The Waiting Game

So many times over the last couple of days I have thought back to a moment when I was about five or six. I came home with a flyer for a cheerleading clinic. I had visions of pom-poms and a cute outfit—visions Mom diffused immediately saying (and I remember this vividly), “No. You want to get out on the field and play the game, you may. But you will not make it your job to stand on the sidelines.” (Cheerleaders and former cheerleaders, please do not take offense—just roll with the point of this story). At the time, I was so disappointed, but what she said then has stuck with me throughout my life.

Our parents raised four kids who cannot stand the sidelines. Though they haven’t an athlete among us, we all want to get in the game. We all want to fix it ourselves. We all want to win. Which is what makes this week such a challenge. We can make dinner. We can help pay bills. We can do laundry. But not a one of us can do what we really want to do: fix this.

So we’re acclimating to a new normal. We sit still for a change. We watch movies and the clock. We count down the hours until the next doctor’s appointment and until Luke gets home.

Anyone who knows our family knows mealtimes are a big thing around here. Mom is an amazing cook, and most gatherings wind up in the kitchen. And that’s where we landed for a few hours tonight. Finally, Mom caught a break: Maggie and I made dinner and, no, Mom couldn’t stay away. She supervised – checked the chicken to make sure I wouldn’t wind up giving everyone food poisoning (so far, so good!). I forgot how good it feels to get in the kitchen – to be in control of something.

Mark and Maggie got home late last night, and it’s so good to have them here. I have to head back to St. Louis (very early) tomorrow morning and get back to work. Mark has a business meeting in Omaha, so he and Maggie will drive there tomorrow and back on Tuesday. We’re all jealous of Adam, who gets to hang here throughout. We dread backing out of the driveway, but look forward to Tuesday. Luke will be home, and Mom goes back to Barnes for an appointment on Wednesday. So we all don’t go very long without seeing each other.

Today was much like every other day; nothing monumental to report, and that’s just fine. Though, today is Adam’s fiancee’s birthday (Happy Birthday, Carrie!). She wasn’t here to celebrate, but she did it up right in New York, where she went wedding dress shopping. She sent pictures of the top contenders. Don’t worry, we sent Adam out of the room while Mom, Maggie, and I oooh-ed and ahhh-ed.

For Mom (and all of us), every day has its challenging moments, but most days are better than the one before. Every day is one day closer to the start of treatment.

The last two nights, I’ve managed to click on the TV to find Miracle on 34th Street at the exact same point, when Doris Walker says to her daughter, “Faith is believing even when common sense tells you not to.” As we count down these last few days before Christmas, we keep that in mind. We trust in the doctors that this waiting game is okay, that it will pay off in the treatment. We rely on one another and believe in Mom, that she’s strong enough to put up a fight. And, even when it’s difficult, we have faith that God is with us through all of this. After all, this week of all weeks, we don’t have to look far for reassurance that miracles do happen—and over those, we have no control.