A week ago today my brother Steve had surgery to remove the tumor - and the lower lobe of his left lung. They were able to do a video-assisted surgery which meant that all of this was done through 3 slits in his side. The surgery itself took just over 2 hours. By Friday afternoon, just 57 hours after being admitted, Steve was on his way home - in a great deal of pain, but on his way home. He is now home and healing - and he is even teaching a class this week!

He had half of lung removed and amazingly life goes on. I honestly don't know what I thought was going to happen. It seems like a Stage IV cancer diagnosis or having surgeons removing part of the organ that allows you to breathe should stop everything. But it doesn't.

Steve's surgery was on July 20th. July 21st was the two year anniversary of my dear friend Liz Colligan ending her wrestling with breast cancer just days after her 37th birthday. I still can hear her laugh - she had a beautiful, infectious laugh. She loved fiercely. She fought to make memories and multiply the moments with her husband and her two little boys with all of us that she loved. And she fought...with courage and grace that still can bring me to tears. Liz died...and time went on. My little brother has this crazy surgery and life goes on - and is the same and changed all at once.

I can't see around the corner with this. But witnessing Steve move through this season is already changing me. Time doesn't stop just because the surgery is done. He is moving on with more painful breaths and more hope. How do pain and fear dwell simultaneously with an abiding, confident hope?