It has been two months since Shepherd rang the bell to celebrate the end of chemotherapy. On faith we chose to have the ceremony on the same day we would hear the results of his scans. Uncertain if we would be acknowledging the end of only our first attempt to rout the disease from his body or if we were really victorious. Moments before we were scheduled to walk out to the friends and family who came to join us, the news came. Shepherd’s body was cancer-free! I felt the muscles in my chest relax, as Ashley started to cry. I held a camera on Shepherd as we walked out of the familiar clinic hallway, while it felt like I was floating above my body.

The nurses had warned us that a mob was waiting but there is just no preparing for a moment like that. I’ve seen an account on Instagram of a guy who films baseball players rounding the bases after a home run because he thinks arriving at home plate to your screaming teammates is what Heaven will be like. I think my experience that day was better. The friends who helped carry us through this journey filled the waiting room with their families, and our friend made shirts for the army of kids tearing through the halls with scoreboards on them reading Shep 1 - Cancer 0. Co-workers showed up to support, family traveled in just for the day, nurses came from all over Seattle Children’s to see the boy they grew to love, his doctors and specialists were there, and I will forever be changed.

Just days before, we had another celebration at our house to acknowledge his last day of chemo. Even more friends showed up for that one. If you have been following along this journey, you may recall that at the very beginning we had a Willms Team Meeting. We talked about what was happening to Shep’s body, and came up with some ways that we were going to face this as a family. Then we drew a mountain on our chalkboard and marked the path we would have to take, with 15 checkpoints for each round of chemo and his surgery. You also may recall that halfway through this journey the kitchen had to be remodeled, so that chalkboard was taken off the wall and wrapped in plastic. Truth be told, we are still putting some things back together, but that meant we were able to bring the chalkboard outside for the party, and everyone cheered as Shep marked the last stage and summited the “Beat Cancer Mountain.”

A friend observed early in this journey that our family had built the ark before the storm hit. From the very start, we were surrounded by help. You helped us care for and love our children, you fed us, you helped with bills and emergencies, you were shoulders to cry on or safe places to express anger or exhaustion, you gave us space, you leaned in, you prayed, you read updates, you used the journey to look at your own family. We are so thankful.

I have often joked that I’m not really talented at anything, but I am an amazing collector of people. I think we all would prefer to be the one that is coming through for someone else, but there is something truly humbling and rewarding to hit a point where you are vulnerable, exposed, desperate, and also confident that you are loved. Thank you.

What’s Next for Shepherd?

Every 3 months Shepherd will have scans (MRI, bloodwork, x-rays) and then he will move to every 6 months for a few years. Having to schedule his first scan for next month has already brought up a lot of emotions for Ashley and me. The treatment was hard on his body, so there are some additional things they will continue to monitor as he develops. He is doing great getting around with and without his brace. He has no shame about the scars on his leg or the divot where the bone and muscle used to be. He has been wiggling his toes lately and we are still waiting to see if the nerves fire and he regains more mobility. He can get fatigued after running around the neighborhood with his crew on these long summer days, but he still plans to play in the World Cup someday.

On July 19 he turned 8 years old. He was thankful to be with The Light Collective friends he made on this journey for a special event day with them, where he had the opportunity to show off his break dance moves. His hair is starting to come back in, and we were all shocked to mark our growth board because he gained 1.5 inches in just two months!

Learning about the World

It’s been strange to have the year we have had with my current job. My breaks from the chaos of home and the hospital have been inviting people to partner with World Concern to help families and villages in their times of need. It’s hard to get too lost in your car troubles or countertop decisions while you are seeing mothers desperate to offer food to their children, or families sick from drinking unclean water. One of the rewarding parts of the job has been to get to know some of the staff who walk with these villages until poverty is no longer a barrier to living. Key leaders from the field convene at our offices once a year for training and strategic meetings.

It was in the middle of these meetings last year that Shepherd’s routine appointment turned our lives upside down. It was humbling to have staff from throughout Africa and Asia stopping meetings regularly to pray over Shep and the doctors. It worked out that Shep got to meet some of them and he was moved to know that there were people praying for him from all over the world before we even knew how seriously things were. This 8-year-old is learning his world geography by finding places on the globe where people are praying for him. What a gift.

Shoutout

Pat Holmes and the Washington State Parks Department

Not only were staff in our court, but many of the partners who support this work found out and invested in our journey. One of the churches that partners with World Concern was not satisfied with their reports on the villages they support unless I included my updates on Shepherd. A sweet member of this group, located on Camano Island, was so moved by Shepherd’s journey that she found a way to tell more people about his story. Patricia Holmes volunteers with the Washington State Parks Department to take pictures and lead tours, and to speak about the eagles in the parks around Camano Island. She let me know that there was a bald eagle born this spring who was a real fighter. The crows were able to get his siblings, but this eagle stood his ground and survived. She received permission to name him “Shep.”

With our newfound freedom to travel more than thirty minutes from the hospital, we packed up for the day and went to visit Pat. She taught us all about the eagles, and showed us some of her insider eagle spots in the parks, but we were all very excited to see Shep before he fledges the nest. Pat has been keeping her Flickr account (https://www.flickr.com/photos/pats_view/) updated with Shep’s latest activities if you care to see more than I have included here.

What’s the Latest

• Shepherd’s next round of scans happens on August 18, prayers appreciated

• School starts again on September 2, but who’s counting?!

• Our Make-A-Wish trip to Disney World leaves on November 4

Other Links

Caringbridge: Ashley has also recently posted an update if you want another perspective or more details.

Helping Hands: We are humbled by the support we have received. Thanks to all who have or continue to give to help with the expenses throughout this journey.

I am a very goal-oriented person. I will burn through every muscle to hit my target but have little to nothing left in the tank. This has been one of the most stretching and impossible challenges I have faced. I mapped out the challenge the only way I knew how with 15 steps to reach our goal. 14 cycles of chemotherapy and a surgery to remove the tumor. 15 steps to climb our mountain and announce the defeat of Shepherd’s cancer. I have done my best to keep the blinders on and focus on the 15 steps, but if you’ve been following along, there have been way more than “15 steps”. We were surprised with a home renovation, moved the family three times, had vehicles breakdown, relationships were strained, sickness threatened schedules, and so on. As the mountain grew steeper we have kept moving forward. I feel like a stranger in an aging body, but we are almost to our goal!

