Please Pray

And if our hope for Christ is only for this life, we are more to be pitied than anyone in the world (1 Corinthians 15:19)

I'm not sure I'm in a place to actually be writing this post. I don't really feel like writing. But I'm going to write anyway. I write for Libby. I write for myself. For our family. I write because I believe in our Father's goodness. I believe He is in control of every detail of our lives. He's working every single thing for good. He loves us more than we can begin to comprehend. And somehow this is all part of His perfect plan. I don't like this part of His plan. But I don't see the entire story like He does. I'm stuck in a chapter. A crappy chapter, by my standards. A chapter that is breaking my heart. Luckily, I know how the story ends. I know it's beautiful. Glorious. I'm just struggling a lot with the in-between.

Things have been crazy since Libby's last treatment. That's why it's been a little radio silent over here. One thing is for sure-we do have a compelling story. We were in the hospital. Made it home for Christmas. And then ended up back in the hospital. She has a virus. Chemo has done a number on her blood counts. And this morning, we got even more news. Libby had another, more significant, stroke. Totally unrelated to leukemia and chemotherapy. She has something called Moyamoya Disease (I know, it sounds like I'm just making stuff up). It's a cerebrovascular disorder. It's rare. But it's more common in children with Down Syndrome. It's pretty scary stuff. It's progressive. Without treatment, it's terrifying. Thankfully, there is treatment. Brain surgery. If they determine Libby is a candidate. We pray she is. However, the brain surgery-equally terrifying. To me, anyway. But I'm not a neurosurgeon. So that's where we are. We're still in the hospital. The doctors are orchestrating next steps. We've got more tests. We've got rehab for Libby. And we'll go from there.  I wanted to get this out to you, our faithful prayer warriors. Because we need every single one of your prayers.

Our nurse cried with me, today. She told me how amazing Libby is. As Libby giggled in the bed watching her TV show. She told me she's always thought children with Down Syndrome are angels. I can't tell you how many times we've heard this. I don't know if it's true. But, for me, the evidence is mounting. Libby impacts my faith. Daily. She rewires my thinking. She teaches me about His love. But I digress. This nurse, she shared chapters of her life with me. The messy ones. The painful ones. And she shared how she can sometimes see, often in hindsight, God's miraculous piecing together of her story. She shared how He's strengthened her faith. He's proved Himself true. And I told her I'm really just sick of all of it. Especially for Libby.  I just want her to be happy. That's it. I just want her to be happy. And she looked at me and said, But you already know our bodies are just our shells. Underneath SHE IS. She really really is. You know this. And I knew instantly it was Him. Reminding me, the truth so often unfelt by me, true joy is found only in Him.

Please pray for us. We love y'all.