Horn Family Update #4

“…and {I} slipped into the back of the church to sit and think. Not so much to pray as to take time to be.”

- Madeleine L’Engle, Two-Part Invention

Being present is hard.

As if two trains were hurtling toward the same crossing, much of life is lived at the intersection of seemingly contradictory realities.

Our latest update embodies this tension.

Hilary is healing—slowly, but surely. She’s off most of her initial medications and is beginning to take longer walks around the backyard. Though she still struggles to find the right words at times, she’s becoming more herself. By all intents and purposes, she is exactly where she should be in her recovery.

At the same time, our first meeting at Fred Hutch is scheduled for one of two possible dates over the next two weeks (depending on when the lab results come in). During that appointment, we’ll learn what type of cancer she has, how aggressive it is, and what treatment will look like moving forward.

We’d appreciate your prayers as we sit in this strange place—healing from one major event while also preparing for whatever news lies ahead. (Also, know that we have not told the boys yet. Our hope is to wait until we have an official prognosis and a plan in place.)

I’ll share another update after our appointment. If you missed the update on Hilary’s return home, you can find it here. If you missed the update on the surgery, you can find it here. And if you missed how we got here in the beginning, you can find that update here.

“The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects...is to succumb to violence.”

- Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

It would seem that, like Bradley Cooper in Limitless, you’re most aware of your surroundings when you're operating at your most efficient. But I’m not sure that’s true.

A few days ago, as Hilary took her first steps through our backyard, she paused for a moment, running her hand over the new growth in our garden. Then she simply remarked, “I must have missed this one.” She had discovered a baby dahlia, just beginning to emerge from its slumber.

Admittedly, I have little to do with our garden. I couldn’t tell you how long it’d been there. But I guess it’s more about the premise than the picture.

Being present is hard.

Pre-everything going on, I had mentioned to Hilary that it felt like we'd mysteriously entered a new phase of parenting. It's like the Bermuda Triangle of parenthood—but instead of lost ships and missing sea captains, it's the disappearance of free time, disposable income, and any illusion that your calendar belongs to you. (Let's just say I've thought about jumping ship more than once.)

So take my words as those of a fellow traveler trying to navigate these same murky waters. This sudden pause in our lives has caused me to rethink my relationship with time. Like finding the optimal pace during a workout—where you’re pushing yourself but can still hold a conversation—I'm learning to ask a different question: How do I live at a pace that allows me to notice the new growth all around?

It’s ironic. I wrote a book about this. I’ll admit: it feels like a lifetime ago. My career was different. The kids were much younger. My writing wasn’t as good—but I guess that’s how these things go. (Your best chance of finding a copy is probably on the shelves of your local Goodwill.)

But the tension I felt then still endures. I felt hurried, and exhausted by a life with no rhythm or boundaries. So I wrote to find a way forward.

As with most things in life, we succeeded in some ways—and in others, the struggle remains. The battle for presence is less a straight line than a circle. You never really cross a finish line. You simply oscillate between varying levels of focus and distraction.

It reminds me of a book I once read titled Preaching as Reminding. The premise is exactly what it sounds like: the best sermons rarely tell us something new. If you ever hear something brand new at church, it should probably cause some concern. The truths we most need are often reminders of things we’ve long forgotten: how to rest in a season that robs your sleep, how to recover when all you want to do is run, how to remember when life was a tad simpler—and the schedule a little less full.

I wish our current circumstances weren’t what brought us back here. But while we’re here, we’ve decided to redig some old wells.

We’re relearning the simplicity of holding hands with no expiration date. The quiet of lingering around the dinner table without screens. The beauty of taking a few slow laps around the backyard simply to see what new growth is emerging.

A slower, more sustainable pace.

It was Sunday, when we typically go to church. Because of Hilary’s recovery, we all watched online. Toward the end of the service, our lead pastor asked everyone to grab communion elements. If this is a strange ritual to you—I get it. Stale crackers and seemingly expired grape juice to celebrate a resurrected Savior can seem a little odd.

Nonetheless, I wanted to commemorate the moment together. I rushed to our fridge. No grape juice. So I grabbed the last remnants of juice we had—a sliver of orange juice left behind by my elementary-aged boys, who are increasingly resembling college roommates. With no wafers, I reached for the nearest thing I could find: stale tostada shells.

As you can imagine, the boys lost it laughing. And Hilary, who still has some memory issues, looked at me like I was the one who had just had brain surgery. Nonetheless, I prayed over these leftover elements, and we received them as though we were at the Last Supper with Christ himself.

Then something unexpected happened.

I began to cry.

Yes, with old tostadas and orange juice on my breath, I was probably one step away from adding an adult beverage and really making it a party.

Something about the oddness of the moment resonated deep within me. I was reminded that God, in his grace and mercy, takes our seemingly small, unconventional offerings and makes them beautiful.

We don’t have all the time in the world right now. Hurry and stress are my default operating mode. But my life doesn’t need to be perfectly arranged for God to meet me there.

Presence—not perfection.1

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For those who have asked how they can bring us a meal: a close friend created a Meal Train for our family. We have been overwhelmed by the love and care shown to us, and this is simply one practical way to walk alongside our family in this season. You can find it here.

* We recently added more dates to the Meal Train and spread them out to better support our family throughout the long process ahead.

For those who have asked how they can follow along: I’ll share more updates as we have them. If you’d like to receive them, you can subscribe below. I should mention that I also share other things from time to time—usually about once a month. And, of course, you can always unsubscribe later!

For those who've followed along for a while, I also write about pop culture—alongside my meanderings on faith and coaching football. Hilary's been feeling up for a few more shows lately, so here are a few things we've enjoyed.

• Widow’s Bay (Apple TV+) - Matthew Rhys has been absolutely incredible in this small-town tale about a seemingly cursed island with a quirky community. I’ve most enjoyed the mashup of humor and horror. While I’m not a horror guy, this show wasn’t scary enough to keep me from watching, but it still kept me on the edge of my seat.

• The Bear Season 5 (Disney+/Hulu) - I’ll admit: this one’s playing the hits at this point. Without giving away spoilers, reconciliation is at the heart of the season. In one sense, it has lost the fastball that made those early seasons so compelling. But on the other hand, as someone who personally needed a little less craziness, I loved seeing good things happen to characters we’ve been walking with for the past few years.

• The Agency Season 2 (Paramount+) - For watching purposes, this one’s almost the exact opposite of The Bear. It’s slow, drawn out, with numerous characters in a world that is wide. Rather than unfolding in a single location, it hops across the globe, repeatedly making you wonder: What was the budget for this? My favorite development this season was seeing Jeffrey Wright finally get to cook. If you like spy thrillers, you’ll enjoy this one.