Not perfect. But normal.
Laundry. Dinner. School and chores.
Three weeks ago something changed.
Three weeks ago I got a text from my sister in law panicked over her baby daughter. Something was wrong with Darbee's eye. The doctor was sending her to an eye doctor and dropped the words: possible tumor.
And with the thought--the impossible idea, we all held on to our little ones a little bit tighter.
No. It couldn't be. Happy, healthy, beautiful little Darbee bug couldn't be sick.
Calls were made. Strings were pulled. And the same week Darbee and her mommy went to Primary Children's.
This time the terrible words were a confirmation. Tumor. Cancer.
Truth.
And again we held on--physically, mentally, spiritually... from miles and miles away, we held to one another a little tighter.
We waited for surgery, for news... Surgery came. News came. Our girl's sight had already been taken by the alien intruder. The eye would have to go.
But more news. The cancer hadn't spread.
And though the news was good--again we held on--to each other, to prayer, to peace, to hope.
I haven't seen my baby niece yet. But I hold on to the image of her beautiful smiling face, to the sound of her laughter over the phone, to the prayers I say at night and constantly in my heart.
And I know she'll be okay. She'll make her mark on this world. She has something to do. More than she's already done.
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