Day +11. Geoffrey said these words, “I am not going to get better,” as tears streamed down his little face. My reply, as tears flooded down mine: “Pole Geoffrey, but you are going to get better. Geoffrey, I love you so much.”
Over the past few days, I have said these words on repeat. In moments of suffering as well as those where there has been relief, “I love you so much.” As he sits on my lap or asks me to sleep next to him in his airplane bed. As he refuses to eat anything or drinks a cup of milk. When he needs “to choke” (Geoffrey’s word for vomit) or his “teeth” are hurting. When he feels afraid. When I feel afraid. “I love you so much.”
There are many things I do not know, cannot control, am unable to fix. Oh, but of this I am certain: I love this little boy. God loves this little boy.
As Jean Vanier writes: “Prayer is first and foremost not saying prayers. It is opening the most intimate parts of ourselves to God.” Here I am – praying as we wait. Perhaps this love is like an offering. Small and imperfect, but what I have to give.