Moments after a spinal tap, Justin is sleepily watching a movie.  Today was the first time he said, “My back really hurts.”

I sit close by tucking warm blankets around him, stroking his head, holding his movie screen for distraction until my arm aches.

I no longer see fear and distrust in his eyes, but something like resignation. He is adapting.

I don’t like this. Adaptation. To cancer treatment.

But God is here and His grace doesn’t fail to meet us in the mess.

Justin has prayed for his hair to grow back. We excitedly shampooed the first evidence of regrowth last night.

Sometimes waiting and hoping. Sometimes not seeing, desperately searching. All needlessly. Because grace finds us.

And grace is in the business of details. All the little stuff that gives reason for joy or gets us all kinds of frazzled.

Grace finds me when I’m tired and worn and not even looking. Finds me when my son’s single, giant tear falls into my hand as a needle punctures his spine. And grace has found me rejoicing in the bathroom over new  hair that makes all the difference to a young boy.