, we planned to treasure every moment and not be separated as a family any more than was absolutely necessary,

	The doctors and medical staff have been marvelous, but as much as they tried to form a relationship with Jeff, to them he was always Jeff - the patient.  To us he was so much more than that.  He was our everything and we simply wanted to trust God regardless of what the future held for all of us.

	Jerry returned to Brockville that evening and I had a tremendous opportunity to share Christ's love that night until very, very late.  People really listen when they know in the natural you have nothing to rejoice about, but God still puts a song in your heart.  His love literally engulfed my life.  I felt so at peace!

	Jeff was to receive a drug to help alleviate the swelling in his neck.  We agreed to that because Jeff had become quite concerned about the appearance of it.  He was to have this drug administered once a week for the next three weeks.  I contacted our family physician in Brockville to see if he would be willing to help out with Jeff's care, and he was so very kind.  He even offered to come to our home to administer the drug if that would make Jeff feel easier about it.  We could tell he was hurting for all of us.  He knew how much Jeff meant to us.  After all, he had been with us through our initial adoption procedures and was the one to rejoice with us at the news we would have our own child.  The Public Health Nurse would also pay us regular home visits.
	So we returned to Brockville.  This particular day was the only bad weather I had ever had to drive in alone with Jeff, and we'd been commuting at this time for over a year.  It was a really bad blizzard with the snow drifting heavily across the highway.  About halfway home, I recognized the car coming towards us.  It was Jerry and Jamie coming to meet us.  What a good feeling it was to follow them through that storm.  To follow Jerry's car and know he was there to help if we needed him somehow reminded me of the fact that we had been following our Savior's direction as well, through a very stormy time in our lives.  One of Jerry's favorite scriptures has always been - "The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it and is safe, Proverbs 18:10".  The Holy Scriptures became so much more meaningful and we found all of God's promises to be true. Terry had given us a little card from his promise box the first week Jeff had become ill, and the verse was from Isaiah 65:24, "And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear".  Once again that scripture was proven to us over and over.
                               
Chapter 15

	Jeff had become very interested in communion shortly after he had become ill.  He would ask us repeatedly if he could be allowed to partake of the emblems during the communion services.  We felt he was rather young, but after questioning him regarding his knowledge on the subject, we agreed he could participate.  After his first communion, he came to me as soon as we arrived home from church, put his arms around my waist and said, "Mommy, that was so special to me!".  He always looked forward to communion the first Sunday of each month.

	During communion service one Sunday, I noticed he was checking his arms all over and even had his pant legs pulled up checking his legs.  When I asked him what on earth he was doing, he whispered, "I'm doing what the pastor read about in the Bible, I'm examining myself".  The pastor had read the scripture that is shared often on Communion Sunday found in 1 Corinthians 11:28 - "But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup".  Well, Jeff was examining himself, and the only way he knew how was the way the doctors examined him every week.  At first I found this very comical, but after some reflection, I realized how very serious Jeff was in trying to do exactly what God wanted him to.

	Often, I recall a communion service that was very special to me.  Jeff was in hospital in Ottawa and he had insisted his mommy and daddy return home and sleep in their own beds for a night.  He convinced us he'd been fine by himself for a little while.  We awoke early on Sunday morning and planned an early trip to Ottawa.  I prepared communion sacraments for Mom, Jerry, and myself, and as we joined together in front of the television set, we shared the emblems as we watched a gospel program on television. It was such a blessed, sacred time.  We all felt God's presence very near all that day in a special way.  When we arrived at the hospital later that morning, Jeff was engrossed in a religious program on his television set, and he said, "Hey, did I ever enjoy the gospel programs this morning!"  We were so thrilled to think he would choose this type of program all on his own, when
he was free to select a children's program or cartoon instead.

		In April of 1979, we had a special speaker at our ladies missions banquet.  This dear Christian mother had lost her son the previous June in a tragic canoeing accident in northern Ontario. Many young boys lost their lives in that accident as it was a trip organized by their school.  I so much enjoyed the message she shared with us.  The following morning, we had a ladies' prayer gathering, and I happened to arrive a bit early to help get the coffee ready.  This mother had come early as well, and we began to share our experiences with each other,  Again, I felt God's preparation for what was to come.  I must add that there was still a real inner peace in my life, almost a joy in experiencing personally how we can take our burden, no matter how great or small, to the Lord and leave it with Him.

	One day, when I was dusting Jamie's dresser, I came across a book mark with the scripture that is found in John 3:16 - "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whosoever should believe on Him, should have everlasting life". Now I had been aware of that verse since I'd been a tiny child, as most people are.  However, the impact of it hit me as I stood repeating it over and over.  God knew how much His only son must suffer.  I had two sons, and the thought of losing just one of them hurt more deeply than words could ever describe.  I was able to understand more fully than ever before the supreme sacrifice our Heavenly Father made, when He willingly gave His only son, that I, and anyone else, might have everlasting life.

	We enjoyed some great family times together those next few weeks.  We spent long hours taking drives and going on short hikes, just simply enjoying God's great outdoors   Some days it was hard to believe what the doctors had told us, Jeff seemed so well.  He was still on some medication, but not a lot.  He was a really good boy about taking his pills faithfully -- some of them were really huge for a little guy to swallow, but he did his best to get them down.  Sometimes, when they came back up, we had to start all over again and his tears would flow and we'd coax him to "please honey, just try one more time".

	Grandpa McMillan had given Jeff some money towards the new bike he'd been saving his pennies for.  He came home with a shiny new red bike and his eyes sparkled as much as the paint on the bike.  He was so excited!  Daddy got him a new lock and key, and from then on, that key was on a chain around his neck wherever he went, except in his bath.  He and Jamie put their pennies together and bought a little hamster from a friend.  Our latest family arrival's name was "Shiney" and he became very important to the boys.  I must admit it took their mommy a lot longer to find him so special.  How good it made all of us feel to see Jeff so very, very happy.  It seemed he almost always had a big smile on his face and his hugs and kisses were plentiful.

	We had monthly water baptismal services in our assembly and Jeff had been expressing a great desire to be baptized   After our April baptismal service, he approached the pastor all on his own and asked if he was old enough to be baptized in water. The pastor agreed, and gave Jeff the form to fill out and return to him.  I can still see his little head bowed over those papers at the kitchen table, filling in the information that was required.  He kept telling me he "just couldn't wait" and would even come
home from school thinking about the testimony he wanted to share. One afternoon after school, he was sitting in the big recliner in the family room and he said, "I've been thinking all day about what I plan to say to the people, Mommy".  I said, "Oh, you have?"  A few moments later he grinned at me as he teased, "Curious, aren't you?"  I laughed and admitted I most certainly was, and he said, "Well, you'll just have to wait 'cause I have so many things to say".

	Jeff's appetite continued to be really good.  He very much enjoyed his church activities and sang his little heart out in the Junior Choir.  On Easter Sunday morning the children sang a little song about miracles and the words expressed how God knew their names and He cared about them.  Tears filled my eyes as I sat at the piano accompanying them, because as I watched my son's face as he sang, I knew he meant every word. He'd been singing and singing the song at home and it was precious to realize that he, too, had a song in his heart.

	One of the things I enjoy most in life is my work with children.  I teach Sunday School, am active in our Activity Club for children aged 6 to 13 years, and assist with the Junior Choir.  It is so very important for children to take an active part in God's work.  I believe many hearts have been touched by children's ministry in word and song.

