After school today, I took my daughter Bella to Pinkberry. It is one of our favorite places, and one of our favorite things to do

Sugar load after blood draw!

Sugar load after blood draw!


Today, however, I had an agenda.

I had to explain to my daughter that in one month’s time, she would be having yet ANOTHER surgery. One, which would require her to be in two full leg casts for at least a month.

Over summer vacation.

Instead of swimming lessons,

a camping trip,

day camp,

and a week of vacation.

Even under normal circumstances, no parent wants to be the bearer of this type of news.

And in our case, this news is absolutely laden with anxiety, fear, and trembling.

And rightly so.

Bella has already had numerous surgeries and in




the surgeries were rife with complications – two of the surgeries almost took her life.

Now, I understand the “cup half full” theory.

We DO count our blessings. Bella is here with us. We are very fortunate – especially in lieu of the fact that some very dear friends of ours just lost their five-year-old son to cancer and my heart is with them every single day.

And compared to past surgeries, this one is not quite as intense or scary. (Although for us – this surgery has many added risk factors than it would for most).

So yes – my brain and Bella’s brain can rationally understand all of that.


As I sat across the table from my daughter, both of us with tears running down our cheeks, talking about the realities of this surgery, and questions spilling out of Bella’s mouth, such as,

“Will it hurt?”

“Will I walk funny?”

“Could I die?!?”

And if some of you want to tell me that

“God never gives you more than you can handle”


“Steadfast and true faith casts out all fear”

Well, I must admit that I just do not have that type of faith. At all. And I believe with all of my heart and soul that God is totally okay with that.

And He can handle it.

Right now, as I write this and my eldest daughter flits and floats from one end of the room to the other (we call it her “dreaming time”),  processing all that she has had to take in today, my heart is in a pile, and the tears just flow and regress, flow and regress, and I continue my ongoing heated, raw, honest conversation with God.

Someone asked me today how I was doing.

My response was “I am not okay. That is not okay. But I do believe God is somewhere in the midst of it.”

Nothing profound about that. No one is going to quote me and turn it into a bumper sticker or a refrigerator magnet.

But this is where I am at right now.

I am a woman of faith with a chronically ill child who is hurting and suffering, and therefore, I am as well.

And God is somewhere in the midst of it.

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