Wet Ink

Each day here bleeds together like ink on a wet piece of paper. It’s hard to tell where one character ends and another begins. We’re told to write in ink on legal documents and other important papers because it’s permanent, but even ink can’t hold up to just a few drops of water. They come splashing down to destroy the definition each character the pen has worked so hard to create. The paper of our life now is filled with blobs of ink all over the page. We try so hard not to let the paper tear but the drops just won’t stop coming down long enough to let it dry.

One half of our family stays at home and makes trips to the hospital. The other half stays at the hospital and makes trips home. Either child feels the divide greater than both adults combined. Izzy has been feeling well the past few days which makes it harder for her emotionally. This trip has been filled with tears over things forgotten at home and a longing to see what her room looks like again. She misses her dog (only one apparently) and each night as we lay in bed she asks if Daddy and Carter are laying in bed too. They visited this weekend and Carter was more delicate this trip too. He cried this morning when we didn’t have Cheerios for him to eat and when I asked him what else he wanted he replied, “I just want to be with you always,” through his tears. Lord knows that’s all I want too, to be with both of my children always. But I can’t.

If things go well overnight we will go home tomorrow. Then we’ll come back two days later to begin the week long series of testing to find results of how well the chemo has worked. Our prayer is that the results of these tests will show No Evidence of Disease. We need to see a good response to continue forward with high hope for a cure. Then the day after Christmas we are scheduled for Bone Marrow Transplant.

This journey has taken a toll on each of us. We need desperately for God to save us. If you pray for Izzy this week I would ask you to echo the cry of my heart found within “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Just as the nation of Israel waited for their savior to come, a little girl named Israelle is waiting too.

Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israelle,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israelle!