Tomorrow we are back in clinic for sedation, spinal tap and chemo infusion.

Don’t be annoyed with your kids if they fail a math test or blow out the knees of their pants for the tenth time.

I’d be thrilled if Justin could fail a test and rip his pants. Because that would mean he is at school being a kid, instead of having poison injected into his central nervous system.

There will be pain and screaming and sickness tomorrow. Yet, no matter how much I will its delay, I know tomorrow will come.

I get weary of it all.

Most of the time I feel like the last scene of Rocky 2. Apollo and Rocky are both beaten and bloodied, down on the mat. Whoever gets up first wins. It’s a painful ten seconds, in slow motion, of them both struggling to stand, then falling, then struggling to stand again.

But what can I do? Freak out? Done that. Eat my emotions? Daily. Throw a tantrum? Been there. Scream and yell? You betcha.

I can tell you this. None of it makes any difference.

What keeps me from really going over the edge is faith. Faith that God is real, God is here, God is sovereign and God is Love.

I don’t know what God is doing, and I don’t like it. But I trust Him.

I’ll be face down on the mat, again, tomorrow, then trying like Rocky to JUST GET UP. Only I won’t get a trophy belt thing in the end, and Adrienne won’t be there.

I’m pretty sure this post is a big stream of consciousness mess, but that’s all I got tonight. Grace be with you, my friends.