		Our pastor set up a calendar for prayer and fasting at the church.  One Sunday morning in April, he presented to the church congregation the many needs in our assembly and at the top of the list was Jeff's name.  He requested that the people who wished to take part come forward and I was thrilled at the response.  It seemed almost the entire congregation went to the front of the church to sign the list, many of whom took numerous time slots for prayer during the day and night. Jeff was so pleased.  He sat quietly watching, then looked up at me and whispered, "Do all these people love me that much?".  After the service, he ran up to our pastor as he was shaking people's hands in the vestibule, and gave him a big hug.  He talked all that day about how much he loved Pastor Ettinger.

	How I thank God for the way in which people shared our burden so willingly.  It seemed that as they prayed, their love for one another grew as well as their love for our family. There was a beautiful bond of love in our church that I had never felt so strongly before.

Chapter 16

	We returned to Ottawa on April 27th, 1979.  The x-ray results and blood count reports were very good.  At this time, there were no signs of tumors and Jeff's blood count was stable. We informed the doctors that Jeff had been in direct contact with a little boy who'd come down with chicken pox the day after we'd visited them, and so they gave him a serum intravenously which was supposed to help.  They said that even if he did come down with the chicken pox, this serum should at least keep him from becoming extremely ill.

	We gave praise and glory to God the following Sunday morning in the worship service for the good reports we'd received.  Jeff glowed with happiness.  It seemed that of late he had such a sweet smile.  In fact, many people had been mentioning to me that he seemed to have "the smile of an angel"..  Of course, being a doting mother, I'd always felt that way, but there did seem to be a radiance about him that was rather special.

	The next day, Monday, Jamie came down with chicken pox. He was really sick.  Jeff expressed a great fear of getting them. He'd sit on the steps leading to the upstairs, and say, "Oh, Mommy, I hope I don't get that disease.  I'm scared of it." If only we'd known before we had accepted the dinner invitation a couple of weeks prior to this that we would be exposing Jeff to chicken pox.  Of course there was no way of knowing and we had continued to pray daily that the Lord would direct our lives, so we tried not to be too upset about it.

	While Jamie was recuperating from "his spots", we stayed at home doing very little, but I noticed Jeff had begun bruising very easily and extensively.  He also had some minor nosebleeds and his eyes had different red spots in the white of the eye. On May 12th, we were invited to a neighbor's home for supper. This family had a son Jeff's age, and Corey and Jeff had been 'best friends' since the age of two and a half.  They had played together constantly and attended school together since Kindergarten.  Corey and his mommy had been out to visit Jeff in hospital in Ottawa and Jeff had spent many happy hours in their home on different occasions.  We had a very nice time together that evening.  Later that night, when I got Jeff ready for his bath, I noticed his leg was purple from the knee down to his ankle. When I asked him what happened, he said he didn't know.  As far as he knew, the only thing that happened was he'd run into the hedge when they'd been playing but he said he didn't hit it hard
enough to make his leg look that bad.

	Jerry and I spent a long time together in prayer that night.  We told the Lord we did not know how much longer we could keep on coping with this way of life, and if it was not His divine will to heal Jeff and make him completely well, we'd rather He take him home where nothing could ever harm or frighten him again. We should never ask God for anything unless we are very sincere in our request.

	The next day was Mother's Day.  The boys gave me patio lights for our travel trailer.  Jeff once again sang im the Junior Choir and he played his first organ solo in Sunday School, with over two hundred people in attendance.  After I had set the organ up for him, I leaned over and kissed him 'for luck' as he was quite nervous about playing in front of so many people and he'd also complained quite a bit of stomach pains that morning.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I walked over to the piano to play along with him on one song.  Somehow, I felt all that day that Jeff's stay with us would end very soon.

	I don't mean to give the impression that I had no faith for Jeff's healing.  I knew without a doubt God could heal him had He chosen to do so.  Many, many times I have asked myself the question -- where is the line drawn between accepting God's will and still having faith.  I have come to the conclusion that the two go hand in hand.  Faith is a part of accepting God's will and believing He really does know best.

	I do not believe afflictions come from God.  It surely must grieve Him as well as the person suffering.  However, I believe that sometimes a loving Heavenly Father allows these sufferings to take place because it helps us grow in our faith; it makes us more sensitive and compassionate to the pain others must go through; and it teaches us to place our trust in Him alone.  I felt I was truly learning how to really hurt for other's problems.

	That evening after church on Mother's Day, there was a time of fellowship held in our church basement which was to be a time for people to become acquainted with new members in our church family.  We had a lovely time, and Jeff confided to me when we got home that he had "eaten six pieces of Mommy's rocky road cake".  Again that evening, a friend mentioned to me that there was just something special about Jeff's smile.  She said she'd been feeling that if Christ wanted Jeff to go and be with Him, we'd all have to accept this and not become bitter.  It was exactly what I had been feeling all day, and although I felt uneasy about it, once again I did the only thing I could do. I gave it all to Christ and thanked Him that our lives were in His hands.

	The next morning Jeff woke up with the chicken pox.  By Tuesday, he was a very sick little boy.  There was no sleep at all during the nights, and as Jerry was working the night shift and gone from 7:00 P.M. until 8:00 A.M..   I simply sat with Jeff in my arms, or laid him in bed beside me.  Tuesday night, very late, he put his dear little arms around my neck, and looking straight into my eyes he said, "Mommy, I'm not going to make it this time, but I really love you.  You're the best mommy any
boy has ever had."  Oh God!  The terrible, terrible hurt way down deep inside!

	His little body became totally covered with these horrible lesions.  They were inside his mouth, his eyes, his ears, and even grew up through his hair.  They were much different looking than the spots Jamie had had.  They were huge and looked more like smallpox than chicken pox.  By Thursday morning, it was evident he would have to be hospitalized.  When I told him, he cried and cried.  I wanted so much to keep him at home, but by now he was spitting up blood, couldn't stop coughing, and he really did need professional help to make him more comfortable. It broke my heart because I had made up my mind that unless things got desperate, my boy was staying at home.  However, when I telephoned the Clinic in Ottawa and talked with the nurse, I broke down and cried.  She said, "'Joan, please let us help you.  There comes a time when you just can't do it all by yourself any more".  I had to admit she was right.  Also, the public health nurse had come to see Jeff the day before and she had recommended he be returned to hospital as soon as possible.

	I telephoned my mother and Faye, and told them if they wanted to see Jeff one more time, perhaps they'd better come to the house   They both came immediately, and with very heavy hearts and tear-filled eyes, they said goodbye to a little boy they both loved very, very much.  I made up a little bed for Jeff in the back of the car.  Jerry insisted on taking him to Ottawa by himself because he wanted me to try and get some much-needed rest.  I was absolutely physically and emotionally exhausted, but I felt so sorry for Jerry.  He hadn't slept at all either for over two days and I was worried about him handling the driving and everything all by himself.  But I was just too tired to argue and so stayed home with Jamie.

	I placed my precious darling in the car, held him so tenderly in my arms, and kissed him goodbye.  Oh the feeling of indescribable sadness as I watched that little red car pull out of the driveway.  About one block from the entrance to the hospital, Jeff began hemorrhaging and this frightened him.  He had already been vomiting blood for two days and the sight of it was very scary to a little boy who knew this was what usually happened to the kids at the hospital before they died.
Jerry came home late that night, very upset and tearful, and totally exhausted.  We just held each other.  There were no words to be said.  A part of us was dying.

