• Conceding Christmas Part Two: The Response

    Conceding Christmas is the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia. This blog is one of my favorites. Here is Part Two.   Conceding Christmas I curl up in a ball. Think about that verse from Matthew 11. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Do I believe it? Can I live it? Release him. Trust me. Every moment I don’t let go, fear eats away at me. I live in bondage to the terror that Kyle will…

  • Conceding Christmas Part One: The Call

    Conceding Christmas is one of my favorite past posts and tells the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia.  Here is Part One: Conceding Christmas 3 AM I burrow deeper under the covers, the bed large and lonely. Thirteen days until Christmas, but I’m not planning a celebration. Arranging a funeral seems more likely. My husband stayed at the hospital tonight with our ten-year-old son. This time, Kyle struggles with fever, low blood counts, and multiple infections—staph in his central line and fungus in his left lung. The neighbor’s Christmas lights shine through my curtains, pulsing red and green. An ache…

  • Parking Lot Prayer

    Some miracles are hidden. And they don’t feel like miracles at all. At least not in the moment. Eight years ago today, I sat on a blue plastic chair, hands clasped in my lap, in a sterile examining room and struggled to process four words no parent ever wants to hear. Words that carried enough power to punch a hole in my world and rip up the foundation. My son’s doctor, an older man with glasses sliding off his nose and a brown-striped tie, balanced on a tiny round stool. He rested his arms on a laminate desk that extended from the wall and took in a breath, as if…

  • Where Is The Miracle? Part One

    I follow a lot of CaringBridge sites. CaringBridge allows a family in medical crisis to post updates, prayer requests, and needs to a page that friends and family can access. The sites I follow have catchwords like “children” and “oncology.” My rooting in the pediatric cancer community comes out of the four years our family spent battling leukemia with our oldest son, Kyle. Because we’ve tread our own rough journey, people send me CaringBridge links, ask me to write encouraging emails, and pray for their friends and family that are dealing with similar struggles. I consider their requests a privilege. The way I see it, if I can’t take something…

  • Courting Catastrophe

    The gun was small and black. It looked plastic.  A party raged in the apartment next door—music blared, people laughed. Oblivious to the nightmare transpiring in my living room. My mind sprinted forward, sorting through the possibilities of how the next few minutes could play out, while my body melted into the couch, overloaded with the mental pictures my mind produced. I should yell. Run. Do something.