Whatever your normal is

We’ve had an eventful couple days in the Schutz hospital room. Davis is starting to “normalize” a bit, which has been so very encouraging for us. After not eating or drinking for a number of days, he’s starting to do both again, and is getting more energy as a result. He’s got a feeding tube in which is giving him some baseline nutrition, and he’s eating a few things and drinking a bit of milk and juice.

We’ve also had him up in a chair that sits in his bed, to change his position and get him moving a bit more, and today started getting him to sit on the floor a bit too. Our hearts are lifted when we see him smile at playing with a toy, or chasing bubbles with his arms and popping them with his little fingers. Tonight he saw the Christmas picture of the kids beside his bed, and said all their names.

It’s weird to think that we are celebrating these kinds of things, because any normal 2-year old is full of all of these things every day, but after the 3 weeks we’ve had, these are wonderful things to see. They’re a sign to us that the treatment has already had some positive effect, and allows to get some glimpses at more “normality” for our little guy.

So good stuff is happening on that front.

Tomorrow, though, will be a stark reminder of the abnormality of our lives right now: leaving Davis and Suzanne in Vancouver, I’ll be driving our older kids back to Penticton. We’ve had them with us since just before Christmas, and now we need to take them back so that we can keep life as normal as possible for them.

I’ll be spending Sat-Sun in Penticton as well, preaching at a funeral on Saturday, then leading our church family on Sunday morning as “normal”. And then I’ll come back to Vancouver on Sunday afternoon.

It’s going to be so good to see our church family again, to be able to hug so many and thank them in person for all their support so far. Because I’ve been gone for a few weeks, though, and because of our situation, it’s going to be an odd mix of normal and abnormal.

If you’re a part of our church family, I very much look forward to being with you again on Sunday. I’ll share a bit about where things are at, but mostly it’ll be as normal as possible, where I get the great privilege of bringing you God’s Word of hope for you in Jesus.

As you pray this weekend, please lift up Suzanne especially. Her parents are here to help, which we appreciate so much; she’ll be spending a couple nights in a row at the hospital while I’m gone. I don’t know if I’ve shared much about that routine, but we try to switch off as much as possible, because whoever sleeps at the hospital basically gets no sleep. Between hourly check-ins by the nurses, heart rate/oxygen monitors going off as his numbers fluctuates, and the general uncomfortableness (is that a word?) of the “mattress” here, it’s essentially a series of cat-naps all night. Doing that once is draining, but manageable when you know a decent sleep is coming the next night. Doing it twice in a row makes for a very difficult stretch of days and nights.

She also has to say goodbye to 3 of her kids for a long while, which all by itself is hard enough; it’s something a mom should never have to do. So please pray for an abundance of physical, emotional, and spiritual strength for her this weekend.

Please pray also for God’s provision and protection as the rest of us travel tomorrow. Mountain passes in the winter are usually passable, but never fun.

Grace and peace to you all tonight. I leave you with the words of the text I'll be preaching from for the funeral on Saturday:

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
 and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
 and he will make straight your paths.
Proverbs 3:5-6