	We left very early the next morning, Friday, to be with our son.  He was so sick, he barely responded when I entered his room.  I had to leave for a moment to regain my composure after seeing how terrible he looked.  I suddenly became very lightheaded and sat for a short time with my head down on my knees trying somehow to regain my presence of mind to cope with whatever lay ahead.  I sent up a constant prayer that God would allow me to appear calm and relaxed in front of Jeff.  My
brother and his wife visited that morning and Jeff didn't respond at all.  We all knew how much love he had for Auntie Lorna and Uncle Ron, and this proved how very sick he really was. A pastor friend from Ottawa came to visit that day as well, and when he saw Jeff's physical condition he literally laid his head in Jerry's lap and wept.  He told us he really didn't know how he personally could handle this if it were his boy instead of Jeff.  He had a son the same age.  We appreciated his honesty, but assured him we knew he would be able to because God's strength is available to each of His children if only we ask for it when the need is there.

	When I would look at my little one's body laying naked on the bed with a large fan circulating on a table beside him, his entire body was coated in the filth of that disease.  I wondered "Oh God, why?  He just doesn't deserve all this.".   It seemed to me as if all the sin of the world has fastened itself to Jeff''s innocent little body.  I couldn't stand it any longer and gently pulled the white sheet up to his chest as I knew if he were aware of how he was being seen, it would upset him very much.  We sat by our son's bedside and over and over we sang 'Jesus Loves Me'.  When we asked him if he still loved Jesus, he replied in a barely audible voice, "Oh yes!"  He could barely talk because the chicken pox were numerous in his lungs and throat as well as covering his tongue and mouth.  He was also bleeding from every opening in his body and from each lesion as well.

	That morning I had made Jeff's favorite chocolate pudding and had watered it down so it was very thin in consistency.  He was having great difficulty in swallowing.  He was in a very deep sleep, but every once in a while, he would try to sit up and he motioned to me that he was hungry.  I got permission from the nurse to try and feed him some of the pudding, and although he was choking on even sips of water, he ate a good deal of the pudding throughout the day.  I guess God knew how much that would help me; I was still Jeff's mother feeding him something he loved.

	My suitcase was out in the car and I planned to stay over night with Jeff.  However, I was still completely exhausted, and both Jerry and the medical staff felt it would be wise for me to return home and sleep in my own bed that night.  Also, there was a terrible odor coming from Jeff's body by this time which made me very nauseated and I had to keep going for fresh air.         

	I don't know yet why I let everyone talk me into leaving Jeff that night.  I had never left him before when he was really ill.  However, I guess the Lord knows what we can and cannot bear and what is best for us.  I leaned over and kissed my precious boy and asked if it was all right with him if mommy and daddy went home for awhile and I assured him I planned to stay the next night for as long as he needed me.  He replied, "Sure Mommy, but please come faster tomorrow".  I promised I would come as fast as I could without getting a speeding ticket and he tried to give me a little grin.
   
Chapter 17

	Jerry and I cried together all the way back to Brockville that Friday evening.  We sobbed our hearts out to God.  A special prayer meeting was held at our church that evening on Jeff's behalf and, once again, our beloved church family cried out to God for our great need. When I talked with my sister-in-law on the phone that night and told her how I felt about the way Jeff looked, she said, "Joan, take the most beautiful photograph you have of your son and place it beside your bed tonight".  I did just that.

	I telephoned the hospital twice during the night and was told he was about the same.  We had definitely requested that if they thought the end was near, they immediately get in touch with us as we needed and hour and a half traveling time to get there and we wanted to be with Jeff.  The doctor had told me on Friday that he felt it would be at least another week.  I called again very early Saturday morning and the nurse told me he was becoming quite restless.  We left as soon as we could and as we drove the familiar highway  to Ottawa, I remember simply saying repeatedly, "Oh God, please help us.  Please help us."

	When we walked down the corridor towards Jeff's room, we met a nurse and Jerry said, "How's my boy today?"  At the look on her face, we both immediately knew what she had to tell us.
She took  us by the arms and said, "I'm so sorry to have to tell you Jeff died about an hour ago."  The staff had tried to notify us but we were already on the way.  Jerry confided to me later that he had been praying all the way out that if God was going to take Jeff, that it would be all over before we arrived
because he really didn't want me to witness Jeff's death   He felt it would have been a scene I would find very hard to live with later.  Perhaps he was right, but somehow I felt after giving Jeff my best for over fifteen months during his illness, that now when he'd needed me most, I had somehow failed him.  The words Jeff had said the day before pounded in my head -- "Mommy, please come faster tomorrow".  Oh my darling son -- if only I'd stayed! 

	Then, I recall looking down at my hands and I thought, "I really did make mistakes with these hands even though I tried my best.  Jeff is now being cared for by divine hands that can make no mistakes".  A joy -- was it possible? -- began to flood my soul.  Jerry and I stood with our arms around one another.  We were never again to see our lively little Jeff on this earth and be able to talk and laugh with him, but we could rejoice because our darling was right this very moment with Jesus.  How many times had he said, "It's better to be in heaven with Jesus than anywhere else". I recalled the many times on his return from Ottawa, when he'd run in the back door and yell, "Boy it sure is good to be home!"  I could almost hear him saying this to Jesus -- the one he really did love the best.

	And so, May 19th, 1979 became the most important day in our son's life.  That was the day he met Jesus and was finally at peace in his 'eternal home'.

	We were asked if we wished to be alone with Jeff's body for awhile.  I did not wish to do so, but Jerry went twice, in fact, to be alone with his son.  I just wanted to try and forget the ugly sight his little body had become.  I wanted to picture him as I'd known, loved, and cared for him.  I knew he wasn't there any more, but the little body I'd tried so hard to keep well was, and I just had no desire to see it lying lifeless. Never once have I regretted this decision.

	As I stood waiting for Jerry, I gazed quietly at the I.V. equipment and I could honestly thank God that no one could ever hurt or frighten my son again.  After a short talk with the doctor and signing permission forms allowing an autopsy to be performed in the hopes of helping some other child, I returned to the fourth floor where Jeff had spent most of his time while hospitalized.  I thanked the nurses for their many kindnesses to our family.  Once again, I tried to share God's love for my family and to explain how I felt a great peace even at that moment.  When I went to leave, I gave them a picture of Jeff.  As I looked back, they stood in a little circle together weeping.  My heart goes out to medical personnel dealing with sick children, or adults for that matter.  They may act tough when they have to, but many times they also become very emotional about what they have to deal with.  It takes very special people to do the job that must be done.

	The young man who'd been Jeff's social worker came in to see us.  When I commented to him how nice it was of him to come to work on a Saturday holiday weekend, he said quietly, "Jeff was my friend too, you know".  Since Jeff's death I have received many beautiful letters from those who helped care for him.  They expressed how glad they were to have a little part in his life. One of the nurses who wrote stated, "Jeffrey has had a tremendous witness for Christ in his few short years; sad to say, but better than most adults".

	Friends from Brockville were visiting in Ottawa that day, and we called them.  Also Faye, Terry, Robin, Mom and Jamie were soon to arrive.  Mom had suspected things were critical when
the hospital had called, and Terry offered to drive her to Ottawa to be with us.  God is so good.  He sent just the people we needed to be with the most at that particular time.  I could not cry -- it seemed the tears just would not come.  I had cried too many when Jeff was sick.  Together with our loved ones, we had a time of prayer right out in the parking lot behind the hospital and God's peace flowed abundantly.  It was a beautiful day - sunny and warm and not a cloud in the sky.

