I slept on my comfortable couch next to Geoffrey last night. We are in a new room to us with many windows and a courtyard view. We are quickly running out of rooms on the hem-onc floor that have not been a temporary home for one of our three kids. I am not convinced that is a good accomplishment, but we have been well cared for. We have received superb medical treatment, on so many levels, from such compassionate people.

I woke up several times in the night as medications were given, vital signs were measured, labs were drawn. And at 5:30 AM, I woke up to go downstairs and meet Baba Micah (our beloved host of nearly a year and UberMD driver) and Titus who brought Ryan to come for surgery this morning to remove his central line. We met with Ryan’s surgeons and the anesthesia team. Many of them have walked this journey with our family and know both of our boys all too well. This early morning, it felt as if they were celebrating with us the victory of Ryan no longer needing his line.

As always, when we turned to walk away from our sweet boy as he entered an operating room, the love swelled with the desire for him to be safe and comfortable and okay.

Rather than wait in a waiting room, I am back on the third floor sitting next to another little boy I love who will have his turn to go under anesthesia in about an hour.  For G, he will have a three hour MRI of his legs to reassess the bone infections. The results of this imaging will help guide the team as to the next steps within his treatment.

It is too much to hold [Deep breath]. And yet, at least for this moment, I don’t feel overwhelmed. Instead, I am deeply aware of a loving God who is with me and all that I love this day. It feels like an understatement to say how grateful I am for a community that reminds us over and again that we are not alone.

One of the gifts I have received through the suffering of this season is a willingness to live with open hands. It is not apathetic surrender but rather a trust which requires wholehearted living.