Last night, I caught Justin in the tub with Gizmo, the cat, perched on the side patiently withstanding water being dribbled onto his head. His fur was wet and spiky-looking. Justin had been at this for a while.

“I’m giving him a mohawk, Mom!” Justin was smiling so huge, and the scene was so ridiculous. I had to crack up. It was such a typical, funny, little boy thing to do.

In these moments, I am reminded that, although we are going through some kind of layer of hell, and today he will be tortured and pumped full of poison, he is currently still full of life and mischief and possibilities.

For this, I am very grateful.

I thank you, Lord, with all my heart;
I sing praise to you before the gods.
I face your holy Temple, bow down, and praise your name because of your constant love and faithfulness, because you have shown that your name and your commands are supreme. You answered me when I called to you; with your strength you strengthened me. Psalm 138:1-3

On clinic today: Justin will have a lumbar puncture with an infusion of methotrexate directly through his spinal fluid to his central nervous system. He will also have an infusion of Vincristine, which continues to slowly deform his feet. He will start another course of steroids and pills that will make him into moody-sulky-weird-food-craving kid.

Of course this all depends on his blood counts and liver functions. Also, Justin has developed a roaring case of eczema. It’s a lot. It really is. But we are trusting God.

Thank you for continued prayer and support.

On my ongoing war with dog smell: I cracked a little yesterday, opened windows, lit every candle in the house, roasted a chicken because…well…that smells better than dog pee, and, finally, hauled out the Hoover, shampooed the carpets and ate a pack of Oreos.