I have learned that the treatment window for Ewing Sarcoma is often shorter than plans for other forms of this awful disease. The trade-off is that the protocol is the heaviest chemotherapy plan administered in pediatric cancer. As Ashley and I understood, the most effective plan of attack is to blitz the cancer cells with a steady and rapid schedule of chemotherapy. Delays to the schedule are not ideal. They give Shepherd a break from chemo, but the cancer cells get a break as well. The team prepared Ashley and I for delays because the impact of these protocols on a seven-year-olds body is significant. To accommodate acceptable delays we were told to shoot for ending treatment mid to late June. But here we are, on the final cycle, right on schedule!

With the intensity of the schedule, it has been difficult to really know what we are feeling. Here we are at the “end” and it feels like we are supposed to feel happy? Some families that have rung the bell and are dealing with the ongoing treatment and monitoring of their child’s body have let us in on the secret that the journey remains challenging.

I imagine it’s like suffering from a break-in. You patch up the damage, replace the things that were taken, and then try to move on as people celebrate you are okay and want you to move on. Inside you still feel vulnerable, untrusting, and changed. I am eager to free the families helping us as they return to “normal” but I also hope families are changed forever by Shepherd’s journey.

I can’t know what will come next, but I am ready to find out. As I said at the start, my goal has been to ring that bell. As for what follows…come what may.

Recent Pictures

Below are a few fun pictures to catch you up on our family. Here is a brief description of what you are looking at.

The Light Collective: One way we have connected with other families on the cancer journey is through an organization called The Light Collective. They send family activity boxes every month, host parent calls, and recently hosted a camp that was a major highlight in our year.

Sam Day Foundation Buddy Run: The family of Sam Day, who had the same cancer as Shepherd, have started a foundation in his memory to improve research and support for families on this journey. They put on a “Buddy Run” where racers raise money by running and run on behalf of a child with cancer. Shepherd’s “buddy” Caleb raced for Shep and we were able to see him finish first with family who we haven’t been able to see this year in Portland.

What’s the Latest

• May 5th - Shep completes his final round of chemotherapy

• May 5th - Ice Cream Party to celebrate (7-8:30pm in our front yard) Join us if you can!

• May 5th - Ashley’s Birthday (No gifts expected, Shep’s achievement is the gift)

• May 7th - Wynn turns 5

• May 11th - CT & MRI Scans of Shepherd’s Body

• May 13th - Bell Ringing Ceremony at Seattle Children’s

  • Let us know if you want to join! Shepherd would love to see people show up.

• May 18th - Port removal surgery

Shoutout

Ashley Gilchrist Willms

As we near the end of this stage, I want to acknowledge and honor my wife. She has carried more than anyone should have to—stepping away from her job to focus on the ever-changing schedule, managing endless details such as medications, appointments, meetings, rides, insurance, budgets, nutrition, and so on. Then throw in kitchen design, contractor communication, more insurance, packing, moving, and rental details. There have been many meltdowns along the way (sometimes Shepherd and sometimes me) but she has somehow held our family together through some of the hardest days.

The strength, sacrifice, and steadiness she’s shown have been nothing short of remarkable. Our son’s progress is a testament not only to great medical care, but to the relentless love and leadership she has poured out every single day. I’m deeply grateful for her.

Other Links

CaringBridge — Ashley has also been sharing some great updates over on CaringBridge if you want the full picture. She recently likened the journey to a carnival ride that was spot on!

Helping Hands for Team Willms — We are humbled by the support we have received. Thanks to all who have given to help with the expenses throughout this journey!

We officially moved back in on Wednesday night. Ashley and I had been moving carloads back over each night this week, and everyone was excited to be back in our own beds. Even with furniture stacked and clothes, books, and toys haphazardly thrown in boxes and piled around us, there is an optimism that this new season is bringing out in our family.

Ashley and I agree that we are not chasing the past with how we hope to move back into our home. Shepherd’s diagnosis changed our lives in ways that we are still understanding. We have been given an opportunity to shift the patterns we were stuck in. After years of uncertainty and transition we realize we had been holding onto things—and rhythms—that no longer serve us. Living out of suitcases and without schedule stability has taught us to be more thoughtful and appreciate what matters.

As I was putting the boys to bed this week, I was reminded how much we’ve changed by the wallpaper in their room. Ashley found this amazing wallpaper when we were setting up the boys room that has made it my favorite room in the house. It has dragons, trains, racecars, castles, sharks, and all the things a boy falls asleep dreaming about. The boys and I have stared at it many times while huddled in their bunk bed making up stories about the images.

We were only out of our house for a few months, but as I stared at the wallpaper it felt too juvenile for the young men that now lived in that space. The life we have lived has aged us all. We have each carried the weight differently, but there is a camaraderie that we share which I could not have anticipated. There have been conversations with each kid that you don’t expect to have with someone at their age, but they were thrust into life and appreciate its value in new ways.

I’m in no rush to change out the wallpaper in their room, but I am reflecting on the gift we have been given to move back into our new/old home. It feels nostalgic, but we all realize we are different. I am pretty sure we would have missed this growth perspective if we had stayed in the same old place. Now the same old house is where we get to start fresh.

What’s the Latest

• Shepherd finished his 12th of 14 chemotherapy cycles last Monday

• Cycle 13 starts this Thursday

• Team Willms is back home and the neighbors have embraced the noise as children are again running through the yards

• Baseball season has started for Bruin so you can find us at the snack shack while the kitchen project wraps up

• If we can stay on schedule Shepherd’s last day of chemotherapy would fall on Ashley’s birthday! (May 5)

Shoutout

The Dudes

Over 10 years ago a group of 6 friends committed to meeting annually for the purpose of sustaining our friendship despite distance and encouraging each other to be the men, husbands, and fathers we were committed to become. We found that as dudes it was easier to talk about the Seahawks than the challenges we may be facing or the goals we were chasing, so we pledged to carve out time to be different. Since we started there has been so many twists and turns in each of our stories, but we have found that when you know you will answer for the decisions you have made to a council of your chosen peers you begin to live with intentionality. It is fun to share achievements and milestones, but to face whatever challenges knowing you are not alone has made all the difference.

It is because of this group that I started making these posts. They knew that I can “go dark” and they challenged me to share updates to help process. I thought there would only be five people following me (well 6, but mom loves everything I do) so it has been overwhelming to have so many of you join in. Some days have been too hard to post, but I’ve been able to vent to this group, and they have kept me moving with relentless forward progress. Thank you.

Other links if you’re interested…

CaringBridge (Ashley and friends keeping people updated)

Helping Hands for Team Willms (tax deductible way to support the Willms)

For about a week prior to starting a chemo treatment he has to go in every other day for lab work to make sure his body is recovering enough to handle what’s coming. If he is too low in any of the categories he will receive a blood or a platelet transfusion.

