This time three days ago, we were in our room at the Believe in Tomorrow house. The Monkey was in bed. He knew we were going to the hospital the next day, so a doctor could fix his wiggly arm.
This time two days ago, we were in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (the PICU), coaxing another round of steroids into a very sad/angry/scared three year old.
This time last night, we were wheeling him back to his room after another MRI. He was overtired and sad/angry/scared. He had spent the day napping, eating, and walking on his own, but was pretty fed up with medicine, tests and “I promise this won’t hurt” stuff. (Can’t blame him.)
Tonight we are, again, at the Believe in Tomorrow house. All of us! Repeat: All of us. My son, who had brain surgery two days ago, is well enough to leave the hospital.
He had a clear MRI and we were discharged this afternoon. He’s asleep in the bed next to me, passed out from a hard day of playing. And walking back to the house from the hospital. And then playing some more.
I’m thankful for so much this evening.
I keep hearing a hymn in my head that my mom could sing from memory. She was raised in the ARP church in South Carolina and knew a heckuva lot of hymns by heart. (And what she didn’t know, she would sort of mumble-sing confidently until the words she knew came around again. It makes me laugh to remember her doing that. It usually happened around the third verse.)
The refrain ended with: Oh come to the Father through Jesus his Son, And give Him the glory, great things he hath done.
I am thankful for my Monkey’s health. I’m thankful for our community and family, which has come in really close around us. I wish my Mom were here to revel in it with me. But- still- great things He hath done.