A Shift in Perspective

A funny thing happened about 48 hours ago. Shortly after I confessed my weakness, my worries began to melt away. I'd been waking several times each night, my heart and mind hard-pressed and heavy with worry, but not last night; only Brady was responsible for my wakings. Of course I'm still concerned about Logan's future, but somehow, the burden of the past six-plus months and of the months of treatment still to come seem markedly lighter. Coincidence? No way. I don't believe in coincidences. So many thanks to all of you for helping to lift me up.

I have energy again. I have a spring in my step (though that could be because I'm freezing and need that springiness to keep my core warm -- my East Coast roots are ashamed of me, but I'm a complete pansy when it comes to cooler temperatures these days). My wry sense of humor is back. I feel more optimistic, more hopeful, more in-line with how I'd been feeling for the majority of the past several months. Though I'm still irritated with Him, I must give thanks to God for the renewed strength -- mental and physical -- that has served to rejuvenate me and my outlook.

We've had a pleasant couple of days here at home. I remarked to Adam this evening that I think Logan is actually doing better now than he was before he went in for the failed surgery attempt last week. He has more energy (if that's possible) and is definitely eating and drinking more. He's having fun; he's acting like a normal 4-year old boy leading a normal life, save the helmet on his head and a slightly crossed right eye. He and Abby and Isaac enjoyed an energetic diaper fight this afternoon followed by more of the same post-dinner this evening. (Lest you should wonder, a 'diaper fight' involves each participant arming him or herself with an handful of unused (I do still have some sense in my tired little head) diapers and then launching said bottom covers at one another. Much laughing, running, shrieking and ducking is also in play.) I started to get annoyed with the volume and the chaos of it all, but I stopped myself because there was something so utterly ridiculous and fabulous about the scene that I just wanted to sit and -- ironically -- listen to them at play.

There's value in living in the moment. It's something I'm learning just now at 33, after rushing through much of my life engaged in a frenetic race against no one but myself. I was often so desperate to reach each checkpoint, each glorified goal, that I failed to notice the flowers that dot the side of the road. But not anymore. My noisy, crazy, wacky kids coupled with this entire horrible ordeal are teaching me to live differently; to live better, more effectively. More fully. I'm going to watch the sun rise over the ocean when the opportunity presents itself. I'm going to take the long, meandering surface streets home instead of the freeway sometimes. I'm going to move slowly and deliberately. I'm going to watch my tongue and strive to speak sweeter words when the opportunities arise or when they're needed by a challenged soul. I can't emerge from all of this unchanged, after all.

Please keep praying for Logan and his complete healing. I still believe that total wellness is possible for my sunshine. Please also pray for the surgical team next Wednesday as we go back for a second go at the mass. Please pray for wisdom and sure hands for Dr. Sun, and for successful and safe removal of as much of the tumor as possible. Moreso, pray that God will keep His finger on the masses and keep them from growing between now and then (and post-op as well). Finally, pray for our family time over the days leading up to surgery-day. We're in a sort of 'rest' phase at the moment and I want to really enjoy our time together before we get back into a hospital routine with surgery followed by the transplant cycle.

Thank you so much reading along and for praying for our family. Blessings to you.