Encountering Hope

   
My last blog post, “Difficult Realities” I was grappling with the harsh realities of this world alongside our unshakable hope in eternity. It’s still something I grapple with everyday. What are the thing that I can change and the things that I can’t? What are the things we can do to make an impact in this world and what things will only be fully accomplished in eternity?

   However, the point of this post is not to answer these questions (that to me often seem unanswerable). I wanted to share glimpses of hope that I am seeing in the midst of the darkness of disease and death…

    I have seen precious Jayson a couple of times since my last update. When I saw him the first time after he arrived home, there seemed to be no sign of the jubilant little boy that I knew. He starred blankly. He hardly moved. He never smiled. It was heartbreaking to see him so drained of life.
   However, the next time that I saw him, he and his mom had walked over to the fence that separates his house from our property. First of all, it was a vast improvement that he was up walking around. His mom told me that he still is walking very slowly and it causes him pain, but he is walking on his own again. The best part of seeing Jayson this day wasn’t the fact that he was up walking, but to see life beginning to return to his face. He was being extra shy hiding his face from us (as you can see pictured left). But it was clear that there was a smile behind those hands as well. It was a glimpse of hope behind the veil of sickness. Hope gleamed in that beautiful smile!!
   A couple of days later I saw Jayson sitting out in his yard again. This time he was sitting with his sister and one of his neighbors playing in the dirt. I plopped down in the dirt alongside of them and just began to talk and play (Jayson and me pictured right). Then the best thing happened… Jayson laughed. It wasn’t a half laugh or a little giggle. It was full-fledged laughter bubbling out of his tiny, smiling face. It was the best sound I’ve ever heard. It was completely him. It wasn’t the him numbed down by pain medication or quieted by hurt, but just fully, truly him. And it was beautiful!! (To hear his laughter, watch the video below.)
   I know there is nothing more I can do other than continue to pray for healing and sit in the dirt making him laugh. Sometimes that feels like so little when you are faced with a child, who without miraculous intervention, doesn’t stand much chance of surviving. But when he laughs, hope springs forth and life is unveiled.