Thoughts

 This is last year, during the lilac festival at RBG in Hamilton.  The lilacs were just coming out at this time last year and we were staying at the Tigchelaar's ranch, close to the RBG, while Jim and Mary-Jane travelled to Holland.  Our time at the Tigchelaar's was a holiday for us, staying with Jake and Abby.  We had the quiet of almost country living and the accessibility of work close by and beautiful conservation lands to explore.  It was a holiday of sorts, a fueling up time to prepare us for what we didn't know was going on in Caleb's body.  Caleb was running out of steam as his body slowly filled with cancerous blasts instead of the healthy oxygenated red blood cells and helpful sticky platelets. 

Caleb could only walk a short while before wanting a rest, which was a challenge for Tim and I, who love to get out for a hike.  We'd often find ourselves saying to Caleb: we can't carry you, you're the oldest one here and we need you to walk!  Looking back, it goes down as one of those things that even if he didn't have leukemia, we'd feel bad about saying.  Repeatedly asked how he was feeling, Caleb would say "I'm fine, I feel good!"  Small minds and bodies don't have the words to say "I feel just generally lousy," or "I feel tired all the time."  It's not like a skinned knee or a sick tummy: point to where it hurts.

Caleb's almost unrecognizable  in this picture from firecracker day last year.  We ended up leaving the party because Caleb had retreated inside all by himself, with no more energy left to handle the excitement of fireworks.  Thus we continued on our journey towards Caleb's diagnosis.

Today, it's hard to know what cancer looks like in our family.  I think about it often, trying to sort out just what it means to continue as a family through chemo and all that goes along with leukemia.  Sometimes we feel completely normal and unconcerned, and then little instances change that.  I'm not yet sure how we process all of this, the scares mixed in with the regular routines of life.  Clinic and school.  Chemo drugs and birthday parties.  Blood count reports and learning to read. 

Caleb doesn't yet feel the need to process much of this.  He is sometimes concerned, like when he trips and bangs his port, or the first time that he had a hard fall after stopping blood thinners.  Overall, he takes it as it comes.  "I feel good, much better than before!"  In time, he'll have more questions, but Lord willing, it will be behind us then. 

One day at a time.  Reflecting on things sometimes pulls me out of that mindframe.  The gift of faith brings me back:  "Consider the lilies of the field--they don't labour or spin, yet not even Solomon was dressed as finely as they! Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself, each day has enough trouble of its own." followed by "We give thanks in our weaknesses, for in our weakness, he is strong."  Not our strength, but God's grace.