This was not a good week for news. Early in the week we were told that, with the amount of cranial and total body radiation Nathan was receiving, it was an absolute certainty that he would suffer some degree of diminished cognitive functioning. He's young and healthy so we hoped it would be minimal. We were told it would likely effect his ability to focus and change his personality. It was impossible to know to what degree.

I tried to get used to the idea of the possibility of my relationship with my best friend changing and prepared to go back to school in case I needed to support our family. Nathan said the last time we were home, as he held our kids, he realized that they wouldn't care if he wasn't as sharp as he had been. They would only care that he was still around. Then we had more bad news.

Even after all the extra chemo and radiation, cancer cells were still found in Nathan's spinal fluid and the CT scan showed that his tumors had grown, one had doubled in size, in the last month. The doctors felt that the chances of a stem cell transplant curing Nathan of cancer were so slim they suggested we forgo the transplant in order for Nathan to go home and spend time with our family. A very generous estimate for the time we would have was between six and twelve months, but most likely it would be much faster. Suddenly, any amount of brain damage or graft vs host disease didn't seem to matter.

The doctor told us he was going to talk to more attendings to see if they had any ideas and also look for clinical studies Nathan might be eligible for.

Nathan and I didn't want to give up. However, we've already spent three months away from the kids and a transplant would be at least three more. Nathan was concerned about spending the rest of the time he has in the hospital and not with the kids. To remedy this we are trying to find ways to have our kids come to Seattle, either to live with us or just to visit on the weekends.

Neither of us slept that night. At 6:30 I took a walk and then went to the meditation room of our building. I prayed and pleaded to the Lord to have compassion and show mercy upon our family. It was shocking to go from an 80% chance to not really a chance at all.

We decided to go home for one last weekend. That is exactly what was needed. When we walked into the house Norah ran to me crying. I picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around me and kissed me all over my face as she continued to cry and say "My Mom, my mom, you're home." At first it was bitter sweet. I wanted to somehow bottle up being together, playing in the back yard as a family, going to Derek's soccer game or all of us being in the same van. I wanted to freeze time. It was so hard to enjoy being together knowing that it might be the last. I kept reminding myself not to let the uncertainty of the future rob from the joys of the present.

But we are so lucky. We are surrounded by a caring family, good friends and a loving ward. Today we have been fasting for a miracle. The night Nathan was diagnosed Bishop Kruetz and Brother Howard visited us in the ER. They gave us both blessings and they both mentioned miracles. So far all we have had is bad news. It's time to have that miracle.

All we need is for Nathan's spinal fluid to be clear. There is a possibility that the cells they found were no longer viable. They have warned us that if there is even just one remaining cell, it will multiply and take over. The new donor cells won't likely breach the spinal column barrier to fight the cancer as it hopefully will in the rest of Nathan's body. So this is the miracle we are praying for: that somehow Nathan's spinal fluid will be free from cancer.

We loved the feeling of being at church today. We had planned on only going to sacrament meeting so we could spend more time as a family, but being there felt so good we stayed for all three hours. After, we drove to the temple and had a family meeting on the back lawn. When it was time to leave, as soon as we got to the gate, Norah stopped and started crying. She said she didn't want to leave the temple. The times Nathan and I have gone to the temple I have left feeling so peaceful, confident and happy. I knew everything was going to be okay. I think one aspect of faith is to remember and trust those feelings even when things seem dark.

Nathan and I both feel like going through with the transplant is the right decision. I feel that Nathan can be made whole. We believe that miracles can happen. From the beginning I have felt that Nathan's cancer is part of Heavenly Father's plan. I knew that the outcome was totally up to Him and I resigned myself to accept what ever may come. But I feel that everything will be okay. I keep reminding myself that if this were easy, it wouldn't be a miracle.

Thank you, everyone, who is praying and fasting with us. Your love and prayers sustain us. I know Heavenly Father is listening and that your prayers and fasting make a difference. There is no way I will ever be able to thank you for what you are doing for our family.

 15 And now, O all ye that have imagined up unto yourselves a god who can do ^ano miracles, I would ask of you, have all these things passed, of which I have spoken? Has the end come yet? Behold I say unto you, Nay; and God has not ceased to be a God of miracles.

 16 Behold, are not the things that God hath wrought marvelous in our eyes? Yea, and who can comprehend the marvelous ^aworks of God?

 17 Who shall say that it was not a miracle that by his ^aword the heaven and the earth should be; and by the power of his word man was ^bcreated of the ^cdust of the earth; and by the power of his word have miracles been wrought?

 18 And who shall say that Jesus Christ did not do many mighty^a miracles? And there were many ^bmighty miracles wrought by the hands of the apostles.

 19 And if there were ^amiracles wrought then, why has God ceased to be a God of miracles and yet be an unchangeable Being? And behold, I say unto you he ^bchangeth not; if so he would cease to be God; and he ceaseth not to be God, and is a God of miracles.