So: Clarity is in good spirits. She forbade us to be sad, because after tomorrow she will have a cool war wound to brag about--but she wont show it to people, because that would be inappropriate. We will know tomorrow morning if the tumor is benign or malignant, and the course of action needed. The best case scenario, they are able to simply excise the grapefruit-sized sac obstructing her lung and be done with it. Worst case, they confirm Hodgkins Disease, and chemotherapy and radiation treatments will shrink the cancer before cutting it out and, prayerfully, prevent malignancy from spreading. We all know the drill by now, dont we? Cancer, random cancer, cancer everywhere. Cancer, cancer, cancer. The ward is full of children with ailments of every scope and scale. I drifted through halls and could not fathom the hearts of those working there, days on end, weeks to years, every day a new malady, a new disease, yet same as all those gone before. With every new child, another mother, another father like me--a hopeful, desperate, bargaining soul trying to make sense of the sudden senselessness of it, the consequence to actions never experienced. Every day, more eyes holding back tears, fighting to be brave, as brave as the children themselves. Some ask Where is God? Not me. For all those children, there are strangers whove dedicated their lives to fighting for them in a broken world. Every one of those kids has an advocate, a warrior, a sage and a craftsperson--a team of them, an army of them, so bent to the purpose of healing, of bringing LIFE, that the skill of their work transcends time itself. Time stands still. For hours, motionless save for the working of fingers, of focus--all those years of training the mind poured out into the body afflicted by untimely ruin-- for every moment they labor, they add hours, years to the lives of their charge. From the most lauded scholar to the man whistling as he trundles the cart of refuse along, they live for the children. And yesterday, and tonight, and tomorrow, they will fight for my daughter. With all they have, they will fight for her life. Where is God? Hes right there. And all around me--through the moments of silence filled with my tears when I recognize the place my daughter holds within my heart, that it is not hardened, nor bent to the destructive tendencies of cynical men. Through the flood of responses, born of the goodness in the human capacity to care. I cling to him, knowing even the worst case scenario--I am not angry. I do not ask why. I ask how, sure. But why is a waste of time. I ask How may I best fight for her too? How may I best bring life? I love her. I love my son, who spent the last of his savings to make her smile with impromptu presents from the gift shop. My wife who, like me, breathes deep each moment in this horrifying preface to a new chapter that could bring incredible victory--and terrible sorrow alike, breathes deep each wisp of life as it fills our existing moments with the awareness of what -real life- is. I love God, the Lord, the Holy Spirit. And I love you, as little a frequency as that may seem in a world of so many channels. They will take her downstairs for prepping at 10am; Caleb and I will be there with Jenn. At 11, she will be taken into the OR. Keep praying, please. We need it.
Posted on: Fri, 16 Jan 2015 03:49:14 +0000