The next 15


 One of the gifts of a very young child getting childhood cancer, At least in the case of my child, is his inability to dread. He lives for today. He lives for the next 15 minutes. He lives for the opportunity to get the thing we said he could get after he ate the food, said sorry to the sister, patiently waited for his turn....

And so he goes through life just like this. He faces the next 15 minutes. He fights the blood draw. And then he's over it. He fights the chemo. And then he's over it. On to the next 15 minutes. Even after an epic meltdown his parents are both frazzled by, he's back to cracking butt jokes and other tomfoolery. 

But his mother...

She dreads. She has a countdown of days for chemo, she examines her calendar carefully and argues when her husband says they have longer than she calculated (why would I challenge the math major?!) She internalizes all the potential what ifs and stays up late reading medical journals  her husband has cautioned her not to read, because he knows who she is.... The downfall of loving research and logic and statistics is then you understand research, logic, and statistics. 

But research, logic and statistics do not include God's involvement. You can't statistically measure divine intervention. People have tried. And isn't it all in some ways divine intervention? 

The reality is, as every cancer patient knows, statistics do not bring peace. Even a 99% cure rate means there's a 1% who has a sweet face who is now in a grave with a weeping mother. 

So what does the mother of the living do? 

"And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

It's never felt more real to me. the call never felt more urgent and beautiful and hopeful. I'm called to humble myself. To take stalk of who I am and who he is and how little I can control. I'm called to be like my boy. I'm called to rest like my Rowan.

 If my father holds all the information, and the future, if he holds even more than Rowan's mother could ever hope to hold....if he's holding Rowan and his mother and his father and his siblings too... 

I'm to be like my son.

 Has there ever been a kinder command? To trust. To wait. To not anxiously look at my circumstances and make judgement calls about my God, but to look at my God and make judgement calls about my circumstances. And if I can't accurately do that.... Then to just look at my God and at the next 15 minutes. 

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” 

My Christ spoke this to his grown up children and their families. To the masses of them.  He already knows tomorrow's trouble. He tells me I don't have to fear tomorrow's pain. Does this also mean I get to weep and be angry the way my child weeps and has anger? Does my father wait patiently with me as my husband waits with my son? Cries with my son? even knowing the outcome? I think he does. I know he does. 

 Take today. Take heart. Do not fear tomorrow's pain. 

We can face the next 15 minutes. 

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