Wednesday, July 24, 2013


Today I was transported back to the beginning of this journey. It was the day I went to Old Navy, only days into Gideon's diagnosis, and I couldn't help but to feel in awe of the regularity of the world around me as my own personal world felt as though shrapnel and shards were all that was left. People stopped at stop lights. People bought clothes. People even went through the drive-thru on their lunch hour. This time the tears that surfaced were the ones of awe as I realized what time and healing could butterfly out of the most disgusting of worms. I was at Barnes & Noble, searching for the best read of my life and I had to run to the restroom to sob. It instantaneously erupted inside of me somewhere in the M section of Literature & Fiction. Just a few stores down housed the Old Navy that felt like an abyss of emptiness and hollow wishes three and a half years ago. I honestly had no idea if Gideon would live or die, and my soul was on that same teeter-totter of fragility. Now, this Tuesday, July 23, Gideon received his very LAST hospital IV chemo dosage, and the beauty of that reality crashed down on me as book titles blurred into spirals of unfocused, soft, and silent fireworks through my tears.

LAST. And this last was jubilant. Brody and I stared as we witnessed the very last of the poisonous life-saver being pumped into Gideon's veins. Beautifully, his bag of chemo hung next to the clinic fish, all colorful and festive, as if he knew all along those fish-brothers of his would beat the sharks and he was just biding his time in the corner, waiting to be our banner of triumph at the end.

Gideon still has a month of oral chemo, ONE MONTH, but this week also marks the LAST WEEK OF STERIODS! He always responds so much better during this week of pain, discomfort, and emotional upheaval when he is in Grand Marais. Even though the boys and I just came back two days ago, we are turning around and heading north once again (this time with Alex, his family, Ann, and her girls) to soak in the healing air that resides north of the bridge: our paradise.

After chemo, I asked Gideon how he wanted to celebrate this last dosage of IV chemo. He responded, “I want to go see TURBO with you, Brody and Alex, and then I want us to go to Grand Marais.” So, we did see the movie, and we are going to our mecca of all that is gorgeous on this planet. Please pray for Gideon so that this trip truly is a healing one of peace and not one riddled with pain of any kind. It would be a gift from God if we can coast to the end of his chemo, August 18!