I tried to act cool as I sat with him receiving a dose of someone’s blood in early February. He was clearly weak as we arrived that morning, but you could see some energy coming back to him.

It didn’t hurt that some friends we made in this journey had set up a “Jolly Shop” right across the hall. With Valentine’s Day approaching they helped their daughter to bring a little joy to the patients, families, and nurses working that day while she was receiving treatment. They set up a table outside her room and covered it with candy that everyone could put in the paper cups she had labeled “Jolly Shop.” Shep was a repeat customer throughout the day.

With about an hour left of his transfusion he looked up from his video game and exclaimed “Dad! It’s like there is golden iron pumping through my chest!” I don’t know if it was the chocolate “jolly” or the donors blood, but we celebrated that he was feeling better nonetheless.

I saw an opportunity and began to play up the fact that he might have too much energy. “Maybe these transfusions are a bad idea if you start feeling this good?!” I expressed. “How is an old dad like me supposed to keep up with a kid that has ‘golden iron’ pumping through his veins?!?!” He agreed that I wouldn’t be able to handle him, and felt pride in his renewed sense of strength.

Shepherd is no longer afraid of a transfusion.

I still don’t love the idea, but before we say goodbye on lab days, he usually says, “Daaaad! They are probably going to say I need a transfusion today!!” in a playful threat. I respond with the appropriate levels of fear and begging, then I pretend to count the money in my pocket that I am going to have to bribe the doctors with to avoid him overpowering me with his golden iron secret weapon.

So far Shep has only needed two transfusions. His nurses, doctors and parents are repeatedly shocked by how well his body is fighting. Many times he has been at the bottom of the scales so we have scheduled a transfusion for the next visit, then we show up and his numbers have jumped! Thank you for praying, miracles continue to happen.

With that being said, we are entering the final third of his scheduled chemotherapy treatments. The impact is cumulative and things are definitely taking their toll on his body. The soft tissue is being impacted and eating is increasingly difficult. He only had a five pound margin when we started this journey before they let us know he would likely need an NG tube installed to ensure he is getting the necessary nutrients for the battle. With your prayers, support and encouragement we will take whatever may come.

I’ve seen that walk before?!?

In my last update I shared that Ashley and I were watching video of Shep hobbling around the zoo and crying because we couldn’t believe it. I am happy to share that he is walking all over the place!

While he is wearing his brace he moves well, and it almost looks like he is just walking with swagger. It’s not lost on me that Shep has added his own style to everything he does in life, so why would walking be any different?

Around the house he doesn’t always take the time to put on the brace and it’s strangely nostalgic for me. I lost my grandpa, John Willms, a few years ago. When gramps was a young boy he survived polio and his leg never recovered. I didn’t know that he had dropfoot, until watching Shepherd mimic his gait.

Growing up, we didn’t really talk about grandpa’s leg. I knew it was smaller, and that he would kick to keep his boot from dragging, but we never viewed it as a weakness or hindrance. Grandpa was tough, capable, and a force in his own right. I watched him wrestle and brand cattle, jump in and out of giant combines during harvest, and climb the steps on Sundays when he was asked to share something with his church. Grandpa John shared his strength with the people in his life.

For Shep we still don’t know if the nerves will fire again and if dropfoot is here to stay, or only with us for a season, but every time I catch Shepherd kicking his leg to get his toes back in front of him, I am reminded that he is going to have a great story and plenty of strength to share with the people in his life!

What’s the Latest

• We are on Day 2 of 5 for his 10th cycle of chemotherapy

• Shep walks with his brace only most places

• Bruin is wrapping up basketball and signed up to start baseball next week

• Wynn’s preschool progress report confirmed she is a force wherever she goes…”Wynn is always ready to express her emotions and share in our circle time.”

• We are on schedule to move back into our home early April

Shoutout

Heidi Williams

Some good advice I’ve received is to find people who have walked the path you hope to walk and learn from them. We didn’t pick this path, but Heidi has walked through the process of a life-altering diagnosis with her own son and the impacts it can have on marriage, family, work and life in general. I work with Heidi on the fundraising team for World Concern, and she has coached me every step of the way. My instinct is to bury myself in work, but she reminds me that I need to be there for Ashley in the appointments, the hard news days, and the day-to-day. I am definitely not doing any of this with perfection, but I can’t imagine where I would be without Heidi’s wisdom, encouragement and subtle prompts to show up.

Other links if you’re interested…

CaringBridge (Ashley and friends keeping people updated)

Helping Hands for Team Willms (tax deductible way to support the Willms)

Something about the cowboy in this picture has felt relatable these past few weeks. My negligence in writing any updates has been an unintentional result of the pace of life. I don’t know if I’m in fast-forward or slow-motion, but by the time I can get in front of a computer at night I haven’t had much to offer.

I am thankful that I have so many people keeping me accountable, and they’ve reminded me that people need updates. I don’t know who knows what about our lives at this point, but hopefully I can give a flyover and get everyone caught up.

Shepherd is Walking

We are now six weeks past Shep’s surgery to remove the tumor. The doctors feel great about the margins and believe we removed the cancer. My skepticism and need to be prepared sends me to review the reports with ChatGPT, which assures me that the reports are positive and even the things that sound questionable can’t predict Shep’s situation.

Even AI has started to respond to me with lines like, “first of all, let me say how sorry I am that you are going through this, and you are a good father for asking such things…” I would feel patronized, but darn if it doesn’t feel good to hear.

Shep has completed two more rounds of chemotherapy since the surgery. This brings him through 8 of 14 total.

On a 5-day chemo cycle he is wiped and has no energy days 1-3, but by day 4 and 5 starts to interact again. He has some energy and is less vulnerable for a few days after. His body then begins to drop for a few days and he is very vulnerable to disease. Then his body races to to recover and get his levels back up before we start it all again.

His leg is recovering and with physical therapy he is learning how to walk around with his brace. It worked out with his schedule to visit the zoo with a few friends recently. He was determined to walk without the walker. Ashley captured some of him hobbling around on her phone and posted it to instagram. We have both wept watching the reel many times since then. He was wiped out and in a bit of pain that night, but he was so proud to let me know how hard he had worked when I got home that night.

Choosing an attitude of gratitude

I’ve spent my life trying to be someone others could count on—the helper, the fixer, the steady presence. When Shepherd was diagnosed with cancer, that illusion disappeared almost overnight.

Almost instantly we were released from the exhausting work of pretending we had everything together. The diagnosis did something unexpected: it gave us freedom. Freedom from pretending we had everything together, and permission to say what was already true—we need help.

