He lay there silent, head tilted back to the ceiling with the near cerulean wall behind him reflecting a comforting light over the space.
“See, Mom? I’m just going rest here now. I can do this,” he says quietly while the tech’s hand jiggles at the movement his words cause and she asks him not to speak for a while.
He sighs and gets quiet and brave; ever the conundrum. His bones are young, his brain is possibly younger, but his heart is oh, so old.
And when it’s over and quiet in the space, he clutches his brand new pillow – the softest – and snuggles it close. “Maybe I will name him Nemo,” he tells my heart friend and hospital help as she huddles close.
Hours later, we sit in the soaring pavilion, the awful, long day done with more peace than we expected; perhaps even more than we deserved. And while he sits close and tight, I talk to him about things that shouldn’t be. Cancer things. He listens and he asks, his damaged body growing tight in my lap as I hug him close to me, and then he relaxes into the hug, looking lost as he lay his stubbly, baby soft head against me. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”
On the floor of the pavilion with Lurie Foundation family
He slept and when he woke, he tightened his hold on the plush orange pillow, the day’s symbol of soft rest in a harsh reality, and he spoke wisdom older than his bones. “I think his name should be ‘lost-and-found’. Because Nemo was lost and then he was found and sometimes that happens in the hospital too.”
“For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” Zephaniah 3:17 (NLT)
Sometimes we get lost when the world tips a bit. But then we find and are found once again – because the axis and anchor never really moved beneath us. And the knowledge that the anchor of Jesus never changes or leaves us lost means that pain will not define us. It can draw us, but it cannot shape us. It can make us, but it cannot break us – because pain is never the whole story, but only just a part.
Please sing over us, Abba, that we might never be lost, but always found…in you.
Moment by moment
