The Irony of Thankfulness

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately on the subject of thankfulness: What it means, how we gauge it, how deep it runs. And after all of that thought, I've come to a conclusion that even I find ironic: I'm probably more thankful right now than I have been... well, ever.

Hold the phone, say what, are you crazy?!

I know. But it's true. I can't lie and say that I'm thankful that Logan is as sick as he is. I also can't pretend that I'm thrilled to be ready to pop out baby #4 while staring down the barrel of an uncertain and decidedly scary future. But even in the face of those things and many, many more, I also can't lie and say that I don't have anything for which to be thankful.

I'm thankful for our community and for the scores of people who have stepped up to offer help of all sorts. I'm thankful that Logan knocked it out of the park during chemo cycle #1 and was able to get started with cycle #2 in an expeditious manner. I'm even thankful for the delay after cycle #2, because it means we'll have a good shot at having him home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, if all goes well. That wasn't the case according to the 'if all things go totally perfectly schedule'. Sure, losing that week is scary and upsetting, but it was immeasurably wonderful to have him here unexpectedly for Halloween, so I know it'd be utterly amazing if he were able to be here for other bigger holidays as well. I'm thankful that cycle #3 has gone better than #2 so far, and that he's exceeded expectations with regard to staying well enough to be home. He had his check-up and Vincristine this morning, and came back home just as we'd hoped.

At this precise moment, as I sit on the couch next to Logan, I'm thankful that he's awake enough to enjoy Zaboomafoo on Sprout, that he's eating his second Oreo cookie, and that he ate 1/3 of a Costco hot dog and some lemonade for lunch.

But more than all of that, I'm thankful that we're being given a rare chance -- a 1 in 3 million-style rare chance -- to see God moving first-hand in an amazing way. Sure, it still stinks. I wish it wasn't me and my son and my family. But at the same time, I absolutely cannot wait to see what God will do tomorrow to blow my mind. He's already given us awesome MRI results, a sudden and, medically, nearly inexplicable recovery from the infection that had his lungs so compressed by displaced fluid that he could hardly breathe. And now, he's given us a nice and unexpected break from the hospital.

I continue to believe and proclaim that Jesus saves, and for that I'm thankful. And I'm thankful that this year, I have an all-new reason to cling to that truth and to believe. Just as Jesus saved Jairus' daughter, the paralytic and scores of others during His time on this earth, he can also -- and I believe wants to -- save my child. Logan is a light in this world, and I hope that if you've not met him, that you will some day.

So yeah, it feels a little ironic to feel gratitude for any of this. But it's my call to share my feelings and my beliefs as we travel this path, so there you go. Bless you all, and as Thanksgiving approaches, remember to be thankful -- for the blessings and the challenges in your own lives.