In that honesty, we discovered a different kind of generosity. Meals left on the porch. Prayers spoken when we had no words. Friends and strangers stepping in without being asked.

There is deep joy in giving—but I am learning there is also grace in receiving. When we allow ourselves to be cared for, we participate in the life God designed for us: dependent, connected, and held together by love. While I am still resistant to ask for it, I am learning that needing help is not a failure of faith—for me it is where my faith becomes more real.

Our family has dealt with some curveballs in addition to Shepherd’s diagnosis, and many have been asking for updates. I want to share how some “challenges” have become blessings thanks to the extreme generosity of the people around us.

The Leak: On Christmas day a leak in our kitchen led to having floors, cabinets and walls ripped out of our kitchen and forcing us to move out while Shepherd is immunodeficient. I finally stopped believing I could gain control, and started to hold on and enjoy the ride.

Kitchen Renovation: We had a dream of updating the kitchen someday. Insurance is now covering some of the cost because of the leak, and with some extremely generous gifts from friends much of the project should be covered. Added bonus, Ashley is amazing at design (and rarely gets to use that muscle on our own house) and has found some joy in having a project to work on while sitting in hospital rooms. What a gift to know that the home is being cared for and even improved, instead of a pile of projects being neglected as we focus on Shepherd’s health.

Housing: For the month of January, some friends were out of town and made their incredible home available to our family. (additional details in the “shout out section” below.) This past week we moved into a rental that insurance is covering while the kitchen is put back together. The kids are having fun with our new places to quarantine. Shep’s treatment schedule limits him pretty much to the hospital or our house, so we are thankful that he gets a variety of houses on this journey. As the family continues to move we have all realized that if we can be together, it really doesn’t matter where we are, we can have joy.

Vehicle: Enough things stopped working on my truck, and the costs to repair finally outpaced the value of the vehicle and our capacity. A friend and member of my father-in-laws church heard the situation and offered a vehicle to my father-in-law so that he could hand down his suburban. It’s reliable, we all fit, and it has been helpful in the house-hopping to have the extra space. I loved being a truck guy again, but driving a big family rig is reminding me who I am actually called to be.

Meals: I thought the meal train would last a couple weeks, but friends keep dropping off meals or sending doordash money. Creating a consistent routine has been difficult so not having to deal with dinner some nights has been a gift. We continue to be humbled as we share who blessed us over a family meal. I am usually pretty committed to thanking people, but this list got too big too fast. If you have fed my family, please know that we are sincerely thankful! With each act of kindness we are reminded we are not alone.

Finances: With Shepherd’s schedule and the demands of the family, Ashley had to leave her job. It was a clear choice, but I need to admit I had fear. Providing for the family has been a mental tax I’ve been paying for a couple years, and this wasn’t part of my plan. This is a big area where I have just had to hold on and stay in the saddle. In a showing of extreme generosity from friends, family and others, we have received a humbling amount of support. As we hop between houses, we have been able to keep our attention focused on ringing that victory bell without worrying about bills and other expenses thanks to the generosity of others. My faith and ability to trust are increasing daily.

Family: Shepherd gets most of the attention but we are constantly reminded that Bruin and Winnie are going through this experience as well. It has been incredible to see how people have come around them in this season. Rides to school and sports, play dates, etc. Winnie sleeps in a pile of new stuffies and Bruin has been to more Mariners, Ducks, and Seahawks games this year than I had by the time I was 20. We didn’t pick any of this, but it’s been a pretty good year for his teams! I am so thankful for the way that people have loved my children. They are becoming so much more because they are not limited to my influence!

What’s the Latest

• 8 of 14 cycles of chemotherapy are complete

• We live in the Richmond Beach neighborhood this month

• We plan to move back into our house sometime in March

• The Seahawks won the Super Bowl

Shoutout

John & Nancy Zevenbergen

When we needed a spot to move fast as a family, John and Nancy were incredibly generous. It is no small feat to open your home to a family in our situation, but they and their kids who had been raised in the house made it possible. Ashley and I are still reflecting on the gift that we received as a family over these weeks. Even Shepherd would stop the video games he was escaping into to look out at the incredible views of the sound over the yard. I am convinced that we can be happy anywhere as we are together, but to have a few weeks in a space designed for gathering gave us rich memories to draw on for years. I will always remember reading to the kids as they puzzled next to that beautiful fireplace. Thank you John & Nancy!

Support the Willms

Ashley is also giving some occasional updates via Caringbridge if you aren’t already aware. Thanks for being with us on this journey. Giddy Up!

To make sure he stayed healthy at the end we chose to opt out of some opportunities. Mom and dad were determined to stick to the schedule. Luckily our kids don’t seem to mind being stuck together. Despite staying in a beautiful and spacious home while our kitchen is in pieces, they always seem to choose to be within 10 feet of each other. I’m expecting we will need to address some social skills in the future, but it’s pretty special to witness in this season.

I went with Shep to his first physical therapy session. He loved his wheelchair, but when challenged to begin using his leg again his fighting spirit came out. He struggled at first to stand for 10 seconds, but on the third try he stood till I counted to 10. Then, just as we all expected him to collapse back onto the bench, his eyes locked with mine to show he wasn’t done. We understood each other, and I continued to count, “18...19...20!” and he sat down to catch his breath. I’m so proud of this kid.

Yesterday we met with the surgeon and doctor team to make sure he was ready to start treatment, and he passed. There was only mild laughter as the nurse inspected the wrap job that mom and dad have been doing, but there were no infections, and the wounds are continuing their healing process. He passed the bloodwork and continues to maintain a passing weight.

He met with the orthotics team and was fit for his new brace. Even if the surgery was 100% successful and his nerves graft back together he won’t be able to lift his foot for months. The specialist who helped him actually wears one as well, so as we left he began to get excited for his own brace to arrive.

What’s the Latest

• Today was Day 1 of Round 7 of chemotherapy

• Shep can get most places with the help of a walker

• The generosity of friends provided a magical place to stay while the kitchen is demolished

• The Seahawks are playing for the NFC Championship

• My truck officially quit, but we found a solution! (more soon)

Shoutout

Michael Green

In a season where we have to ask for help, Ashley and I continue to experience blessing as we realize how well we have been surrounded. As soon as we realized that our kitchen wasn’t going to be a quick patch we reached out to Michael. Michael is in real estate and he and Ashley have teamed up to design and renovate a few houses to prepare for sale. Knowing that our brains are in ten different places these days, we asked him to help drive this project. He has kept the ball moving and made sure that everyone is on the same page bringing so much peace to a stressful process.

