Lately, this sweet little piece of internet, my blog, has been on my mind. I’ve thought back to the times I sat in front of my laptop in silence and oftentimes darkness in our hotel room those first few weeks at St. Jude while Willa was sleeping and tapped my fingers on this keyboard relentlessly, pouring my heart and soul out in a meager attempt to begin processing what was unfolding before me.
This blog and my writing became an extremely useful tool and important part of my grieving/growing process. But once things slowed down and there was no more tumor and we moved onto the next trauma of our lives (moving to a new city), I, in a sense, neglected this space and in doing so I neglected devoted followers of Willa’s story and those that truly enjoyed reading the words written here, those that essentially cracked open my diary with me.
Because of these recent realizations, I wanted to breathe a little life back into this site and share some thoughts I had written down the day before I left Raleigh for Memphis this time around:
I’m forcing myself to put all my embroidery away and start packing.
Most of you have been following along for some time and you’re aware that our youngest daughter, Willa, was diagnosed with retinoblastoma (cancer of the retina) while in infancy.
It’s been six weeks since Willa’s last EUA scan at St. Jude and tomorrow the two of us head across I40 to Memphis.
I dread these trips so much. Not because I hate driving(I really love it). Not because St. Jude is a crappy place(it’s one of the most incredible, heart-stretching places). I dread these trips because it’s like our family’s life holds its breath and not until we receive those results can we breathe again.
Each approaching scan, as I’m pulling away from our home, my other two kiddos and my husband, it’s like ripping a band-aid off that you really wish could just stay put. Because once removed, there lies a gaping wound, brokenness that hasn’t fully repaired itself. And that hurts and it’s scary, but you know that band-aid just can’t stay there forever, that wounds don’t heal that way no matter how much you wish that they did.
So tomorrow on the road, while I’m “keeping it between the mustard and the mayonnaise” I’ll think a lot, cry some, listen to bad talk radio while I’m intermittently cursing in road rage, but most importantly, I’ll finally invite The Lord in to examine what’s under that band-aid together. It’ll hurt and it’ll be scary, but it’s always always good, and whether my wounds have been festering or mending, when I bring them before our Great Physician, they’re met with gentleness and mercy. And healing always follows.
Take this post as an update, a glimpse, but most of all a sort of apology for neglect and a thanks for giving me an outlet in desperate times. Tonight, with Willa’s EUA early tomorrow morning, sitting here in our hotel room once again, behind the same laptop screen…it’s a sort of reunion. And I can’t say I don’t like the familiarity of it all….