In the midst of Christmas feasts and wrapping paper and “Jingle Bells,” a word broke into our world, a nightmare for any parent: tumor. A CT scan and MRI confirmed that our 8-year-old son had a mass on his collar bone. But the doctor could tell us nothing more. There was no peace on earth for us. We waited. And in the waiting, I wrestled with a familiar fear that had morphed from a small monster hidden under my son’s bed to a horrid kind of superhero who threatened my world. It was the spiritual elephant in my life that …