In addition to all of that, Michael has been coaching the 4th grade basketball team. Bruin made the practice squad and it has been a great lesson on hard work and development. Michael’s approach to coaching is bigger than basketball and we are so thankful for the time he puts in with Bruin, in addition to helping us with the kitchen, in addition to loving and providing for his own family.

Support the Willms

Thank you to the army of people who were praying. The tumor is out and now recovery is the task before chemotherapy starts again. A section of the nerve in question needed to be removed with the tumor, so an “axogen nerve graft” was inserted. My understanding is it’s a “bridge-like” tube between the two existing ends of the cut nerve. Ideally they can grow and hopefully merge to bring back function. We were told it would be months before we would know any level of success. Continued prayers appreciated!

We are so thankful to be sitting in the room with him again. He still has his sense of humor and was even able to slightly wiggle some toes. Ashley and I have just wanted this thing out of our sons body, and it feels like a significant weight has been lifted.

Redemptive Perspectives

On Christmas we found water coming up from the floor in our kitchen and into our family room. A plumber joined our Team Willms holiday celebration and confirmed that moisture was working it’s way up the walls.

We did our best to salvage the day and finished up with activities and challenges that Ashley and I called the “Reindeer Games”. The kids acted uninterested at first, but I think we found a new annual tradition!

Yes, I had moments of panic and how we were going to handle the renovation. With Shepherd heading into surgery and needing a safe space to recover we would rapidly need to find a safe place for him to come home to.

Repeatedly it has felt like we are facing impossible circumstances and our needs are overwhelmingly being met. Once the cause of the leak was identified our insurance approved our claim and will be helping us as we make our home safe again. They are helping us find a spot for the family during the process and we have had some incredible offers from friends that may work even better during this season!

One of the beautiful things about this fight for Shepherd’s health is that it has unified Ashley and I in our singular priority to ring that bell. As other challenges arise, we do our best to tackle them, but there is no distracting us from our mission. There isn’t time to sit down and give in to woe. Relentless Forward Progress!

So why not choose to find joy in the situation. This year was already thrown a curveball, so what if it’s a gift to have the kitchen be remodeled while life is already out of the ordinary? What if a change of scenery allows the family to make special memories in a new space, instead of feeling trapped while Shepherd can’t travel? What if we could learn to laugh when a challenge arises instead of panic?

I will end with the evidence that either our perspective is actually changing, or we have officially snapped. In a last push to get things ready before this week of surgery, I jumped in my old truck to run some errands. As the key turned, the engine screeched loud enough that Ashley came out front to see what was wrong. She made it in time to see smoke rise out of the engine and hear the truck sputter and shut down. We met in the middle of the yard to hug and laugh like a couple of maniacs.

What’s the Latest

• Shepherd is sleeping peacefully after a gnarly day of surgery

• We are unclear how long he will need to stay in the hospital

• We have a housing plan and will move the rest of the family tomorrow night

• Kitchen demolition is scheduled to start Wednesday

• Our friends at Edmonds Automotive picked up the truck and got it working again while we were at the hospital!

Shoutout

Ryan and Lindsey Eatherly

This family has been so intentional with ours since we have known them. There are so many ways that they have rallied around us since before the news of Shepherd broke. They have showered us with extreme generosity and offer presence in the midst of chaos. Ryan is always offering to take the kids and Lindsey’s experience with pediatric oncology has offered Ashley a safe processing partner. When the news of the kitchen broke Lindsey was at our house. People were in and out and it was clear we had no dinner plan. Before we knew it Lindsey had returned with a full meal including ribs that Ryan had clearly labored over. It wasn’t until we had nearly devoured the last of the delicious ribs that we realized we had taken dinner off their families table. Who does that!?!

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Shepherd is having the Ewing Sarcoma tumor removed from his leg on Monday, January 5th. The surgery is scheduled to start at 7:30am and is expected to last around nine hours. We have been overwhelmed and blessed by friends, family, co-workers, and people we have never met who are planning to pray for Shepherd, the surgeons, and his tired family throughout the day. If you are reading this, you are invited to join us on Monday, or heck, feel free to start now!

The Procedure

The tumor sits just below his right knee on the outside of his leg. The Surgeon will open up the leg and remove the tumor along with the upper half of his Fibula bone. Ideally, the surgical team will be able to remove all cancer without impacting the Tibia bone, but there is an expectation that it will need to be scraped at a minimum, and a chance of more significant removal, which would further impact his future leg function.

He has completed six rounds of chemotherapy. The tumor has shrunk significantly and initial forecasts sounded like Shepherd would likely regain full function of his leg as his body recovers and begins to grow after he completes chemo.

However, the tune changed in our most recent scan review with the surgical team. The tumor has appeared to stop shrinking. They now expect to remove a section of his Peroneal Nerve as well. Nothing is for sure, but if this happens they expect a permanent foot drop. This means he can push down with his foot and toes, but can’t lift up. Again, nothing is certain and we are hoping for a miracle on Monday.

How Mom and Dad are Coping

All in all, we are counting our blessings. On this journey we have met children with very challenging situations, and forecasts less promising than Shepherd’s. We know that whatever happens on Monday, we will grow from it together. That being said, we believe miracles happen, and will be praying for the surgeons, Shep’s body, and that pesky tumor to behave in a way that is in his favor.

Ashley has been holding us all together. She has been anxious about the surgery and trying to keep everyone healthy so we can stay on schedule. As an unwelcome distraction she has also been trying to work with our home insurance to find us a place to move the family this week (more on that fiasco in a forthcoming post). I pray she will get some restful sleep soon.

In a commitment to being vulnerable, I will share that I had my biggest breakdown the night we found out Shep’s leg may not recover. Since the shock of his diagnosis I have put on my blinders and focused on getting us through this year, and ringing that sweet bell of victory. I left no space for thoughts of lifetime impact. We all deal with shock in different ways. That night I was weeping on our bathroom floor at two in the morning. I have had some time with it now, and I have confidence that whatever happens, Shep is going to have a wonderful life. I don’t get to choose how God is glorified, but He has been showing His glory at every step of this journey.

Some Ways to Pray

• Wisdom and expertise of the surgeons throughout the surgery

• Complete removal of cancerous cells and tumor from Shepherd’s body

• Further shrinking of the tumor to minimize permanent impact during removal

• Quick healing for Shepherd’s body before he jumps back into chemotherapy

• Strength for exhausted parents

• God to be glorified

Shepherd continues to impress his team at Seattle Children’s Hospital. We had more CT and PET Scans this week to prepare for surgery and all indications are that the tumor is responding exactly as we hoped. He has also been able to stay on schedule for all of his treatments. There are many reasons the schedule can get adjusted, such as an illness, or his numbers don’t bounce back enough between treatments. The fact that he hasn’t missed sets him up better for the approaching surgery.

