Full Cup

Grant has an infection, but nothing crazy-serious. They are investigating the what, where and how and in the meantime giving him a do-all antibiotic. This explains the fever. The fury of sneezes today are just cute baby-sneezes.

As a result of the infection, Grant is staying in intensive care another day and night. Hopefully tomorrow he'll have the infection cleaned out and the chest tube removed (it drains the gunk from the incision on his chest). Then he can move to moderate care and we can hold him. The little squirt just begs to be cuddled but it has been hands-off for us all this time.

Shan is sleeping well and is doing great.

This is redundant, but we are so thankful. Thankful for our experience of God's direct care for us, as well as His indirect care through all of you. You can't imagine how amazing it is to be here at the focal point of all of your real, tangible, touchable love.

As we've caught up on sleep and finished filling out paperwork and finally figured out where to microwave food, etc, etc, it has been quite an adventure to engage the other people here that also have children in intensive care. So many stories, so many sad situations, so much pain. But also so much courage, faith, hope and love.

We have just begun to get an inkling of how to be supportive to those in the midst of a struggle--what helps, what hinders; what lightens the load, what burdens. We're learning this both as we are in receipt of others' care for us, and as we attempt to give that care away to others that don't have any of their own.

Bear with me as I share the following story. I just have to, as it has been one of the hallmark experiences on this journey of ours and I'd be remiss if I didn't force myself to digest it further and crystallize it in writing.

Tom & Julie brought Michael, their 10 year old son (today is his birthday), here yesterday for open-heart surgery. He was born with his heart installed backwards, and while they've had a few surgeries in years past to keep him going, it wasn't until recently that a procedure became available to fix the problem long-term. His condition worsened this year to the point that they had no choice but to undergo the surgery. There were several complications that turned the 5-hour surgery into a 7-hour surgery and they almost lost him a couple of times. The gut-wrenching horror of those 7 hours for that family is hard to fathom.

We didn't meet Tom & Julie until today, but we couldn't help observe the unfolding of events last night in the relatively small space that makes up the waiting area of the 5th floor PICU (pulmonary intensive care unit). We happened to have been just given a small vase with a few beautiful roses that day and we had it by our side to brighten the sterile room. It struck us that the tear-stained woman across the hall could really use one. She had just stepped into the rest room so we took a chance and brought a single rose to the man that was with her. "This is for her," we said with a gentle smile. "Thanks" he said with slight surprise as he unburied his face from his hands.

And that was it. We walked back and sat down.

I was powerfully reminded last night that focusing on the needs of others (vs. my own), allowing compassion to well up, and then responding to that compassion in simple acts of care feels oh-so good! Much better than even all the wonderfulness of being in receipt of such care (which is pretty darn wonderful). It was a small nothing, dropping a rose into some guy's hand. But ya know, we hadn't felt that good all week. So I'm reminded again that the universe really is designed to work best opposite our typical leanings--tis indeed better to give than to receive. But all of you reading this have been so giving to us, you certainly already know that!

Understand, too, that we only gave away what we were given. We can't claim any ownership of that simple act. We really can't even feel good about what we did, we can only feel good that it was done. The awareness, the motivation, the hurt in our heart for that family, and even the rose itself, were all given to us. None of that was ours--we didn't manufacture it, we didn't even find it--it was given to us. So we can't be proud, we can only be thankful that God and you have filled up our cups with your love and care.

The mother, Julie, stopped us today to introduce herself and ask if it was us who left the rose for her. She said we couldn't begin to understand how much that meant to her. She said she can't help herself--she just has to give us a hug.

Sigh...our cup is indeed full. And again, we can't take credit for it! So thank you for being used to fill our cups so we were able to siphon off a bit and help fill the empty cups of those around us.

Any pray for little Michael--that he'd heal. And for Tom & Julie--that their cups would be full.


Sheesh...when did this blog turn into my diary?? I feel sheepish...