His Eye is on the sparrow
by Marilyn Schroeder

In December of 1994, almost a year after her death, the headlines showed yet one more snapshot of Sue Rodriguez entitled "Final Relief". She was a young woman stricken with Lou Gehrig's disease who went through many legal battles to gain the right to die a doctor-assisted death. She never won her court battles, but she did win the battle of life and death by dying prematurely according to her wishes. The controversy that she stirred in our country left the ominous cloud of legalized euthanasia hanging over us. As far as I was concerned, the issue was black and white. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh--end of discussion.

Ironically the "discussion" was only about to begin for us. In December of 1994 our six-year-old son's cancer turned, and my husband and I were faced with the most agonizing decision we had ever encountered in our 13 years of marriage. We had to decide how our terminally ill son should be treated. There were three options before us: three more years of chemotherapy (he had already completed three years, only to relapse); a bone marrow transplant (with an unrelated donor match); or alternative health methods which were not endorsed by the medical profession.

The chemotherapy route was quickly discarded, as we felt the first three years had been an obvious failure. The bone marrow transplant was strongly recommended by the team of oncologists, but we had become too aware of the many risks involved. The severe, whole-body radiation required in a transplant of this nature could not only seriously damage vital organs but could also produce secondary cancers down the road. Furthermore, the unrelated donor match would inevitably cause graft-vs-host disease (that is, rejection of the new bone marrow by the body of the patient); this could cause much suffering and leave the patient with lifelong disabilities. If this were not daunting enough, the final straw was the very real possibility that the transplant would not "take" and our son would die. It was unsettling to commit ourselves to that route. The option of abandoning Western conventional medicine and pursuing alternative health methods offered the only hope of painless treatment. It was tempting, but treatment of children was not well documented. We knew of only two children who had been treated with health remedies alone, and both had died.

Taking control

Since none of the options facing us could guarantee a cure, we had to consider the very real likelihood that our son could die. With that thought uppermost in our minds, our greatest desire was to spare him as much suffering as possible. Suddenly, in the blink of that first fateful blood test, we were cast into the same arena that Sue Rodriguez had battled in. If death were imminent, how should we make our decision? The path of least resistance, of least suffering became our all- consuming goal. To refuse conventional medical treatment and choose only "healthy" or "natural" alternatives would be to avoid the inevitable suffering of an unrelated transplant. It would not, however, necessarily prevent death. On the other hand, death, one could argue, would only put our son out of his misery and into the hands of God. We became willing to make a medical decision based solely on our fear of pain. Unlike Sue Rodriguez, we weren't choosing death, but in our choosing we were seeking to wrestle back some degree of control over the circumstances of life. And isn't that what doctor-assisted suicide and euthanasia really are? "Dying with dignity" is simply a politically correct term for "the elimination of suffering". It is society's illusion of "taking control" of our own lives.

Light on our path

How difficult it is to see another human being suffer. To see one's child suffer is to feel that one has been cast into a bottomless pit of despair where there is no rhyme or reason or God. There is only lonely darkness. Yet Psalm 139:11-12 says, "If I say, 'surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You." In our darkness, God's light began to reveal a path for us. His Word admonished us to be still and know God (Psalm 46:10). As we decided to make that our instinctive reflex, we began to see signposts that God was setting along our path to guide us.

The first one occurred in the medical establishment. From reading many "health" books, we had developed a bias against the present-day humanistic medical system. Sensing an increasing prevalence of new age spiritualism within the hospitals, we were doubtful that God would choose a path for us that way. To our surprise, we soon discovered that the chief oncologist on Andrew's case was a committed Christian. He openly gave glory to God by agreeing with us that only God could heal Andrew, and he encouraged us with Scripture. When several other doctors on different occasions gave glory to God in much the same way, we began to sense that God was perhaps directing us toward a transplant after all.

Another confirmation of this was the approval of our parents, who had also spent much time on their knees. God's Word also was speaking to us in our dilemma, and deliverance from death was a recurring theme in our daily quiet times.

The amazing miracle in all this was that an unrelated donor had been found at the very onset of Andrew's relapse. He matched as perfectly as existing technology could confirm.

In the hands of God

When we had finally given our assent to the transplant, hoping against hope that deliverance could come in some other, less painful way, the Lord laid His hand on us in yet another specific and dramatic way.

It was a drizzly spring day, and we had promised the boys a trip to Science World before taking Andrew to the hospital for one of his treatments. As we drove through the city, we suddenly found our van skidding on a slick hill that was intersected by a busy, four-lane thoroughfare. Noon-hour traffic was rushing before us as we catapulted into its midst. Immediately bearing down on our left was a brand new Kenworth truck pulling two oil tankers. I could only cry out "Dear God!" as he hit us with a deafening roar and sent us spinning across the remaining three lanes of traffic. We came to a thudding stop on the grassy curb and looked up to see four lanes of traffic halted in a deathless hush. I wept aloud as I saw that we were all still alive with not a broken bone in our bodies.

God had spoken to us with a flawlessly engineered collision. The tanker had impacted the only corner of our mini-van that was unoccupied. The back windows where Andrew was sitting had all shattered except the one closest to his face. That one remained intact. Had we arrived on the scene one second sooner, we would have been broadsided by traffic in the next lane. One second later would have brought us certain death under the wheels of the massive rig. As it is, we managed to avoid three lanes of traffic altogether, and were only nicked in the rear corner where the least damage would be done.

We know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God's eye is on us. He has a purpose for Andrew which we may never fully know. But we can be still and know God. If we seek Him, we will receive wisdom to make right decisions, we will see His grace abound and unfold in miraculous ways, and we will be able to say--perhaps falteringly at first--"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Marilyn Schroeder is a member of South Abbotsford MB Church in Abbotsford, B.C. Andrew received his new bone marrow from an unrelated 39-year-old man on May 19, 1995. The operation was successful, and Andrew is doing well.

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