I’ll be honest and say that I underestimated the fighting spirit of this boy! There have been times when his numbers indicate he should be sleeping, but he is just being Shep. He finds energy to play with his siblings, crack jokes and makes his mother nervous as he wrestles with his brother. Things quickly seem pretty normal until the chemo starts.

The change happens quickly. His body becomes swollen, and his skin gets a yellow hue. His eyes begin to gloss over as he often squints to focus on random parts of the room. He still offers a subtle chuckle to a well placed joke, and can still raise an eyebrow when he is being praised. He is still in there. Most communication is with hand gestures or short phrases. As his dad I get the honor of carrying him around more on these days.

A year ago I set out to get into better shape. I had a variety of reasons for the journey, but I realize now it was for this purpose. It has taken months of increasing the weight I can lift, and I’ve lost over 30 pounds in the process. I thought I was preparing to stand in front of crowds, but it was for these intimate moments. There are some days where Shep is so tired that he can’t hold up his head. As I carry him up the stairs to his bed I hold his body away from my own so that gravity holds his head against my chest as we walk. There is no way I could have done this a year ago. I don’t feel like my best is showing up in many places these days, but I am thankful that I can be there for him in this little way.

A Quick Trip Update

Ashley and our incredibly supportive friends made it possible for Bruin and I to still join my family on a trip to Green Bay, WI to celebrate my dad and his retirement by fulfilling a lifelong dream to visit Lambeau Field in December. I will spare you the pictures of my dad and I with painted chests in 12 degrees, but it happened! Don’t worry, we were all being good sports for my dad. We are all in on the Hawks, and Bruin has been given the opportunity to celebrate his birthday at the game tomorrow thanks to the continued generosity of friends.

What’s the Latest…

• Currently in Cycle 6 of chemotherapy

• Bruin turns 10 years old tomorrow!

• Shep is currently incentivized by a slice of pepperoni from Pagliacci Pizza on the drive home

• It looks like Shep will get a longer gap in chemo over Christmas in preparation for surgery!

Shoutout

Joe and Hayley Dennison

As Ashley and I are spread between work and hospital visits it continues to be a challenge to figure out logistics with Bruin and Winnie most days. Bruin considers himself an honorary member of the Dennison crew because he has been so welcomed into the mix. He is always excited to find out he will be picked up, shuttled to practice, hanging out, or headed to a game with his buddy Brody and his brothers. Brody and Bruin also teamed up for their 4th grade Marketplace Project and designed athletic headbands to sell. They put their school logo on them with a cross and a childhood cancer ribbon. I wasn’t sure how they would move, but they sold out. Extra props to Hayley, who is the real wizard with custom clothing. She has kept Team Willms and Shep decked out in clothing for the cause!

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Like the rest of our lives, things feel pretty different this year. Some Edmonds friends made their homes available so family could be close as Shepherd can’t travel. Our brothers and sisters prepped the meal early in the week, traveled with loaded coolers, and cooked a royal feast to perfection in someone else’s oven. I’m quite sure I was terrible company as I did my best to be present, but largely zoned out on football games and conversations about my fantasy football team. Our children were blessed to be surrounded by their cousins (10 total, nine boys and our daughter Winnie). We cranked up the air purifiers, kept doors and windows open and hoped that no one was sick.

It is strange how “normal” this chaos has become. On the early drive in today for nine hours of chemo, Shep let me know he expected it to be a “pretty easy day”, because he knows what’s going to happen. He sat in my lap and distracted himself with a video game while they punctured his skin to access the port. Just days ago this would have been a fight, but today the only battle that is happening is on his Nintendo Switch. One or two of his cousins plan to visit him today, which will be a welcome distraction.

Last week we had a meeting with the surgeon who will be removing the tumor from Shep’s leg. Once again I underestimated the weight of the meeting, but when ten doctors and nurses poured into our tiny clinic room to discuss MRI results I knew we were getting more big news. The tumor was found right below Shep’s right knee on the outside of his leg. What was a noticeable bump with occasional pain, has shrunk considerably since starting chemo, but the MRI gave clarity to his operating team. In early January, the team will go in to remove the tumor. Along with the tumor, they will be removing the upper half of his Fibula, which is the smaller of the two bones between your knee and ankle. There are some complications that may result, but the team feels confident that with the right therapy, tools and interventions, Shepherd will eventually recover and is expected to have normal use of his leg in the future.

I’m wrestling with this idea that we have spare parts in our bodies. I’ve sat in too many Sunday school classrooms and been in too many sports team pep talks about how we are part of something bigger than ourselves and that every part of the body is needed to win, but the doctors are assuring us that the body doesn’t really need the Fibula for much.

Am I like the Fibula? It’s been a good check-in lately. I believe we can all have purpose, but we don’t always live into our gifts. I’ve experienced seasons where I feel useful, and many where I’m restless and yearning for more. Lately I just feel stretched so thin. Shepherd is more like the Tibia, the big essential leg bone (I’m learning so much!) The favor that Shepherd has because of his joy, energy and passion for life has resulted in a continually growing army that is praying for him, asking about him, and fighting for him. All along the way we are all being given opportunities to evaluate the things that are important to us. Opportunities to evaluate if we are making the most of the time we have. Opportunities to more intentionally connect with the people in our lives.

Do you need a Fibula? There is a good chance that they are telling concerned parents what they need to hear in the moment, and to be clear, I am not asking for people to jump on Google to tell me what they think I need to hear. Like the rest of this journey, we don’t have much choice. We are just going to maintain relentless forward progress.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the army that loves, prays and fights for Shepherd. Thank you.

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What’s the Latest…

• Round 5 of chemotherapy (2-day cycle) started today

• Tumor is scheduled to be removed the first week of January

• Shep had his first blood transfusion last week and got lots of energy back

Shoutout…

Mrs. Geng

The schedule of treatment for Ewing Sarcoma is rigorous and frequent, which means that Shepherd isn’t able to attend school regularly. The staff at King’s Elementary has been incredibly gracious with our family. Shep was only in school for a couple of weeks before our lives changed, but his teacher Mrs. Geng has remained committed to caring for him and providing resources. She is weekly giving classroom updates to keep us informed and to share current learning objectives for us to work on.

Shep's Caring Bridge

Check out “Shep’s Caring Bridge” to find Ashley’s updates. She’s a great writer and gives a different perspective. Be aware…any solicitations on Caring Bridge are not going to the family.