	As we were driving home, I recalled Jeff asking me one night a few weeks earlier, "Mommy, when I die, is there a river I'll have to cross like the one people sing about? He was referring to the River Jordan, and before I could answer him, he responded with, "Oh well, if there is, it's O.K. 'cause Jesus will help me to get across."

	But how was I to survive without ever feeling those dear little arms around me ever again?  Never again would his sweet little voice say, "Mommy, know how much I love you?  Higher than the highest cloud and wider than the widest ocean!".   I knew then I needed God's help and strength like I never had before.
                               
Chapter 18

	The first thing I did on our arrival home that day was to take each and every bottle of medication out of the cupboards and poured it all down the toilet and flushed it away,  "Thank you Jesus.  Jeff never has to swallow another pill."

	God's word tells us in Isaiah 57:1 that "the righteous perisheth and no people layeth it to heart: and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come."  I realized then that Jeff was never going to have to experience grief such as we were all feeling now for him.  He was never to know what it felt like to be unloved.  He was always shown much affection.  If our world was to continue in the direction it seems to be heading, I had to believe Jeff was much safer than the rest of us.  He was in a better place.

	It was so good to feel the protection given us because of our friend's prayers on our behalf.  It seemed that as we became stronger to cope with the loneliness, God gently eased us 'off our cloud'.  How good of Him not to let us hurt while we were so vulnerable.

	On our arrival home, the pastor came to visit our home and we made plans for our son's funeral.  We wanted God to be seen in this as He had in all else.  Faye and Terry stayed right with us.  Oh, how we appreciated that.  When I came down the stairs carrying Jeff's favorite clothing his daddy had given him for his eighth birthday - his Star Wars pants and velour shirt - poor Faye burst into tears.  Jeff had loved that outfit, and we wanted him to be buried in something he'd been happiest in.
Faye and Terry accompanied us to the funeral home to make the necessary arrangements.  Numerous friends and neighbors came bringing more gifts of love.  Our cupboards overflowed.  People were so generous once again, as they had been throughout Jeff's illness.

	Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful.  A perfect May morning.  There was no place we wanted to be other than in church.  Was it only one short week since Jeff had played his organ solo?  It seemed like an eternity.  1 played the organ for the morning worship service and again felt God's presence in a very real way. As I looked down from the organ, I could picture Jeff's shining
little face in the pew where he always sat with his daddy.  This still happens to me Sundays when I play.  I find it helps to simply close my eyes for a few moments, and try to form a mental picture of Jeff sitting beside Jesus.  It eases the hurt.

	How good it felt to worship together with the family of God. Even though our physical family was no longer complete, we still had the love and fellowship of our church family.  I felt that each and
every face displayed the emotions they were feeling that day, and somehow I felt both Jerry and I must remain strong for them.

	Family friends came from Toronto and we had a house full of people for dinner and the afternoon.  Jamie was somewhat bewildered by all that was happening and didn't really seem to be grasping what was going on.  Many friends and neighbors continued to pay us visits all that day and Corey's parents took Jamie out for a boat ride.

	Both Jerry and I seemed to be at peace about the situation, but we couldn't help but recall that it had only been one short week earlier that we had told God to take Jeff home if that was His will.  That's what I meant when I said we need to be sincere when we talk to God. I think the only time the tears started that day was when mom took the ice cream from the refrigerator for dinner   It was Jeff's favorite kind, butterscotch ripple.

	Before we left for the funeral home that evening, another family friend brought us a beautiful poem he had felt inspired to write for us.  This dear friend had written at the bottom of his poem - "To Joan, Jerry, and Jamie McMillan, whom we love deeply.  At the time of the 'passing on' of their son,
Jeffrey. (Written for the message that it brings - not for its poetic value.)  Signed, Handy, Marie, and Laurie Nevers, May 20, 1979."  This is what he wrote.
HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL

WHY?? We ask the question for the millionth time,
Should life be taken from us, when in its very prime?
Why should it be at all, we are so prone to say,
Indeed why now, why us, or in this very way?

But-God omniscient, simply says, I had a plan,
I love, I care, I understand.
Above your ways, My ways are higher far,
Than lowly earth is from the highest star.

Think not of what you lost, but what you've had;
Think not of what is gone, but gone on before.
Though for the moment now, your hearts are sad,
Rich blessings yet for you I have in store.

The love, the joys, the hopes, the tears,
I gave you for a time;
But do remember through the years,
In the end, all things beautiful are 'Mine'.

Our Heavenly Father does truly give,
He also takes away.
Blessed be His Holy Name who lives,
Forever and a day.

In a moment, in an instant, in the twinkle of an eye,
We shall be changed, we all shall rise,
And grasping the eternal prize,
We all shall meet Him in the sky.

Then shall we know, as we are known,
Though now we darkly see.
That which was here in weakness sown,
Shall rise, to ever be with Thee.

Meanwhile until that day shall dawn,
Our faith in Thee, please keep it strong;
And deep within our souls, this truth instill,
Our Savior doeth all things well.

Is there any greater blessing God gives us than to have friends such as these?  How we appreciated Handy sharing his innermost feelings with us in this beautiful way.

	At the funeral home on Sunday evening, we had asked Terry if he would make us up a bulletin board which would display many of Jeff's pictures he had drawn concerning his feelings of Christ, particularly the crucifixion.  The latest one he had done less than a week before his death was a picture of Jesus walking alone carrying the cross on His back.  He had drawn a crowd of people in the background.  When his daddy had asked him who the people were, Jeff had replied, "Those are the people who are mocking my Jesus". 

		Many hearts seemed to be touched through Jeff's art work and many questions were asked.  We had requested that the casket be kept closed, but had photographs of Jeff smiling and healthy on display.  There were so many beautiful flowers and remembrances. One very special one was from the kids in the Junior Choir.  We had a floral display arranged on his beloved Bible as well.

	Many friends and acquaintances came to be with us   We repeatedly told people we did not want this to be a morbid affair,  and in fact, encouraged them to bring their children to help fill the room with sounds of happy, healthy children's talk and laughter.  Jamie wandered around with his little stuffed animal and once we heard him, as he stood at the head of the casket, saying, "Jeffy, if you're really in there, please say goodbye to me".  Although we were all very, very tired it was beautiful, even at this time, to be able to share God's love with others.
                              
Chapter 19


	On the morning of the funeral, I awoke feeling refreshed. Surely only God could do this!  The date was Monday, May 21st, 1979.  I wrote in my diary that morning, "Dear Lord Jesus, help us in this day I pray.  May Your Holy Spirit reach lost souls during Jeff's funeral and may we continue to feel that precious peace that passeth all understanding".

	As we left the funeral home and were proceeding towards our church behind the hearse, light raindrops began softly falling.  My heart continued to rejoice as I thought -- Jeff never has to see another storm - he is where all is light, peace, and happiness. The funeral service was a blessing to all of us.  There was such a lovely spirit of worship for the duration of the service.  A dear family friend  sang a beautiful song entitled 'We Shall See His Lovely Face'.  Jeff's Uncle Don, Jerry's brother, played the organ.  Our former pastor and his dear wife had come from well over a hundred miles away, and along with our own pastor and assistant pastor took part in the service. God's presence was very real.  At our request, the pastor included an invitation for anyone wishing to accept Christ as their personal Savior.  We simply had to request he do so when we recalled Jeff's bedtime talk with me concerning his concern that "not everyone will go to heaven 'cause people have to make a choice and not all of them will decide to go there". The ladies of the church served a lovely luncheon in the basement following the service, and again there were countless opportunities to share Christ and His keeping power.  Especially appreciated was the fact that many of Jeff's school teachers were in attendance and stayed on for the luncheon as well.

