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!


  1. I truly believe a higher power has brought Gideon to the end of this journey only to begin another. May he have peace while "Up North", as we known the healing powers it has on ones soul. Bless all of you!

  2. Thank you for sharing this exciting news! Such a long journey... I'm glad you shared it with us. And thank you for proving to us that it's possible to find beauty and joy in the most difficult of times. It sure helps me understand how petty my own gripes can be sometimes!

    I remember the week Gideon was diagnosed. I filled in for teacher Gloria at church that Sunday before. We were working on something that involved a letter B and Gideon so impressed me with his abundant love for Brody when he shouted "B is for Brody!" with bright shining eyes and the biggest smile. We didn't know it yet, but he couldn't have been feeling his best that day. He sure didn't let it show! His light was shining huge, as always. To me that Sunday feels like ages ago. I can't imagine how that time span feels to you. Quick and endless all at once, I suppose!

    Have a good trip. I pray that it all gets so much easier from here!

  3. So I am 'Googling' for my daughter in laws blog " Gideon our Mighty warrior' and I came across YOURS ;') Our Gideon who is our miracle boy will be 5 tomorrow . He was born 2 months pre mature and weighed in at 4 lbs.. He is now a normal healthy ( almost0 5 year old.. and is having a Super Hero b-day party this Sat. Blessings on you and Your Gideon!!!