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I don't feel like being witty tonight. I don't feel like doing much of anything but sleep. I know, from previous experience, that I'm standing on an emotional precipice. I slogged through today, tired from Brady's antics last night, from dealing with my fractured family, from trekking to CHO to sit with Logan for two hours, only to have him tell me repeatedly that he didn't want me -- just daddy, from second-guessing myself and everything I've ever believed about God, faith and the purpose of this life. I know: Pretty weighty material. I could just internalize it all and pretend that I'm fine, but I'm not a particularly good liar anyway. I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I may as well be truthful as I write.

To call all of this 'hard' or 'difficult' or 'challenging' is a massive understatement. It's torturous. It's shattering. It's destructive in ways that I can't even begin to try to express.

Although I'm relieved that Logan didn't bleed out in the ER Tuesday, I'm angry. I'm angry that 'hey, at least he didn't bleed to death' has to qualify as a positive thing in my life. Of course it's a good thing; it's a wonderful thing. But it's sad that bleeding out was ever even an option, that it was ever something that could happen.

I'm really just sad. Very, very sad. I feel like the past week has sucked out every nugget of hope I'd held in my heart. I truly feel hopeless; like it doesn't matter that I've prayed for Logan to be healed every moment of every day for the past 6 months. It feels like I'm just going to lose him and there's nothing I can do about it. I know that when faced with pressure like that, I should just push back harder against my fears and pray more, but friends of mine, I'm so tired. So emotionally spent. I feel so defeated and beaten and drained and broken. I'm so tired of watching him take an apparent step forward only to have it ripped away a day or a week later. I'm tired of watching him suffer, I'm tired of not being with him, I'm tired of dealing with the heartbreak and the disappointment and the setbacks. I just want him to be well. I've been crying out for that. And I wonder, as I stumble along this path, if anything I thought was real is actually real.

As for the day, Logan did continue to improve. Adam's mom called a little while ago to update me and dealt a blow when she said that the next surgery -- the second attempt to remove the mass -- won't be for at least another 10 days. Of course, that's what neuro said; we'll see what oncology says. But the second she said '10 days', fear struck my heart like a bullet. We're not dealing with a slow-growing, low grade tumor. We're dealing with fast-growing, high grade material. Waiting 10 days could be the end of it all. It could negate the good work the chemo did. It could allow the tumor to wrap itself around the nerve fibers all over again.

I know what I should do here. I know I should just pray pray pray. But I can't. I can't see God, I can't feel God, I can't understand God. I don't expect to understand Him, per se. I just expect to feel loved, I expect to see Logan feel loved... and I don't see or feel those things. What's going on here -- our broken family, Logan's suffering, my own emotional strife... all of it -- doesn't line up with the image of God as a loving Father. And so I struggle. I know that it's easy to keep that view of God when you're not suffering. When you're in the thick of it... it's not easy at all.

I should note, just to be fair, that as I was putting Abby to bed, I did my Bible-flip thing and came to the story of Jesus healing the blind beggar. He clarified that the man hadn't done anything to cause his blindness; it wasn't from sin or something his parents had done. Rather he was blind so that God could show his power in the man's life. The tears spilled over as I struggled through the words. Are they true? Do the apply in Logan's life? Is it all lost for him when it comes to life on this earth? Will he use Logan to show His healing power? I wish I knew.

Anyway, I'm sorry for the negative post. If I know me, I'll be back to my usual self soon enough. We all have highs and lows, after all. Pray, if you wish. I want to believe, I want my faith and hope restored. But right now, it all seems so far away.