I don't want to focus on chemo or sickness or hospitals, so this is what I'm focusing on these days: swimming. Since swimming is not my forte - in fact, I often say that I never learned how to properly swim - it seems to parallel the journey we're on since I've never learned how to parent a child with leukemia.
If you've ever seen a 5-year old swim in their first swim meet, you've probably seen more splashing than forward movement. This is likely what I look like when I swim in open water; I'm way more worried about not sinking than propelling my body forward.
So while it's obvious that my body knows nothing about swimming, I do understand how it is supposed to work. I know that my body will float if I calm myself. I know that stretching my body out will allow my arms to pull my body through the water. I know that thrashing and kicking actually slows me down and exhausts me at the same time. I know that if I just use my arms and legs in the way a swim coach would guide me to, I will get to my destination safely and efficiently.
So I'm going to try to continue swimming. I feel like so far Lehr and I have been in the shallow end of the pool with God right next to us, holding us up if we dipped below the surface. But we are approaching the time when we will be swimming in deeper waters, without floaties. God will still be with us, guiding us with His words, but we will have to rely more on what He has taught us because so much else will be clouding our confidence. We will have to resist flailing our arms, we will have to resist fighting against the reality of the 'water', we will have to calm ourselves and allow God to lead us through.