Last time I checked, it is about the same latitude as our hometown and about the same elevation too. And if that’s true, then I would not expect Memphis to look anything like this (taken last night):

At least we’re not in Texas, I guess? We do have power, thank you Lord…although Memphis did just issue a boil water advisory until Monday afternoon. I plan to bring Henry for muscle and Charlotte for attitude to the grocery store tomorrow to fight for our share of bottled water.

The snow started Sunday morning and continued lightly until mid-Monday morning. Then it dumped for the rest of the day and we ended up with about 6”. The forecast for Wednesday into early Thursday morning was for another round of anywhere from 1-3” to 2-4” depending on when and where you get your forecasts. After all was said and done last night, round 2 delivered more than round 1 and there’s more than 12” on the ground. With temps constantly below, mostly way below, freezing, none of it has melted. It’s made for a different week and one full of memories. For a bunch of southern kids, this is the snow of a lifetime.

Thanks to lots of generous neighbors, now friends, our kids were outfitted properly for the experience. Despite the massive haul we brought out here from home, the optimistically purchased used snow gear did not make the packing cut. Clockwise from top left: Mommy and Charlotte walking in Memphis. Jennings, aka the Green T-Rex (his sledding name), ripping down the golf course. Smallish bear mostly in it for the snacks, like every other activity….so much so that she will risk frostbite on her fingers with a smile on her face. Henry on the hunt for a sled and a hill.

Under normal circumstances I would not be leaving the house in an epic event like this. School is absolutely canceled, offices are most likely closed, so there would be no where to go. But, the reason we are here in Memphis does not get the luxury of being called off or canceled. As mentioned in the last post, we chose to start the Venetoclax / Azacitidine treatment again and Aza is a once-a-day infusion of chemo for 7 days. So everyday this week, we’ve been crunching and sliding and sloshing our way to campus. The drives have looked like a combination of this. Every. Single. Trip.

Clockwise from top left again: Driving home Wednesday afternoon in the heavy part of round 2. On campus earlier Wednesday when round 2 was just starting to re-cover the few areas scraped clear. View of I-40 from an overpass on Wednesday…the once semi-cleared lanes slowly disappearing beneath a fresh blanket of white. Picture of the plow mounds on campus Tuesday…yes, those are shadows from sunshine, sunshine that managed to get the outside air temp all the way up to about 18 deg.

God has protected us each day and we have made it to / from the Jude without incident. We are so thankful that Jennings and I decided to drive out here initially, otherwise we would not have had a 4-wheel drive vehicle to get around. On Monday afternoon, you could have taken your pick of 2-wheel drive abandoned cars all over the roads.

Speaking of Monday, we made the call to push the transplant. As Jennings was in his pre-procedure room getting prepped for an MRI, we had a conference call with Dr. Rubnitz and Dr. Talleur. We had pretty much made up our minds to delay the transplant from admittance on 2/17 to 3/3, but we wanted to hear them say again that it is a good option. Say that they did and so we finalized the decision.

Right after the call ended, it was time for “sleepy juice.” No matter how many sedations he undergoes, it never gets easy watching him be put under. He fights the drug every time, eyes rolling around in his head refusing to shut, limbs flopping around desperately trying to remain in control, generally requiring another burst of propofol through his line to seal the deal.

Afterwards, I went and sat by a cafeteria window watching the snow fall beautifully covering the campus of St. Jude. I had the image of him going under in my head and thought of how it is a picture of us as we realize we are utterly helpless in the face of our circumstances. The impulse is to fight, but that is only sustainable for so long. Surrender must come. That is where we find ourselves after talking with Jeff and Aimee. We want to maintain control - input into the situation, but we come to the end of our questions and the end of their answers. We will delay the transplant. There is no way to know if this is the “right” decision. We have arrived there with the best information we have available. Now we turn it fully over to God.

In a turn of weather-related events, his admission date moved again late Monday. Due to impacts to travel and schedules for other patients, March 3rd was no longer an option. Our choices were next Wednesday, 2/24 or 3/8. Our guts were already a little hesitant about pushing out to 3/3 (hence the extra conference call), so 3/8 was not an option we were going to entertain. Aimee advised against it anyway, so we are now confirmed for admission for transplant on 2/24. In many ways, that development is a huge blessing from the Lord. Jennings will be able to finish the full Azacitidine cycle (last dose tomorrow) and we will be able to get a BMA in on Monday to evaluate his marrow one more time before transplant. All of this without waiting any “extra” days. Days where nothing would be happening, leaving an opening for an aggressive AML to make a run for it.

You can pray for several things upcoming:

• MRD negative with no detectable disease on Monday

• His potential fungal infection in his lungs to resolve itself completely or stay in check during transplant

• For a smooth transition into inpatient life and for the other 3 transitioning to school (they have each only been 1 day since starting due to holidays & weather)

We realize control of our circumstances is gone, the burst of propofol in the form of nothing left to ask having taken full effect. It was a ruse to begin with, but one that we tend to cling to. As we submit to God in this, we raise a hallelujah. Whether for Jennings here on this earth or not, death is surely defeated. The King is alive.

I have a feeling I will not forget sitting at that table, listening to worship songs, watching the snow fall. How I will remember it, I cannot say. That story is still being written. But I pray that I can look back and say, as Brandon Lake’s song “Graves into Gardens” says, it was a moment where mourning was being turned into dancing.

#allinforjennings