Our Worst Fear

I had lunch with a friend today. We had been trying to get together for a while, but our schedules usually clash. So when she had an open lunch date, I jumped at the chance. And thank God I did.

About halfway through lunch, Dr. B called my cell phone to give me the news: It appears, based on the blood work, that Micah has the same liver disease that I was diagnosed with when he was a baby. I caught that he wants to refer Micah to a pediatric gastroenterologist from Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. He holds a clinic in our city once a month. Everything else is a blur.

As I hung up, I dissolved into tears, numb with disbelief and paralyzed by fear - of the unknown and the known. I stared at my friend through tear-filled eyes, her own grief-stricken look mirroring mine. But, even in the midst of that gut-wrenching revelation, God had already provided a measure of comfort, before I even knew I would need it.

My friend is a wise and steadfast Christian and just happens to be a psychologist. She listened as I lamented, reassured me of God's love and providence and prayed for me and my family in the parking lot as we left. What an unexpected blessing.

I called Steve on my way to pick up the kids from school. He sounded shocked and scared, and we hung up as my oldest daughter climbed into the van. My puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks clued her in to the reality we are all now faced with, and she sat in sad silence all the way home. She walked to the elementary school to pick up Maddie and Micah since I was in no shape to talk to anyone. Micah bounded through the door, as usual, dropped his backpack on the kitchen floor. It was an unusually warm afternoon, so he headed outside to play basketball with the neighbor boys, snack in hand.

While he shot hoops and rode his bike, I sent an email update to everyone I knew was praying and called my mom, my sister and a close friend. Their shock and sadness echoed in my ears; that's when I knew this isn't a dream.

Steve came home early from work, concern etched into his face. He hugged me tightly, then made several calls to break the news to his family. Micah came inside at dinnertime, tired but happy, and Steve and I took him aside. We somehow managed to hold it together long enough to tell him that Dr. B had called today to let us know there was "something not quite right" with his liver, and that he would be going to see a "special doctor" in a few weeks. He got a concerned look on his face and said, "Do I have liver disease like you?" "We hope not," we both answered, trying to assuage any fears he might have. That seemed to satisfy him, so we let it go.

About 6:00, a friend who had gotten the email brought over a prayer shawl that some ladies in her church had made. I hadn't heard of that, but apparently the women say a prayer with each loop, then pass it on to people who need prayer. As I tucked him into bed, I wrapped him in the bright blue shawl and laid down beside him. "How are you feeling about everything?" I asked. "Scared," he said. "Why are you scared?" I asked, trying to choke back the tears. "Because I don't know if something bad is going to happen to me. I'm hoping for good, but it might be bad." He paused. "Mom," he continued, "everybody wants to see Jesus, but nobody wants to die." I kissed his forehead and promised him I would pray with him every single time he gets scared. He snuggled into the shawl and closed his eyes.