refuge – a condition of being safe or sheltered from pursuit, danger, or trouble.

For the last 31 days, this “airplane bed” has served as a sacred space for us. It has been a place to hide. To rest. To laugh and cry. To play. To pray.

Up and down, this bed has traveled with us both literally and figuratively on this transplant journey.


A beautiful combination of toughness and tenderness has been required. To survive. And to thrive.


Questions without answers have been asked.


Love, in its purest form, has been shared. And stretched.


Time has slowed down once more to teach me what it means to be like a child. To imagine without filters. To make new friends. To express emotions so boldly: I am afraid. I am sad. I am happy you are here.


“Will you hold my hand?,” has been asked over and again by this little boy. By day and by night.


Prayers for healing have been prayed, with and without words. For Geoffrey. For Ryan. For Alice.


Giggles have been sweet to my soul.


A surprising sense of home and peace have accompanied us along the way… God has been near. While I am longing for the day when we will be able to leave our little nest in Room 3535, I am grateful for the refuge we have experienced.

** So much thanks to my friend Staci Kennelly for capturing these moments on film.


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