A Spring of Joy

Brown eyes searching my face, my oldest son leans his lanky body into me then tucks his head under my chin. “Did I hurt your boo-boo?” he asks, pulling back and looking at the red gash on my neck.

Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him into my embrace, “No, buddy, I’m fine.”

“Mom? I don’t like looking at where you had your surgery.”

I look into his eyes, wishing I could read into his soul and know what’s really going on behind his penetrating gaze. “What… What do you think about when you see it?” I stumble over my words, “What…? Tell me… what’s going on in your mind? What are you feeling, buddy?”

“When I see that scar it means you have cancer. And cancer means you could die.” His eyes fill with tears, his voice grows thick and husky as he whispers plaintively, “I don’t want my mommy to die.”

I groan inwardly, the groaning of Creation in a fallen world.

I whisper prayers over his head, and I remind him of God’s faithfulness to me, to us. I remind him that the cancer has been removed, and I am getting stronger. Yet even as I pray I want to scream. No six-year-old should have to bear such a heavy burden, to live with this fear. I will not run from this and I will teach him how to live in his reality. And we will walk forward, trusting together.

But I ask you to please pray for my Ash as he weathers these storms with us. There is much he doesn’t say, but he feels deeply.

Oh how my Bear makes me laugh…

While I was away on my St. Louis trip, my mom helped Brian out with the kids during the day. As she was leaving one evening she told Bri that if they needed anything to just give her a call. Micah chimed in with, “That’s right Daddy. If you need a wife, you just call Grandma!”

There is something mildly disturbing about that. And about this:

As Bear and Bella play throughout the day, she will often come up and say to him, “Will you be married to me?” And off they trot to play house. He the Daddy. She the Mommy. Their stuffed animals are their children.

One morning, she asked him her typical question and took his hand. Micah squealed, started pulling her down the hallway, half dragging her behind him, “Yes!” he shouted. Then, “Come on, Lover!” (Methinks he’s heard Bri call me that one too many times.)

For those of you who don’t know, Bri’s company car is a BMW. Bear loves it and wants to drive it everywhere we go. Because it’s fast, and he is all about the fast. So much so that the other day as he ran to his room, grabbed his coat, and ran right back to the kitchen, he told me, “Mommy, I am as fast as a Beemerang!” Oh, his mind amazes me.

Bear has his many hard moments, too. The past couple weeks have been a whirlwind for all of our children, and Bear especially has begun to melt down. Always on the fearful side, almost every thing he says now comes out with quavering voice and trembling lips as he fights back the tears. And it is heartwrenching, but at the same time it is laughable (hidden laughter, I assure you).

One night last week Bri got “iced in” in DC. That same day my mom had been up helping me with the kids and her car broke down, so she got stuck at our house. I was explaining that to Bear as I tucked him and told him Grandma would spend the night with us. “But,” tears filled his eyes, “But whose going to fix Grandaddy’s lunch?”

Oh, that sweet boy! I explained Grandaddy was quite capable of fixing his own lunch.

“But what did he do for supper?” Bear could hardly speak, his voice was so thick with tears. I explained he would heat up leftovers and be just fine. “Okay.” He rolled over, grabbed his blankie, and sighed, “I just need to know my Grandaddy is okay.”

Then this morning, I was chiding Bear for once again bossing his sister and taking things from her hands. Reminding him how to behave in those situations, Bear looked at me, mouth turned down, eyes filling, “But Mommy, I just can’t remember!”

I responded with, “Well, sweetheart, you just need to work really hard at thinking and remembering before you do it.”

Tears spilled out and he crawled up on my lap. “But, Mommy, I just can’t remember HOW to remember.”

The sweetness. It makes my heart melt, y’all.