		You might want to ask, even with Christ sustaining me, do I feel the loss in a tremendous way?  Of course I do   Deeply!!  Jeff was, and Jamie is, more precious by far to me than life itself.  However, no  matter what happens to us, life does go on and so must we.

	Jamie decided that he'd like to move into Jeff's bedroom and I found this to be a great help.  Yes, I still had an empty bedroom upstairs, but I also still have the little boy who slept there.  It is so good to walk into Jeff's bedroom at night and still be able to hug a precious little boy who sleeps in that bed.

		The day after the funeral, Jeff's body was to be buried at three in the afternoon.  The committal service could not take place the same day as the funeral because it was a holiday.  The undertaker commented as we stood by the graveside how there was not even one cloud in the sky.  As a few of our friends, along with our assistant pastor and my mother gathered with us at the cemetery, I was filled with the assurance that Jeff was not there, but with his Lord.  I did not feel his death was a defeat.  I couldn't even look down at the spot we had chosen to lay his little body; rather I wanted to look up towards heaven   I felt so grateful to God that Jeff did not waste away in a hospital bed for months and months many miles from home.  That would have been so hard, and we had watched so many parents go through this. I was also very grateful that he never experienced intense pain. And more important, I knew without a shadow of doubt that there would be no more signs of sickness or disfigurement in Jeff's body when we would see him again.  Those who have accepted Christ into their hearts and lives have a glorious hope which we can read about in I Thessalonians, Chapter 4, verses 13 to 18.

	My mind went back to a circumstance that had taken place on a return trip from Ottawa a few months earlier.  The boys and I were discussing how God had once again answered our prayers regarding the weather situation.  It had looked very threatening and after we had prayed together, we just sat in the car and watched the black clouds disappear and out popped the sun.  There had even been a storm warning in effect that day.  

		Jeff spoke in a very quiet voice, and said, "Mommy, I was thinking about the story in the Bible about Abraham and Isaac [Genesis, chapter 22].  I'm kind of like Isaac and I guess you and daddy are like Abraham.  I think if we're all willing to make a sacrifice, God will answer all our prayers".  It amazed me that he would refer to this biblical occurrence in such a way, relating to the fact that he might have to be the sacrifice, and we, as his parents, must be willing for this to take place. Never once did Jeff act bitter over the fact that he was sick. He would make remarks like "Mom, I just don't feel like a regular boy any more", and "If it's a game I'm playing, I think maybe I'm losing", but he never once expressed fear or bitterness about his situation.  I may have been older than Jeff in years,
but there were so many lessons I learned from my young son.

     A couple of weeks prior to Jeff's death he had said to my mother, "Grandma, when I get to heaven, I wish there would be a telephone so I could call and tell you what it's like". Driving home from the cemetery, I commented to mom and Jerry that even if the Lord could give us our son back well and
healthy, I wouldn't want that.  I knew he was better with the Lord.  Jerry agreed but he added, "I have only one request. I sure wish Jeff could make that telephone call he talked about to Grandma".  After we'd been home about an hour, a knock came to our front door.  There stood a neighbor I didn't know very well.  She handed my mother an envelope and simply said, "Tell Joan this is from God".  Inside was a beautiful poem dated May 22nd, 1979, 1:30 P M.  It read as follows:
                            
GOD'S REASSURANCE

If I had the chance to see you again,
I would bring with me my closest, dearest friend
His hand has touched me, no more pain to see,
For His call was gentle, He said, "Come along with Me".
And as I rose up quietly, all pain was left behind,
My strength came back within me,
From the touch of the Man Who is kind.
"Jesus", I whispered, "I love You so."
And as He kissed me upon the cheek,
He said, "This I truly know".

I then took a walk with Jesus down a long, long road,
And as He hung unto my hand, entered peacefulness, no
more heavy load.
Then before my eyes, I saw Heaven's beautiful gate,
As He opened lt to let me in, there were others no
more than eight.
As they gathered around Him, an angel was by their side,
They cried, "Master, we love You".
He smiled at them with pride.

I know Jesus loves me, I'm happy to be here,
Protected by His love, every day and every year,
I wish I could tell you more, but there's so much I
have to see,
Walking along with Jesus, for now I am free.
I will be returning, on that glorious day,
Remember God loves you, I'd tell Him when I'd pray.
I must go now Mother, send brother my love,
Tell Daddy also, for I look down from above.
M. Shalla.

	Tears coursed down my cheeks as I read the poem.  Jerry came into the kitchen as I was crying, and was concerned to see me upset.  I smiled at him through my tears and assured him they were tears of happiness and that I was not unduly distressed.  I said, "Honey, you maybe didn't get that telephone call you wanted, but you sure did receive a beautiful telegram instead".

	This neighbor who wrote the poem explained to me later that she had her usual devotions around 1:30 that afternoon, and as she did so, she was inspired to pick up her pen and the words of the poem flowed on to the paper.  She said, "They weren't my words, it was from God".  I recalled Jerry's request being expressed at 3:30 that same day, and again realized how true the scripture is - God really does hear and answers before we even ask.  The poem was already down on paper when Jerry had mentioned the longing of his heart.
                           
Chapter 20

	We had been asked to return to the Children's Hospital in Ottawa the following day, Wednesday, May 23rd, as the staff at the Oncology Clinic wished to meet with us.  They had Jeff's autopsy results, at least some of them, and also there were more papers to be signed concerning insurance matters.  Once again we had the tremendous opportunity to share our faith with them.  We had often expressed our feelings to the medical staff concerning the fact that as much as we respected their training and knowledge regarding medical matters, we had continually asked God to give them wisdom in making treatment decisions, etc., not only where our own boy had been concerned, but the other children as well. 

	The weeks following Jeff's funeral were very busy ones indeed.  You don't stop sharing Christ's blessings after something like this happens in your life.  It seemed rather to become a full-time job, ministering however we could to so many people, all of whom had different needs.  We had assured other families that our door was always open, and if there was any small way we could ever be of help, we wanted to be available. I felt a compassion for others that I had not experienced prior
to Jeff's illness.  Sure, I had felt sorry for other people when they had problems, but I had not known what it was like to actually hurt for others as I held them up in prayer.

	Our pastor had taken his text for Jeff's funeral from II Samuel, Chapter 12, Verses 15 to 23, concerning a time when King David's son had died.  We too had prayed and fasted for our son's healing, but God had chosen to take him Home with Him.  David had realized, as did we, that life does go on, and so we tried to greet each new day with joy in our hearts, and to make life for Jamie as normal as we possibly could under such circumstances.

	A couple of weeks after Jeff died, there arrived in the mail two things addressed to him personally.  The first envelope contained his National Geographic Magazine and the second was his bike license.  I could still remember the look of happiness on his face when, just a few weeks earlier, he and his daddy had loaded that new bike into the back of the car and had taken it to the police station to sign up for his license.  It seemed like such a long, long time since I'd seen him, and it was a time to weep.  I was beginning to feel very lonely for my little guy!

	The teacher sent Jeff's school work home and in one of his textbooks, I discovered where he had drawn a picture of Jesus standing with a perfect little dove perched on His shoulder.  I thought of how much Jeff had wanted to be baptized ln water and realized that, even at school, he had been thinking about it.

	I know the Lord knew the desires of that little child's heart.  Jeff had died one week before the service in which he was to have been baptized.  Instead of standing beside his beloved pastor in the baptismal tank, he was, at that very moment in the arms of Christ.  How beautiful!

