Just Find A Vein

Last night I couldn’t sleep, and around 1:30 in the morning I began to pray for all the families who have a child facing a terrifying diagnosis.

I prayed for the mom who has to choose be with her sick child at the hospital or the healthy ones at home.

I prayed for the nurses and doctors who are having to make terrifying decisions that could make a permanent impact in the life of a child.

I prayed for the patient who has been poked and prodded for the millionth time who is praying they JUST FIND A VEIN.

I prayed for the ones impacted by a lab result that reveals the diagnosis.

I prayed for the kid whose parents are across the nation in another city and who is hugging his blanket and praying to live.

I prayed for the EMTs responsible for transporting these precious lives. The midnight runs from a small town to a big city. The quiet calm they find to care for the child who is convulsing from his high fever.

I prayed and then I thanked.

I thanked God I was awake. The months of September through January evoke tremendous traumatic moments for me and our family. I thanked God I got through the scariest days of my life. I thanked him I could feel.

I thanked God for the empathy and compassion of others who gave so much to us.

I thanked God.

In the middle of the night I thanked him. I thanked him for the pain and suffering I can finally allow myself to feel. These months were the longest days of our experience. 18 months of bloodwork, genetic tests, awful treatments,...

I’m thankful because I get TODAY. TODAY I HAVE ALL MY BABIES UNDER ONE ROOF. Other moms and dads don’t get that opportunity.

My kids suffer still from flash backs and terror. They have faced terror and fear. Where is my mom? Who are these people? Why does it feel selfish to hate my brother’s disease? Why can’t I play with my friends?

Today they are compassionate and full of wisdom no textbook or counseling could provide.

Find your thankful. Then offer it to another who is struggling to just wake up and face another day. Offer it to the dad who drives hours and works hours and never misses a moment with his sick child. Offer it to the single mom. The kid who is left at home.

Then they’ll pass it on. That’s how we heal.

All of the things you’re learning in 2020 will be the healing balm for another life you’ve yet to recognize needs your hope.

Hope rises again.