For Nicky and Michael.

I remember when you were both a little younger saying, “watch, mom, watch me.”

I’m STILL watching you. I’ll ALWAYS be watching you.

All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. ~Helen Keller

Justin is out of bed and back to himself. We are buckets full of grateful.

Photo Commentary 

Our sweet friend brings her dog for a little pet therapy. Justin is perked up and Nicky wants to keep him. We make chocolate chip cookies for everyone but, mostly Michael, because they’re his favorite. And because I ALWAYS make food for Justin and NEVER make anything for him. I stick my face in cookie dough over this unbelievably false, hyperbolic statement. Justin is in our dining room classroom, back to work on math, phonics and a story about Pocahontas. Justin makes grilled cheese for daddy with a little help. Because last night he insists he’s going to start doing thing himself “like a twenty-year-old does.” Be still my heart. Thank you for faithful prayers. Grace be with you.

It’s been a long forty-eight hours. Justin is not feeling well because of increased chemo, steroids and a nasty chest cold that may send us to clinic tomorrow. He’s done nothing but lie around and NEED. I’ve been beside him every minute.

I really hate steroids. He’s moody, sullen and then there’s the food thing. Without a hint of joking, he asked for a burger, lobster and corn on the cob for dinner. I improvised. Burgers I can do. A friend dropped off canned crab meat. Raised on Maryland bay crabs, I was scared to open it. It kinda looked like cat food. Ok how to make his taste like lobster. Butter. Sauté in a lot of butter. It was actually acceptable.

Here’s my attempt at satisfying those rampant undiscerning steroid cravings, albeit modified. Just trying to give my best like any other mom.

Justin didn’t eat ANY of it. And that’s how it goes on chemo.

Nicky just went to bed with a headache. I’m sitting on the bathroom floor writing this, but really just here to get a break. I NEED to clean this toilet. I’m getting up, finding my snow boots and going out for a walk.

Thank you for the cards and messages. We enjoyed reading them and it does really lift the spirits to know we aren’t journeying alone. Still, after enough time that most stories become old news. Thank you for that. Grace be with you, my friends.

The ups and downs continue. Medication again increased. Another round of steroids. So Justin is tired, angry and keeping me extra busy with food cravings.

This month it’s crab. What! Where do you get crab in the dead of winter? Grocery store seafood counter. And you pay dearly.

What’s a cancer mom to do? The next round of crab craving, you try to pass off imitation crab meat. I even sprinkled on Old Bay and warmed it up. Gross. What IS that stuff? He refused to try it. Can’t say I blame him.

We made it through the evening on buttered spaghetti. Without crab.

I’m cabin feverish and, I think, vacuuming too much. Crumbs seem bigger and more stuck to my feet this week.

Daily living in a struggle. Childhood cancer. My child. I’m ever swinging the pendulum of elation to despair and then here we go again.

There is fear. But there is no laying down underneath of it. There is no allowing it to become big and looming. There is no white flag waving or anything resembling surrender.

There is a battle ground. Lines are drawn there. There are trenches and armor and weaponry. There is dust kicked up around a huddled family. The smallest boy and his mother step out first. They are both wounded but undeterred; knowing the One they cannot see guides them along the footsure way, where He has already been.

I called on your name, Lord, from the depths of the pit. You heard my plea: “Do not close your ears to my cry for relief.” You came near when I called you, and you said, “Do not fear.” You, Lord, took up my case;  you redeemed my life. Lamentations 3:55-58

Thank you for messages of prayer and concern. Our prayers are heard and answered. After an extremely long day, we are home and Justin is doing well.

We were in the hospital for many hours because his fever reached 103.3. Tests were run. NOT fun.

Justin was sick and miserable until his fever completely broke. Tests were all normal. Doctor had no other explanation than a virus or reaction to anesthesia.

But, as I look out this morning at our freshly blossomed cherry trees, I am reminded that I know better. As Justin would say, “it’s all God, mom.”

TRULY exhausted and head pounding. BUT abundantly blessed to be home with my happy-not-burning-up-with-fever -just-slightly-sore Justin resting on the couch, playing his favorite video game and asking for pancakes.

Justin came through it all very well, built Legos with dad and even ate pizza afterward. But he is now running a high fever. Will update more later. Thank you for messages of support and prayer. I haven’t been able to respond individually but they are received and so appreciated. I keep hearing in my mind, “Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You…”

There was no fear. Only fun and laughs. Until we reached the operating table. Justin was wide-eyed and quivering lip. But he didn’t cry.

Double doors closing on your six-year-old and the walk to waiting room from operating room. Still HARD even though you’ve done it before.

Now we wait. Prayer, Psalms, coffee.

Nicky swished an excellent jump shot in yesterday’s basketball game. His first score. Okay, I was talking and didn’t actually see it but it’s an excellent jump shot swisher in my mind. Later, he tells me this game was so much better because “you didn’t yell so much.” I like to call it cheering. Pushing him to be his best. Okay, Nicky, duly noted.

At school. I got to be Michael’s teacher for a day. He was a diligent little worker bee even with mom in the classroom. Jeff and I can take no credit. He was born that way.

Michael’s second grade reading class. Justin raised his hand to read. (Because he gets to go along when mom works) We all clapped because a first grader didn’t make any mistakes. Yessssss. I’m doing SOMETHING right in our homeschool classroom.

Recess. Two kids arguing. Justin says: dude, love your enemy. That’s right, baby, that’s right.

Bragging about my kids? Never. Well maybe. Counting my blessings? Always. This flawed mom does not walk alone. May we never become too familiar with this Psalm to be awed by its stunning beauty and grace.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Psalm 23 (KJV)

Today, we are headed to the Poconos for a mini-holiday, as the British say. Jeff has returned safely from England, where he ate rabbit stew. Barf. Grace be with you, my friends.

Wake up.

COFFEE.

Nicky and Michael off to school. I need new pants for gym class, mom. My sneakers don’t fit anymore, mom. I need a book from the library, mom. When are my new glasses gonna be in, mom?

Kiss me goodbye. Yes, Michael, you have to. Have a great day. I love you.

Breakfast dishes in. Dishwasher started. Load of laundry in. Justin’s medication, Justin’s boots. Need to call the nurse back. Need to fill out that school form.

Wish I had time for a walk.

Wish I had time to just sit here.

I should eat breakfast.

I have nine unanswered messages.

Justin! Need to teach phonics, spelling, counting.

Working at school after lunch. Do I have anything clean to wear? What’s for dinner? Jeff is in London this week. Not cooking. Perdue Simply Smart chicken nuggets. I have salad that looks acceptable.

Music lessons today at 3:30. Don’t forget. Again.

All of this and none of this is possible without starting the day grounded in truth and proper perspective.

Breathe.

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go through the sea on dry ground. I will harden the hearts of the Egyptians so that they will go in after them. And I will gain glory through Pharaoh and all his army, through his chariots and his horsemen. The Egyptians will know that I am the Lord when I gain glory through Pharaoh, his chariots and his horsemen.”