Meanwhile, in the days that march inexorably towards July 7, I struggle in between joy, frantic worry that I’ll never finish everything on time, and a deep sense of gratitude that our oldest baby will have BOTH parents at her wedding…
It almost didn’t happen. Twelve years ago, Pedro’s non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma relapsed (he’d only been in remission for a few weeks) with a vengeance–this time, it crossed the blood-brain barrier and entered his spinal fluids. He lost forty pounds in two weeks. He had excruciating headaches and the muscles in his face froze. For the next five months, his life hung in the balance as doctors pumped him full of ‘rescue chemo’ and I traveled in between Bozeman, MT and San Francisco, CA each time he started ‘circling the drain’.
Each time, God intervened.
And so I set aside my worries (will I finish remodeling the wedding dress before we leave tomorrow? How will two college students survive on tiny incomes during their last two quarters of college? What will we forget as we load the van for the trip?) and pause to speak my gratitude to God who brought our little family through the trial–different from what we were before, but stronger, more faithful and definitely more grateful than we had been.
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