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If I am honest, he has dealt with every piece of news better than I would. The staff at Seattle Children’s has been incredible. They understand the crippling effect of the news they are often sharing, and deliver just enough to grasp what lies directly in front of you. In our case, there are no options, just forward progress.

I recall one meeting where I went full Charlie Brown. You know how in Peanuts the voices of adults were always just incoherent mumbling? It had never happened to me before. I could see the doctor talking, but I could not make out any of the words that were being spoken. We had moved from Shepherds diagnosis, to some of the long-term effects of his treatment plan. I wasn’t ready to hear them then, and I am still not ready to share some here. As words started to come back into focus I recall the doctor explaining that one of our next appointments was to have Shep’s port installed. No options, just forward progress.

I didn’t understand what the port was, so it was a welcome distraction to direct energy to learning. Apparently, there will be so many needles putting things into and taking things out of Shepherds body over the next year, that it is easier to just install a device in his chest that is plugged into his bloodstream. He will still get some shots in the arm, but the majority of his treatment can now be “accessed” through the easy button sticking out of his chest.

My friend let me know that when his daughter went through treatment a few years ago, she took pride in her port because she associated herself with Iron Man. So after the port was installed and Shep was getting used to it, we watched Iron Man for the first time. Not only did he like the movie, and feel especially connected to this superhero, he loved the music! For the next few days he kept asking Alexa to play Iron Man, so Ozzy Osbourne was regularly serenading the family.

All things considered, Shep has done pretty well with the port. He has also taught himself to swallow pills to avoid the taste of some of the medicines he must regularly take. Every day he seems to understand more about the fight that he is in. Ashley and I are wrestling with knowing how to help him process. We don’t want him living in fear, but our hope is that he can have ownership of his part in the fight, and when he beats cancer he can live with an understanding of his strength, instead of just recalling a weird year where mom and dad made him do terrible things. There is a lot to process for a seven year old.

There are still tantrums and skirmishes of resistance when it comes time to access the port, take medicine, get shots, or some days get out of bed, but he knows it must be done. It is tough for everyone when he puts up a fight. It is especially draining for Ashley, who has had to be there for every visit. The relationship between patient and mom is both sweet and strained. Early on (it feels like a year ago, but only a month) the scene was chaotic as I would have to hold him down and restrain his arms and legs so that he wouldn’t kick or punch the nurses or his mother out of fear. Over this round of chemotherapy he appears to have aged ten years. I don’t have to restrain him, but when Shep has a hard time and he needs the extra encouragement he looks at me and says “Dad…Music!” so I keep Black Sabbath cued up for Shepherd’s theme song!

I encourage you to go listen to Iron Man today and think of Shepherd doing the hard work!

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What’s the Latest…

• 4 of 14 scheduled rounds of chemotherapy are done

• MRI confirmed the tumor is responding to treatment

• Grandma Gilchrist has moved back in for the rest of the month to help out

• Bruin joined Shep at the hospital Saturday and Sunday and lifted Shep’s spirits

Shoutout…

Christine Somoza

We have been incredibly blessed by a support system of friends helping get kids from point A to B during treatment cycles. Christine has consistently helped with the house to school piece, and she has made this such a special part of Winnie and Bruin’s day. Getting kids out the door for school is usually such a chore, but on the days that Christine is shuttling, you can see the joy in Winnie’s face as she steps out the door to Christine’s warm smile. It is a true blessing to witness others loving your children.

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He was dressed as a Mariner (picture below) to the hospital because they could unbutton the jersey and still get to the tubes, but now that he was free, he was excited to wear his ninja costume and get some candy with his buddies. The ninja costume worked great because he had to wear a facemask the whole time which may have been a dealbreaker, but I showed him sub-zero from Mortal Kombat and he realized ninja’s were wearing facemasks before they were cool.

Winnie, Bruin and I went with some inflatable costumes (more pictures below), which I thought worked great to keep the rain off, but Bruin complained that his sheer size made it difficult to get to the candy. We wrapped up some quick trick-or-treating and landed at our friends party. Shep had been excited all day to see them, but was exhausted. He played for a bit, but as dinner was served I drove he and Ashley home so they could watch a movie and relax.

On Saturday he passed out for a couple hours on the living room floor, but seemed to be doing okay. Bruin and I left for Bruin’s basketball games and thought everything was alright. I didn’t realize it, but my phone lost reception while I was in the gym and a friend had to run over to tell me Ashley was trying to reach me. When I stepped out I saw a text that Shep had thrown up and had a fever of 102.6 and we had to get him to the hospital. My buddy let me know he had Bruin and I was off. Ashley had a friend at the house to watch Winnie and I followed them to the emergency room.

We called ahead because they don’t want Shepherd waiting in the emergency room while he is immunodeficient so they got him right into a room. While we waited I turned on game 7 of the World Series. It was already in extra innings.

If you recall, it was less than 24 hours from the traumatic removal of needles, and now we were back to hook him up again. The fever took out some of his fight and the game kept his attention. I was distracted helping to hold down his arms and work to reassure him, but he kept his eyes glued on the screen. He saw the final pitch as my back was turned he let me know the Dodgers had won the World Series. What a strange night.

They ended up keeping him in a quarantine room for 48 hours on the cancer unit floor to make sure he beat the situation. It wasn’t the weekend we had planned, but he was determined to make it home and when he walked in the door it was as if nothing was wrong.

What’s the Latest…

• Shepherd completed Cycle 3 of Chemotherapy

• Ashley has created a sticker system to keep him motivated through shots, medications, and other challenges

• It’s teacher conference week, so Bruin and Winnie will be home with their brother

• Bruin got one of those smart watches so he could contact us while our community helps to raise him in this season

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Shoutout Section

Jamie & Jake Lyon

Jamie has been a fierce advocate for Shepherd and our family from day one. She has been committed to providing ways for Shep to be a kid throughout this journey. While we may have thrown in the towel they both adjusted their annual party to make sure Shepherd could safely experience Halloween with his friends. Then just a day later, when Ashley called for help, they both made it possible for Jamie to come and watch our children till the wee hours of the morning until I could get home to relieve her. I don’t wish hard times on anyone, but it is such a sweet and humbling experience to have your pain be public and be reminded fiercely that you are not alone.

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When we had our Team Meeting to break the news to the kids, I wasn’t sure how he would respond. Once we explained what the lump in his leg was and that we were all on this journey with him, I remember Ashley explaining that plenty of people survive this and live long and happy lives. I remember because of Shepherd’s response. He turned to me, raised his eyebrow and pointed his finger at me saying, “sign me up for that camp dad!” Ashley and I hid our watering eyes in affirming laughter.