	Jeff's school teacher told us that many times when she would be reading a Bible story to the class and had trouble pronouncing a word, a little hand would go up and often Jeff had the correct answer for her.  He also spent some time at school drawing similar pictures to the ones included in this book.  In fact, more than one of his teachers have commented to me about this.  It was very difficult for the other children in his Grade 3 class to accept the fact that Jeff would never be back and they asked the teacher if she would please just leave his desk as it was for awhile.  She agreed to do this.  Some of the children got together and made a huge card for us.  On it was a picture of Jeff wearing his T-shirt with his name on it.  When he'd first taken sick, often he would insist on wearing that particular shirt to the hospital because so many different doctors would keep asking him to repeat his name.  He said it saved him a lot of trouble.  Many, many times since Jeff has gone to be with Jesus, I have taken that shirt out of the drawer and hugged it to me as I wept.

	A teacher from our church congregation asked me one evening if I had seen the poster Jeff had drawn that had been on display in the Brockville Public Library.  I hadn't even heard about any such poster.  She brought me a copy of a hospital newsletter and I discovered Jeff's poster had been chosen to be included in their booklet.  It was a picture of a little boy sitting in bed with a toy gun and a nurse standing by the bed.  I couldn't help but notice there was no I.V. included in the picture.  At the top of the page, Jeff had printed "Hospitals Are Okay".

	About one month after Jeff's death, we were attending our midweek Bible Study and Family Night, and I must admit, loneliness had set in.  I very much missed all the delightful hours Jeff and I had spent together and particularly missed the happy times we had spent at the church when he would play the organ and I'd join in and play along on the piano.

	All that day, I could not get the thought to leave my mind that perhaps it really had been time wasted that I had spent teaching my son school lessons and music along with all the other things in life children must be taught   In fact, I made mention of my feelings to a teacher who was also at the meeting.  She reassured me that it definitely was not time wasted.  I was very restless all through the Bible Study that night and spent a sleepless night.  There were many questions I wanted God to answer.

	A little girl in my Sunday School class had said to me the previous Sunday morning, "Well, Mrs. McMillan, I guess maybe Jesus needed Jeff more than we did".   Someone else had written in a sympathy card, "I guess Jeff must have been a very special boy for Jesus to take him so soon".  However, I still had this gnawing feeling about hours that perhaps had been time wasted with Jeff, when there were more important things I should have been teaching him.  The following morning, when I opened the mail, this beautiful poem fell from the envelope.

To All Parents

I will lend you, for a little time,
A child of mine, He said.
For you to love the while he lives,
And mourn for when he's dead.

It may be six or seven years,
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care of him for Me?

He'll bring his charms to gladden you,
And should his stay be brief.
You'll have his lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.

I've looked the wide world over,
In search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.

Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labour vain.
Nor hate me when I come
To take him home again?

I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'
For all the joys Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.

We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.

But should the angels call for him,
Much sooner than we've planned.
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand.


                                Edgar Guest


	This poem had been sent to us by the mother I mentioned previously who had also lost her son at a very young age.  Once again, I marveled at how God had answered my prayer before I had even asked.  That poem was already in the mail when I had verbalized my feelings concerning the content of the poem the previous evening.  God was so good and His timing once again was just perfect.


Chapter 21

	During the weeks following Jeff's death we received many beautiful plants, cards, and letters and people poured their thoughts and feelings upon us.  What we felt from them was genuine love and concern.  The couple Jeff had been ring bearer for the previous fall gave us a lovely rose bush to plant in memory of our son.  How lovely to know that each spring as those beautiful roses bloom, we can concentrate on our many memories of Jeff.  It has also been nice, on different occasions, to make up a rose bowl of those beautiful yellow roses and share some of "Jeff's roses" with a sick or downcast friend.

	One of the most difficult things I had to do following Jeff's death was to go and buy groceries.  I'm sure every mother finds one particular job the most difficult to get back to. I had, for many, many months, been concentrating on buying all of Jeff's favourite foods to keep him eating well, and I found
I could not even go up the aisles of the grocery store without becoming really sick to my stomach.  In fact, the first trip to the grocery store, I ended up leaving without even getting my groceries.  I headed straight for home and went to my knees and asked Christ to give me extra strength to complete my tasks
as a wife and mother.

	If there would be any advice I could give to someone going through the grief of losing their child, it would be to give yourself time to mourn.  No one can tell another how long that time will be -- it just takes as long as it takes!  There will be times when you think you are losing your mind, but those
were the times I was so very thankful I could call out immediately to my Heavenly Father and ask for new strength and peace from Him.  Sometimes there are even physical symptoms and you feel really
ill.  This is normal; anyone who has grieved deeply will tell you this is so.

	I have discovered the memories a person has after a loved one leaves are very special.  They hurt very much at first, but with time, the tears you experience as you walk into a room and see an empty chair, or a certain favourite toy laying discarded, or a toothbrush that is no longer used, eventually these memories can become joyful as you recall the happy previous days of zestful living.  I personally feel it is best not to do away with things that remind you of your loved one, at least not right away.  It helps to simply deal with it on a daily basis until it stops hurting and becomes only a gentle reminder of what you as a family were allowed to share, even if it was only for a few short years.  Jeff crammed a tremendous amount of living into the eight short years he was given.

	There was a little song that was sung repeatedly on the radio during 1979, the International Year of the Child.  The words went like this:  "Child of Mine, Child of Mine, Oh sweet darling, I'm so glad you are a child of mine".  It was an advertisement for a foster parents plan but somehow every time I heard this song, and it was usually played right at bedtime, the tears flowed freely.
	Jamie really felt the loss of his brother.  Jeff had been much more than just his brother; he also was Jamie's best friend, his protector, his confidant, and his hero.  We had always striven for the boys to be very close and now the hurt in the severence of this relationship was very great in Jamie's young life.  He had a special way of showing me when he was hurting the most.  He'd come downstairs in the morning wearing a shirt or something that had belonged to Jeff.  I quickly realized that this somehow made him feel a little closer to his 'lost brother' and therefore left a few of Jeff's things in a readily available spot for him.

	I found him one day laying on the floor beside his bed with Jeff's wallet opened to some pictures of the two of them.  He was running his fingers lovingly over Jeff's photograph.  Many times I would quietly breathe a prayer asking for guidance in how to deal with Jamie's grief.  He just couldn't understand why Jesus would decide to take Jeff when he had prayed so hard that God would heal him.  I did not want bitterness towards God to enter Jamie's heart and could see this as a possibility.  One day he asked, "Mommy, do you think Jesus would just let Jeffy come down and go to the carnival with me, just for a couple of hours?"  He continually worried that Jeff "would really like the playgrounds in heaven".

	One night, when Jamie was fevered and sick with flu, he asked me if he would die when he was eight.  Then he asked me the name of Jeff's disease.  When I told him, he replied, "Ya cancer! Why did somebody from our house have to get it?"  I assured him that it was very unlikely he would get as sick as Jeff had been, and then he said, "Well, if I do live to be an old man, will Jesus tell Jeff who I am when I get to heaven because Jeff won't recognize me?"  Once again, I assured him that as soon as Jeff saw him, he'd know him because the Bible told us so.

	A few months after this little talk together, Jamie's little hamster, Shiney, died.  He ran to his room and sobbed as he said over and over again, "Everything I ever loved has died - my brother, my goldfish and now Shiney!"  He and his daddy made a little cross, and painted it silver, and Jamie printed Shiney's name on the cross.  He and Jerry had a little burial service out in our garden one cold, rainy November night.

