The Day Our World Got Rocked

February 10, 2012 was a Friday and it was the day we had been waiting for since Monday.  It was the day we would find out what these abnormalities on TJ's brain actually were.  For me - I was really hoping to find some answers as to what was going on with my son.  I don't think I ever really thought it was cancer, but maybe I was in denial.  That was one of these hardest days of my life - the waiting, worrying, praying, anxiety, sadness, anger - I believe every emotion was displayed that whole entire day.  I've blogged about this day before, so I won't go into all the details - I just felt the need to share.  The picture and the words of that day are so vivid in my mind - there are days I don't think I'll ever forget them.  Jon and I have had the conversation this week that we have no idea what it means (or looks/feels like) to live in remission.  We don't know the struggles of ongoing treatments, the constant worry of is it going to come back and when, the continuous fear of is this the last?  TJ's journey was fast, short and hard.  I believe that each journey is different and both are hard.  I honestly can't believe that it has been two years ago that our little world got rocked.  There are days it seems like yesterday and at other times it seems like forever ago.  I know I've shared with you before that the seconds have been so much harder than the firsts.  I'll be honest - we are struggling.  So I guess on this anniversary date I ask for your prayers.  Pray that God continue to heal our broken hearts.  To seek His will and direction in our lives.  And to fill this void in our lives that only He can fill.

I had someone ask me last week - "how do you do it? how do you be happy?"  And for me, there are a few reasons.
     First of all - everything I do - from getting out of bed, continuing life, decisions we need to make - is totally based on the three precious boys I have left in this house.  I NEVER want them to feel like they are less important than TJ, that they aren't enough or that I love them less.  Yes, I still mess up and often my broken heart speaks or acts out before my mind has time to think about it.  But as parents isn't our ultimate goal for our children to have a personal relationship with Christ and to someday spend eternity with them in Heaven?  Well, we have that for one of our boys - why would we stop now?  We need to love, support and guide them just the same as we did with TJ - our job isn't finished.  We must keep pressing forward even when there are days I want to just pull the covers over of my head and stay in bed all day.    
     Another answer to those questions - I CHOOSE to try to look at the positives.  It is a daily choice everyone has to make - do I want to look at the glass half full or half empty?  I've been around people who look at the glass half empty - they are not fun to be with - in fact I avoid these people.  Oh, believe me I have my days where everything is half empty!  This isn't an easy task - but it is something I am consciously aware of and try my hardest to look at the brighter side of life.  In fact Will and I just had this very conversation today!  Once we start focusing on the good/positive things - our attitude changes.
    And the last is prayer.  I know that the only way we ever got through TJ's whole journey was because people like you lifted us up in prayer.  And I believe prayers are still being lifted up on our behalf.  We definitely could still use them.  We've got a lot going on right now - not all of which I'm going to share right now, but one I want you all to be in prayer about - Jon's Dad.  He is still continuing his fight with cancer.  Pray for healing, less pain and strength for Don.  Pray for renewed energy, strength, rest and peace for Glenda.  Prayers for guidance with the doctors.

This journey hasn't been the easiest but I'm thankful I don't have to walk it alone.  I'm thankful for Jon, family, friends and even though there are times I don't feel it - I'm thankful for God's presence and Him carrying us through this walk.