"If the toddler gets sick, we all get sick."
That is what we have been saying as a bit of a mantra throughout Ben's chemo. It has been a reminder of why it is vital to wash hands and practice good hygiene. We say it to our teens. We say it to each other. We say it to strangers. We say it when we wipe the pew down with sanitizing wipes on Sunday.
Then, while Ben and I were at the clinic for lab work yesterday, I got the call I have been dreading. The toddler is sick. 102 fever. Slimy. Coughing. Sick.
That's ok. We had prepared for this. Our "toddler get's sick plan" was to gate off our front room, designate it as the "Benja-tarium," and keep the toddler out so he would not be able to "love tackle" his brother.
It sounded like a good plan. We ran it by the doctor, and she agreed. It was a good plan. Everyone thought we had the thing solved — one problem. Our toddler lives life like he is training for a Spartan race. To him the gate was just another obstacle to overcome. About thirty seconds after we set it up, he went over the wall the first time. We then tried another configuration. It lasted two minutes.
OK, the reality is the little guy has a cold. It is not the end of the world. It is just a virus. Viruses are not the end of the world for chemo kids, but they are a pain. Any fever over 100.4 means an automatic trip to the ER and a forty-eight-hour stay on the cancer floor. We'd love to avoid that.
With Plan A out the window, we had to come up with a Plan B, and fast. So, I did what any forty-three-year-old would do. I called my mom. I did not make it very far into my tale of wo before my mother interrupted, "Just bring Ben to my house." So simple. And yet, the perfect solution.
The thing is, this time last year, we could not have done it. Mom and Dad lived forty minutes away to the south (an hour+ with traffic.) But, about a year ago, a house went up for sale one home away from my sister and only ten minutes from us. Mom and Dad pounced on it.
It was not long after the house went into escrow that Dad went into the hospital.
He never got to live here. Dad passed away in early January, less than a year ago. But Dad made sure mom would be close to us. I know he was taking care of her. But, I am also sure Dad was taking care of us. He could not have known how things were going to turn out and would have never imagined Ben would get sick. He was just doing what he believed the Lord was telling him to do. When Dad and mom decided to move here, I am sure that God was moving in it too.
That's Kingdom Living, as Dad would say. It's moving in faith, knowing that the Lord is working in ways that you could never imagine.
Through Ben's cancer fight, having mom here has been an incredible gift. So, here we are, in the safe harbor of Gramma's house, waiting out the storm.
God is faithful,
Chris