	Jamie's first week in Grade I was difficult   It broke my heart to watch a sad, little boy head down the street all by himself, no big brother to walk along with him and take care of him.  About three months after Jeff's death, on a Sunday morning, Jamie was cuddled up beside me in bed, and we were having our early morning chat and sharing time.  Jerry had already left for work.  My little son's question that morning was, "Mommy, why did that man put Jeff in a box and bury him in the ground?"  He did not understand us talking about Jeff being in heaven and yet his body had been buried.  Breathing a prayer for divine wisdom to deal with this, I gave Jamie a quick hug and asked, "Who did I just hug?"  He giggled and said, "Jamie, silly!"  I replied, "Well honey, what I really hugged was the little house God gave Jamie to live in while he's on earth".  I tried to explain to him that if a person serves God and has consecrated his life to God, that when he dies, when the Lord Himself decides He wants that person to come and be with Him forever, then the little "house" is no longer needed.  I explained that the rules on earth are that a man called an undertaker has to come and put that "little house" in a casket and bury it in the ground because it really has no more purpose.  That seemed to satisfy him, but questions continued to be asked constantly and it made me realize how often his little heart was heavy.  Six years of age is a very tender time to have to learn one of life's hardest lessons.

	The thought continued to haunt me concerning Jeff's last words to me the day before he died, when he asked me to "please come faster tomorrow".  However, one evening sitting together around a campfire with Faye and Terry, Terry consoled me with these words.  He said, "Joan, you have to remember time has no essence in heaven.  It will seem to Jeff only a short time until he sees you."  I realize, however, it will seem a longer time for us and I think often of the scripture, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning", Psalm 30:5.


Chapter 22

	It seemed strange that summer of 1979 to arrive at Cobourg Camp without Jeff bubbling and bouncing in the back seat of the car.  Oh, how he loved camp meeting time:  We had always taken our boys with us to camp since they were babies.  Jamie seemed at a loss as to what to do without his big brother there, especially when time came for the children's services.  However, some of Jeff's buddies came over to our trailer and were very good to Jamie that summer.  When Jerry returned home for a few days to work, Jamie and I shared many long walks along the beach collecting rocks and we had a multitude of good talks.  It was a 'healing process' for both of us.

	During the midweek service, Jamie gave his heart to God and dedicated his life to Christ.  Nothing could have made his mommy and daddy happier.  Once again, at camp, the Lord showed me how much He loves and cares for His children.  Three campsites away from our trailer, there was a Godly mother who, years before, had lost her nine year old daughter with cancer.  She was able to share with me and show me how over the years God had been so faithful to her and her family.  I thank God with all my heart for all these wonderful blessings He sent my way.

	I feel I have so much for which to be thankful.  I love my husband dearly.  How wonderful to have a Christian mate who has learned how to turn every situation over to his Lord.  So many men have to hold a drink in their hand to get through trying times, but my husband would simply go off to another room by himself, and get on his knees before God. As well, I have my darling little Jamie, whose ways are so precious to me.  He has the most endearing smile that lights up my heart as well as his face.

	On our summer vacation we also visited church in another city where our former assistant pastor now lived.  'Pastor Murray' had been so good to us when Jeff was sick.  His many, many visits
had been so much appreciated.  This story appeared in their church bulletin:

"I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord,
 and across the sky flashed scenes from my life.  For
 each scene I noticed two sets of footprints in the
 sand; one belonged to me, the other to the Lord.  When
 the last scene of my life flashed before us, I looked
 back at the footprints in the sand.  I noticed there
 was only one set of footprints.  I also noticed that it
 happened at the very lowest and saddest time in my life.
 I questioned the Lord about it.  "Lord, You said that
 once I decided to follow You, You would walk with me all
 the way.  But I have noticed that during the most trouble-
 some time in my life, there is only one set of footprints.
                               . .
I don't understand why in times when I needed You
most, You would leave."  The Lord replied, "My
precious child, I would never leave you during  -
your times of trial and suffering.  When you see
only one set of footprints, those were the times
when I was carrying you.  The footprints are Mine."

That expressed my feeling exactly.  When things got beyond any human help, I too had been gently carried and held by my Savior.

	Little Corey, Jeff's best friend, was also really feeling the loss.  I had gone through Jeff's belongings and toys, and prepared little 'goodbye gifts' from Jeff to his special playmates.  I also sent along a note with each present, telling the children how much Jesus loved them and that if they spent
their life serving Christ, they would certainly see Jeff again some day.  Corey wrote a little story about Jeff at school and brought it to us,  It was very precious. 

	Children have a unique way of relating to an adult in sorrow.  They are so honest and open in their own feelings, and it reminds me of how God's Word tells us to become as a little child with simple childlike faith.

	At Activity Club, Jeff had made a traffic signal as part of his craft work.  I have this taped to my frig door.  There are three scriptures on it in his own handwriting.  Under the red light he has printed, "STOP, be still and know that I am God," Psalm 46:10.  Under the yellow caution light is the scripture, "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength", Isaiah 40:31, and under the green signal is Psalm 71:16, "I will go in the strength of the lord".  This indicates to me the way Jeff lived his life.  To daily read these verses in Jeff's own writing is such a blessing to me.

	What frightens me most over losing Jeff is to realize that perhaps in years to come, we might forget some of the little things that made him so precious.  I want so much for all of us to remember Jeff and the love he so generously gave to all.  People have said to us, "I am a better person for having
known Jeff during his illness".  Others, young and old, have shared with us since Jeff's death the fact that the way in which he handled the situation by fully giving it all to Christ in simple faith, has had something to do with them consecrating their lives fully to God.  Then, once again, I understand why
God allowed this to happen to our family.  Somehow it makes me feel very proud to think Jeff has been used as a link in creating the beautiful bond of love we now feel in our assembly.  I believe our own lives have been enriched for having known and loved our son.
             
CHAPTER 23

	Every Christmas Jeff would comment, "Mommy, Jesus and me - our names both start with a J and our birthday's at the same time".  I wished I could say to him this year, "Yes honey, and this year you and Jesus can celebrate your birthdays together, but, oh sweetheart, we sure are going to miss you at our house!"  No one had enjoyed special occasions more than Jeff, especially Christmas.  He was always the one who got the rest of us excited.

	The first Christmas after Jeff died was very hard on Jamie.  He would sit watching special little Christmas cartoons on T V. and would suddenly just burst into tears.  He didn't know himself why this happened.  In all of his life, he had never even had to watch television alone.  Jeff had often sat in the big brown recliner chair with his arms cuddled around Jamie, or sometimes he sat on the carpet and Jamie would lay his head in Jeff's lap.  Now here sat Jamie, all by himself in the family
room, and he was desperately missing his brother.  We tried to be with him as much as possible, or let him share these times with a friend.

	About this time I took Jamie to our family doctor because of a throat infection, and while there, asked his advice as to how we should handle this.  He replied, "Joan, Jamie has to work out his grief in his own way.  All you can do is be there when he needs you and love him a lot".  Well, that was exactly what we'd been doing, along with asking God to help him and to give us wisdom daily in dealing with him.

	December 17th arrived - the day Jeff would have been celebrating his ninth birthday.  Once again I discovered how faithful God is.  The Flower Shop truck drove up our driveway and once again our friends expressed their love and concern in a tangible way.  The delivery man smiled at me, "This must be a special day at your house".  I thanked him, and as I was arranging the flowers in a vase I thought, "Yes sir, this is indeed a special day".  On my refrigerator is taped the verse, "This is the day that the Lord hath made.  We will rejoice and be glad in it".  December 17th , 1979 was indeed another day that the Lord had made, and I intended to try and rejoice in it. Phone calls were also plentiful that day - even from thousands of miles away.  Once again, I felt uplifted from other's prayers on my behalf.

