One foot in front of the other picMeg sleeps with her hair fallen in her face. I run my hand along her forehead and tuck the loose strand behind her ear. My fingers run across on top of the smooth incision line and I stop. It bothers me to touch it.
 
Thoughts and images flash through my mind. How many times did I hold her as a baby with her head laying against the crook of my arm as I spoke to her? How many times did I cup her little head and feel soft baby curls. How many times did we comb and put bows and ponytails in her hair? How many nights did I check on her, running my hand along her temple pushing hair away from her face, just as I do now? All the time, never knowing something was wrong.
 
If there was any indication of what was growing on her right side behind her deep blue eyes, I missed it.
 
I've tried so often to avoid these thoughts and feelings. Refusing to allow my memory to recollect was far better than the pain and heartache awaiting me if I did.


I found it easy not to dwell with so much going on. We moved forward doing what we needed to do. It's what love does. It rises to the occasion and always comes through.

God could make all of this so very different. I've asked him to, but it's his decision. Our good friends from Arizona who's daughter has a rare type of cancer, remind me all we need to do is put one foot in front of the other. On the good days, the bad days, the days we don't understand, and the days we see clearly.

How fortunate are we to be able to do so? We follow a king. He clears the path and lights the way.

Seeing his footprints, I know this is nothing new. He's already done this and He's overcame. Those same footsteps are ours to follow. Through the wind, the rain, and the fiercest storms, they can't be washed away.

There's a peace to be found not having to make our own way. We can use our energy to keep moving and not worrying about everything else going on. When the tiredness and fatigue hit hard and there's only one thing to do. Keep going.

There is no room for a spirit of fear when I know who oversees. Not of memories, of regrets, of feeling pain, or anything. I know I'm changing because memories flood and I don't stop them. They don't bring guilt or pain. They leave me grateful for how normal Meg is. I take my hand and brush Meg's hair back, right over the line running before her ear. Scars can heal on many levels.

We will miss Texas and the wonderful people we've grown so very fond of, but are thankful to be heading home for Christmas. We're grateful the report came back today with no seizure activity to be found. The right side of Meg's brain however, is firing slower again due to pressure. What it means is we keep going, one foot in front of the other, letting Jesus lead.