What a Difference a Day Makes (Hope and Healing at Home)

x

We were sitting in the living room and laughing last night. The kids went to bed and my father-in-law asked, "Hard to believe where you are today compared to a week ago, right?" A week ago we were sitting in a room on the general pediatric wing watching our daughter writhe in pain. We were in pain as parents unable to relieve our daughter's suffering.

Today we are sitting in the living room playing "Head's Up", watching football, eating Ramen bowls, and organizing winter clothes because Madeline (and Maggie) spent the majority of the day outside with friends. Madeline is making her way up and down the stairs. Currently, she is upstairs enjoying companionship with nine adolescents watching Jumanji and eating excess amounts of candy. 

Living in the moment is an important practice to learn, yet sometimes holding onto an image of the future is equally important. There were times last week that I couldn't see seven days ahead and wondered if we would ever get our strong, fierce, and playful daughter back. Each time I noticed a glimpse, I would conjure hope to see ahead. I needed to know that the future held her healing. The moment gave a glimpse to the brain's ability to imagine with hope. I want to live in the moment and see a glimpse of possibility. I also want to trust in a God who holds the future, even when it doesn't seem it will work out. One and the other; moment and future, together.

But today I am grateful for recovery and healing and love and friendship. It held us together a week ago and it sustains us as we watch Madeline connect with friends and laugh at movies and grow physical and emotional strength. (Pray she gains weight; she lost more than 10% of her body weight in the hospital).

One last thing. It snowed in South Carolina yesterday. I am not terribly happy about this, but it does give us a connection to our friends in Michigan, Minnesota, South Dakota, Illinois, and Nebraska where we have experienced cold and snow for many decades. It is interesting how snow is so abnormal that it becomes an event. Snow in the midwest means salt, plows, and inconvenience. Here it means "shut down" and in the absence of snow equipment and fluctuating temperatures, it means staying home, staying safe, and being smart. Southerners are not weak in the face of snow (as I may have judged last week leading up to the storm); just differently prepared. But even more, the joy of snow is alive here and fun to watch as parents scramble to find coats, boots, and gloves and as the children leave the house for Frosty's playground.