Anger at God fires a stronger faith

It's easy for parents of critically and terminally ill children to become so angry with God that they lash out at the Church and everything connected with it.

Michele Houde certainly understands such emotions. Watching her infant daughter endure the agony of cancer-related treatments a few years ago, her faith was put to the acid test.

At first, the devoted Catholic mother wondered how a loving, just God could inflict such suffering upon an innocent child. It's almost instinctive, she says in retrospect, to blame God for your heartache and to demand that your child be healed -- or else.

Scars into stars

Rather than giving in to these negative feelings, Michele, who hails from the Albany Diocese and now lives in New Hampshire, somehow found the strength to transform her daughter's "scars into stars."

Together with her husband Peter, she planted the seed of what eventually blossomed into the Childhood Cancer Lifeline of New Hampshire, a non-profit organization created to serve both the emotional and practical needs of families whose children are battling -- or have survived -- cancer.

A branch of the national Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation, CCL is completely staffed by volunteers who know first-hand the trauma a family faces when a child is diagnosed with one of the many forms of pediatric cancer.

Fear and trembling

"At first, I felt scared and alone," recalls Mrs. Houde, of her

own harrowing experience. "I have since discovered that, by the grace of God, we are never truly alone."

One of the things that most frightened her in the first weeks after Rebekkah was diagnosed as having neuroblastoma, a deadly form of cancer that typically strikes the sympathetic nervous system of children ages birth to five years, was that she wouldn't survive the ordeal with her faith intact.

Up until that time, Mrs. Houde (whose last name was Shutts when she attended Mass at St. John The Evangelist Church in Schenectady as a youth) considered her faith to be unshakable.

"Suddenly, I worried that if I lost Rebekkah, I'd lose my faith," she recalled; "and if I lost my faith, I'd be left with nothing. Once my eyes were opened to the fact that God's plan for Rebekkah's life on earth might not be the same plan I had for her, things became easier to bear. I knew I had to trust in God -- no matter what the outcome. With that acceptance of God's will came the strength I needed to survive the long road ahead."

Times of turmoil

Not only was the road long, but it was also full of nasty potholes, twists, turns, detours and delays.

Weighing in at 7 lbs., 15 oz. when she made her worldly debut on June 15, 1992, Rebekkah appeared to be the picture of health. It was, insists her mother, a miracle of sorts that led her to notice a lump in Rebekkah's neck when she was just a week old.

"I'm not one to turn on the television to watch the news at 6 o'clock in the morning," she said, "but on the day in question, Rebekkah had awakened early. I just happened to flick on the TV while I was nursing her. At that exact moment, a story was being aired about a 17-month-old child who had died from cancer. As incredible as it sounds, I looked down at Rebekkah and saw what was clearly a lump in her neck. Peter and I had Rebekkah in the pediatrician's office by 9 that morning."

In what was to be the first of many unfortunate wrong turns, the pediatrician dismissed the lump as a benign cyst that would go away before Rebekkah's first birthday.

"Basically, we were told not to worry and sent on our way," recalls Mrs. Houde.

Still there

Several weeks later, while visiting a relative in Florida, Michele mustered the courage to peek at Rebekkah's neck, hoping to find that the supposedly harmless cyst had diminished in size or disappeared completely. Instead, to her horror, she discovered what she describes as a "huge jagged mass" just under her baby's skin.

"I cried for an hour, and at 6:30 a.m. I woke my grandmother up," she said. "By 7 a.m, we were in the emergency ward of a hospital in St. Petersburg. They said the same thing I'd been told in New Hampshire -- that unless the lump was red or hot or swollen, there was no need to worry."

But at Rebekkah's eight-week checkup, an ultrasound revealed the presence of a solid, and quite possibly malignant, tumor. Michele and Peter rushed her to Boston Children's Hospital, where tests confirmed the couple's worst fears. The next morning, Rebekkah underwent four-hour surgery during which a lethal cancerous growth was removed from her neck.

After-effects

The result was complete vocal chord paralysis and an inability to swallow -- even her own saliva. Fearing the cancer had already spread, the surgeon performed a bone marrow biopsy to see whether the disease had progressed. It had not. For the next three days, Rebekkah remained in ICU, her parents beside her in constant prayer.

"The picture I'll never forget is that of Rebekkah lying there with tubes and IVs," her mother said. "She was crying, but there was no noise because of the damage to her vocal chords."

During what stretched into a two-and-a-half-week stay in the hospital with Rebekkah, Michele sometimes sensed the comforting presence of her recently deceased mother, Sandra.

"My mother died of ovarian cancer just six months before Rebekkah was born," Mrs. Houde reported. "During her final weeks, she often spoke about her angel being nearby. I know how much Rebekkah's pending birth meant to my mother, and I've often wondered if perhaps God has allowed her to watch over her first granddaughter as some kind of an angel herself. I truly believe that Rebekkah's guardian angel is responsible for my spotting the tumor that morning after tuning into that news report. It had to be more than just coincidence."

More worry

The Houdes still live with the fact that although Rebekkah is cancer-free, she is not considered cancer-cured.

"We've been told that if the cancer comes back, it will do so with a vengeance. Neuroblastoma is not a disease that cures easily," she explained. "What sustains us is the knowledge that God alone is all-powerful. He alone decides how long Rebekkah is to be with us and when she will be called home to Heaven."

Meanwhile, Rebekkah has grown into an outgoing four-year-old who enjoys the company of two younger sisters, Grace, two, and Madelyn, two months. Homeschooled by her mother, Rebekkah socializes with her peers at weekly dance and ice skating classes as well as before and after services at St. Marie's Roman Catholic Parish in Manchester, New Hampshire.

For a long time following Rebekkah's surgery, it was thought she would never regain the ability to speak and arrangements were made to teach her to communicate using sign language. But then Rebekkah began to form words. Although she has developed an impressive vocabulary, twice-weekly speech therapy lessons are needed to assist with her impairment.

Blessings

Despite all of this, Michele and Peter feel abundantly blessed and want to do all they can to lend support and encouragement to other parents who need a "lifeline" because of a childhood cancer experience.

"We do not want to see another family flounder through the system the way we did during the year that followed Rebekkah's cancer diagnosis," Mrs. Houde said. "It was during that time that we so desperately needed support. We searched our state but came up empty. In fact, it was a long 14 months before we met anyone else who had a child with cancer. People need to know that they are not alone, and that services and support are out there -- if they just know where to look."

The Houdes' efforts, combined with those of three other mothers of pediatric cancer victims, have not been in vain. With the backing of Ronald McDonald's Children's Charities, they have established programs that provide services ranging from house-cleaning to grocery gift certificates and meal vouchers for parents while their children are hospitalized. Other services include support groups, telephone partners, books and articles on cancer treatments, home-cooked meals, child care and visits.

(Families who want to learn more about the Childhood Cancer Lifeline may write to Michele Houde at PO Box 7463, Nashua, New Hampshire, 03060-7473, or call 603-424-7594. You may also wish to check out the organization's web site at http://www.granitewebworks.com/lifeline.htm.)

(11-21-96) [[In-content Ad]]