To close out the Team Meeting, I asked the kids if anyone could climb a mountain in one step. They explained to me that it takes a lot of little steps to reach the top. So we drew a mountain on the chalkboard in our living room, and at the top wrote “Beat Cancer.” Then we started taking steps toward the destination with relentless forward progress.

We have completed two rounds of chemotherapy, and Shepherd continues to take steps. Of course there are days he fights the shots, and certain medications. There are days he longs to be at school with his friends, or playing soccer with his team, but he understands that he is on a mission. Ashley and I still tend to panic on the days where the treatment drains the energy out of him and he can barely stand and interact, because this is so not Shepherd. Those days are hard. Sunday night was one of those. Then the morning comes and Shepherd is back. He wants to wrestle, show off a new dance move, make an obstacle course out of furniture, and you are reminded that this special child has what it takes to climb the mountain

What’s the Latest…

• Shepherd starts Cycle 3 of chemotherapy on Thursday

• Current labs have been positive to stay on schedule

• Ashley has taken up Mahjong

• Shepherd can now beat his dad at Mariokart (not okay!)

• Bruin is officially a flag football champion

Shoutout Section!

Ashley and I have been overwhelmed by the support we have received on this journey so I plan to take a moment to shine a light on a few of you while I am sharing my heart with the world.

Kendra Waldburger

On Friday night Bruin had the big championship game for his flag football season. I’ve been helping coach and Ashley wanted to come cheer him on, but leaving Shepherd has been a little stressful lately. Kendra has been with us every step of this journey. As a former nurse at Seattle Children’s Hospital she was one of the first people Ashley reached out to and has been with us in the room with the doctors to help us understand what is happening, ask the questions we didn’t know to ask, and to be a shoulder to cry on. When she offered to watch Shepherd and Winnie so Ashley could go to the game, it felt possible. Unfortunately, Shep’s body didn’t react well to something and he needed to throw up. My kids are good at moving towards the bathroom, but rarely hit the toilet. We walked in the house as poor Kendra was thoroughly decontaminating our bathroom, and smiling the whole time! This could have been pretty awkward, but after you’ve cried with someone from the uncomfortable seats of a hospital waiting room, these things don’t sting so bad. Kendra, thank you for carrying Ashley and I when we could not move.

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Day 21

Very little about cancer registers with a seven-year-old that is starting on this journey. From Day 1 Shepherd has operated with a confidence that victory is assured. Even when he fights the medications that leave a bitter taste, or the needles that frequently come, he understands that these hard things must be done. The one thing that he has rejected as an option is losing his hair.

As he was in the hospital for Round 2 of chemo (this was a 5-day cycle) he would watch the other kids pass by his room with no hair and he began to understand this was inevitable. He was invited to join in an art class the Child Life Specialists were leading for inpatients at Seattle Children’s. Ashley encouraged him to join with hopes that he would connect with other kids, since we know he has been missing his friends at school. He rejected the invitation and when pressed he shared that he didn’t feel like he would belong because he still had his hair.

I will take a quick moment to educate on cancer. You may already understand but I have needed every children’s book that foundations keep offering our children to understand what their brother is going through. Our bodies are made of cells, and these cells divide and multiply and we continue to grow. Every once in awhile, for no apparent reason (other than we live in a broken world) a cell goes bad, and then that cell starts to multiply. Good cells have a purpose and multiply by design, cancer cells don’t have a purpose and multiply creating chaos. Chemotherapy kills cells. Good cells and cancer cells are all being killed. I won’t get into some of the areas of the body that will be impacted because tender cells are being attacked, but the doctor explained that hair cells die quickly and the hair falls out. This process can be scary, and is annoying as the scalp can be tender and becomes itchy. Alright, back to Shep.

I made the decision not to pressure Shepherd to shave his head before Round 2 because a nurse said that once it starts falling out, they usually ask to shave. I thought we had more time. Night one of treatment the shedding began. As the stay went on Shep would leave a trail of hair worse than our old Labrador. Ashley has been an amazing mother and advocate for our son, but this process broke her heart.

Shep and Ashley came home on Day 20 (10/20/25) and on Day 21 (I have started numbering the days from his first day of chemotherapy) while they were returning from a follow up appointment for more shots, Shepherd let Ashley know we could shave his head. She sent a text to a few friends and what happened next was incredible. Picture the movie Inside Out with Joy and Sadness embracing a core memory I will carry forever.

Ashley let me know via text that Shep was ready to shave his head and some friends may be there at 3:30 and was hoping I would be able to make it. There was no way I was missing this. As I walked in the house Shep was beaming because he was going to see his friends. Shortly after, people started showing up, and they kept showing up. Some parents have mentioned that their boys would shave their heads in solidarity, but this felt like a pretty big ask, and I wasn’t sure if it would even help Shepherd.

Everyone brought such a united joy and excitement to be on Shepherd’s team. Once 30 children were running around the backyard and parents were setting up multiple shaving stations, Shepherd and I were caught up in the moment. Before we knew it the clippers were buzzing and the crowd was cheering. I fought tears as I looked over to see other boys grinning as they stood with their friend, and as I tried not to hurt Shepherd’s tender scalp as the clumps that had not yet fallen were removed. I still can’t believe this is happening.

The party rolled on, and we hooked up the leaf blower to clean up the itchy remains on the brave soldiers, however things changed for Shepherd. He caught a glimpse of his reflection and the thing he had now been dreading for three weeks had happened. He found a beanie and tried to hide his head. Like a fool I snatched it off and told him to be proud. I wanted to honor the other boys shaving and their parents who offered their sons to the gauntlet of dads buzzing scalps. I realized my mistake as Shep hid in the laundry room and let the tears fly. Sometimes as a parent you make mistakes and you just don’t know how to dig out of the hole you dug. I was hopeless.

Then Shep and I heard a voice. His dear friend Boaz came in and tenderly asked Shepherd if he wanted to play up in Shep’s room. We were keeping everyone outside, but Shep looked at me inquisitively to see if this may be okay. Of course they could. His head was now too sensitive for a hat or beanie, but he covered up with the hood of his sweatshirt, and after a couple minutes with Boaz, they were back outside with the crew. At the end of the day, ten brave boys lost their hair. Nash, Cade, Hank, Gus, Zeke, Brody, Weston, Theo, Oliver, and Shepherd. I salute you!

Shep took some pictures, but kept his hood on. A day later he is still struggling with the baldness, but we are so thankful for the army God has placed around us in this season, to help us move forward with steps big and small.