Usually when I sit down at this keyboard the words just flow and my fingers fly. I rarely have little to say. In our house now, the words start, and then we trip up on emotion and tears and giant lumps in our throat. We are scared and anxious and profoundly, profoundly sad. My beautiful niece was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia this week, and she will undergo a procedure today to determine the extent of the cancer and then she immediately begins an aggressive treatment plan. She is strong and tough and funny and these are all good things, but she is still ten and it's the hardest news we've ever heard and any one of the many, many family members that love her so would take this burden on for her in a heartbeat. We would appreciate your thoughts and prayers for her through today and this weekend and for the long road ahead.
Last night I curled around my own fourth grader while she slept and I cried into her hair. We can only do so much, only so much, and that's the rub of the double edged sword that is parenthood. It is such fierce love and fierce fear that battle within our minds and our hearts. I have been on this seesaw for almost a decade now, the push and pull of let-go-let-go-hold-tight-hold-tight. It's exhausting, that balance, and I collapse into bed, arms tight around my daughter, and dream of my sister-in-law doing the same. We are all firmly on the hold-tight side, and this seesaw is crowded with all those who love her and hold her dear.