	Jerry found the Sunday School Christmas Program one of the hardest things he had to deal with so far, because he said as he sat there, all he could see was Jeff's little face as he had looked the year before.  Jeff loved to participate in concerts and be on stage.  Also, that evening, his little cousin was
wearing a pair of Jeff's shoes we had given him, and that caught Jerry's eye.  I was quite involved musically with the concert and I guess that got me through without too much trouble. However, the following week I attended the Public School Concert and found this extremely difficult to handle and better understood then how Jerry had felt.  Jeff was always exuberant at functions such as these, and it hurt to realize he would never take part in another one.  I still find going to anything at Toniata School very difficult and hope some day this feeling will go away.

	We had a house full of people for Christmas evening and it was very enjoyable.  I must admit, when I had a few moments to myself in early afternoon, I allowed myself the luxury of a good cry.  Jamie had a really happy day and that was all either Jerry or I asked for this year.

	I'm so glad I serve a loving Heavenly Father who didn't just let something very difficult take place in my life without preparing me in such a beautiful way.  Also, after losing Jeff, there were so many times, people were sent my way to uplift and encourage.  We had a ladies banquet at our church and there was a lovely Christian mother who shared with us her story.  This dear lady was suffering from cancer, and she shared her testimony with us in a sweet way, telling us she was very much at peace and had placed her life as well as that of her family in the Father's hands.  She also shared a scene with us she had experienced following the death of her infant son.  Jesus Christ Himself had
appeared to her and as she looked at Him, worshipping Him, she felt so drawn to the being.  She said she could not express the feeling of love that radiated between them.  As she continued to gaze at Christ's face, a little child had come and stood at Jesus' side.  She said although there was no way she could take her eyes off the Savior's face, she knew, without a doubt, the child was her own son.  She again felt a tremendous surge of love go from Christ to the child as He placed His arm around the little one, and she knew then the great love and care her child was receiving.

	I felt sobs welling up from way down deep inside, and in my mind, I pictured a little, blonde, blue-eyed Jeffrey standing in that very spot beside Jesus.  It makes me so happy to realize there will be children in heaven.  God had, once again, sent just the right person to minister to my particular need.  Oh, the joy and peace that flooded my soul again that night:

	A friend delivered a beautiful plaque to our home a few weeks after we had lost Jeff.  There is a picture of Jesus in the lefthand corner, a cross in the middle, and a picture of a smiling Jeff on the right hand side.  Underneath the pictures is a lovely poem which our friend had engraved for us.  It
read as follows:

GOD'S PURPOSE

God had a place in Heaven,
A beautiful spot to fill.
So He searched the whole world over,
For two that were in His will.

God took some looks from mommy,
And a few more from dad.
Then He moulded them together,
And made Himself a lad.

Jeff was so sweet and very smart,
He knew that Jesus was in his heart.
Mom and dad - the family shared,
The little boy with the curly hair.

Yes, God even let them name him,
And keep him for a while.
Yes, He certainly had a purpose,
For sharing that sweet smile.

                                     Patricia Burns

The scripture engraved at the bottom of the plaque is from Psalm 119:89, "Forever, O Lord, Thy Word is settled in Heaven".
                              

CHAPTER 24

	Often, when I reflect on memories of the many precious hours I was allowed to spend with my son, one particular incident comes to my mind. It was a warm, muggy late afternoon in the summer of
Jeff's fifth year with us.  He was playing at a little friend's house down the street, when suddenly a ferocious thunderstorm struck without warning.  I ran to the front door and saw Jeff racing wildly down the street towards home.  He was frightened to death of thunderstorms and ran screaming into my wide open arms.  His little heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it through his shirt.  As I held him tightly and continued to quietly reassure him that he was alright, within a short time he calmed down because he knew he was completely safe in his mommy's arms. There have been so many times during my own lifetime that I have fled into the safety of my Heavenly Father's arms.  How good it is to have a "refuge in the time of storm".

	It is almost one year since Jeff has been gone from us. There are still many tears shed by his mommy, his daddy, and his brother.  We'll always miss him.  I still haven't even been able to buy his favorite ice cream when I visit the supermarket. Daily I continue to have to ask for strength from above to deal with life in general.  When strangers ask in the course of conversation, "How many children do you have?" I want to answer them by saying, "Jerry and I have two children, Jeff and Jamie.  The only difference is that Jeff now lives in heaven and Jamie lives in our earthly home."  Physical death has not altered the fact that Jeff is our son - he will always be our son.  He has just moved to a better life a little ahead of the rest of his family, but some day, we'll all be together again.

	As I complete the final chapter of my book, I can feel a life stirring within my body.  How I thank God that in a few short months, our new baby will be born.  As I feel each tiny kick, I thrill to know our Heavenly Father has seen fit, once more, to bless our home in this beautiful way.  When I
find myself wondering, as every expectant mother ever has - "Will this baby be alright?", I once again do the only thing I can.  I give the situation to the Heavenly Father and trust all will be well, just as I did throughout Jeff's illness.

	Realizing the awesome responsibility that is to once again be ours to raise a child to become a responsible person in society, I also feel a supreme joy at knowing the feeling of achievement that will come as I ask God's guidance and direction in helping me once again be the kind of mother He would have me be.

	We cannot help but be very happy with the name we gave our son.  In a book giving name descriptions, Jeffrey means "God's peace, brave".  Had we known what was to be in our newborn baby son's future, I do not feel we could have chosen a more appropriate name for him.

	Writing this book is, I must confess, the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.  Countless tears have fallen from my eyes as I sat at the typewriter and had to recount the many painful situations which have taken place in my family's life during the past two and a half years.  Scenes became very vivid in my mind once again - scenes I wanted only to try and forget.  However, I somehow would have felt extremely selfish had I not tried to share Jeff's sweet, simple faith in the way in which he, himself, expressed it. Also, I felt it was very important to share with others how Christ does sustain during trying and unbearable times.

	The last day I worked on the typing of the book, I went alone to the cemetery.  As I knelt at my son's grave, I wept.  Engraved on Jeffrey's plaque are the figures of children, sitting and standing beside Jesus - the same Jesus who said in Mark 10:15, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God".  My heart cried out to God that day, and my fervent prayer as I knelt there was that He would somehow use the book sharing Jeffrey's story to touch many lives for Him   I hope that, in some small way, I have been able to help another parent who
has to go through sorrow and having to learn to somehow make a new life for themselves and their family.  There is nothing else in life that I want, except to know that each member of my family is in the center of God's perfect will .

	Once again, I thank God from the bottom of my heart for the very "SPECIAL GIFT" He allowed us to keep for over eight beautiful years.  With all sincerity, I can say from the very depths of my soul, 'GOD IS SO GOOD, HE'S SO GOOD TO ME'.





END                   May 1980.


In August of 1980, the following announcement appeared
in the Brockville Recorder and Times newspaper:

McMILLAN - With grateful hearts, Joan, Jerry, and Jamie
thank God for the special gift He has sent to share in the
love of their home.  Jonathan Terry, 7 lbs. 11 oz., was born
at the Brockville General Hospital on August 9th, 1980.
Thanks to Doctors Ng, Lindsay, and Dunn, Nurse
Nancy Bresee and all nursing staff for their
excellent care.