At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in to from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They left the cemetery after Jesus' resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people. Matthew 27:50-57
Faith looks beyond the grave, but grief blinds the eyes. Imagine a darkness so black you cant' see your hand in front of you.
The narrow dirt road seemed to lead to nowhere in the darkness. Keith and I had arrived in Auburn Indiana about ten o'clock that evening. Crisp, almost spring air had turned cold. Mid March is like that. My Jeep trudged it's way along as we looked to the right for another obscure dirt road that would lead us to hope. Hope in the fashion of a humble Amish man who based his practice of holistic health on faith, herbs, iradology and kinetics. His word of mouth reputation was legendary.
After Keith's diagnosis in 2005, he underwent surgery to remove 40% of his liver. The tumor had been large and invaded the vascular portions of the liver.
"We believe we got all of it," the surgeon said.
Pathology reports would confirm this two long weeks later. Keith's appointment would come just hours after I had attended my best friend's funeral. Fear nauseated me. Through this ordeal, I refrained from showing my fear so not to worry my son more. However, today, I could smell my fear literally. Perspiration drenched my clothes and I wondered how I might hold myself together, and Keith, if the news was bad. "All of the pathology is clean”, the doctor informed us. My ears buzzed with relief and I almost didn't hear the "however". "Vascular invasion". It was this "however" that led us to the back roads of Auburn Indiana in the dark of night.
"That's the road!" Keith said. The dirt road, more like a path stretched to the right. The Jeep bobbed and dipped in the ruts leading us into what looked to be a forest of black. Faint lights could be seen in the distance as though the trees were haunted. Instead, on closer inspection, they were lamps in the windows of the Amish homes. We arrived in front of the address we had been searching for.
Yes, this is the house." Keith said.
It was now March of 2007. Keith had made this journey the year before in November of 2006, three months after we learned that the cancer had returned in the lymph nodes. Nothing but aggressive chemotherapy would help we were told. On the morning that Keith was to have a port placed for the chemo treatments, he got up early, showered and dressed. When it was time to leave, he got up from his chair, put his hand on the doorknob and paused. He stood there for maybe a minute, turned and sat back down in his chair. He never left for the appointment. Instead, he embarked on a journey of faith, courage and holistic treatment.
He returned home from Indiana that November of '06 with numerous herbs and a cancer diet free of dairy, meat protein, sugar, and aluminum products. His military discipline would come in handy to be able to stick with this regimen. He was scheduled to return to Indiana after four months of diet, juicing and herbs. And here we were, forty pounds lighter, four months later. Sitting in the dark of night. Keith's appointment wasn't till the next day. We would return in the dark of morning to this same place to find out if the regimen had been successful.
After we found our route for our early morning trek, we turned to go to our hotel. I stopped on the side of the road, opened the moon roof and turned off the ignition and lights. The dark was overpowering. But the stars were brilliant. We sat in silence and looked at the stars. Minuscule lights in utter darkness.
