An entirely different situation...

This diagnosis of Lacy's Huntington's Disease has turned me into a fountain of tears. I have been crying at the drop of a hat, crying at work, crying driving home, and crying on Thursday morning in my doctor's office. He listened and asked questions, offering sympathy and comfort. The words he said to me have been rolling around in my mind ever since.

"Everyone goes through times of grief and loss, but when something threatens the well-being of our children, that situation is entirely different."

When I have had quiet moments I have been thinking about what he said. Parents whose children are in peril are fierce indeed. My husband and I have sought out the help of anyone who could give it, left work at a moment's notice to attend to Lacy in a crisis, lost sleep, mourned together, refused to turn away from the task at hand.

I have watched my parents hold each other and sob when my sister was diagnosed with cancer. Their terror was palpable, but their resolve to do anything to help her and her husband find the treatment she needed was overwhelming.

I met a lady in the hospital waiting room when both our children were in the intensive care unit, fighting for their lives. We clung to each other for support, weeping together, but when visiting hours were called, we leaned over our children, talking to them engaging them, willing them to recover.

When something threatens the well-being our your child, you would walk through fire, fight any number of adversaries, lose limbs, eyes - even your life - if it would save your child.

When no amount of fighting, bargaining, pleading will save your child, you rage against the adversary that cannot be overcome by any amount of effort.

I imagine a parent, desperate to save his child, willing to do anything to deliver that child from destruction, and I realized that God has been there, and has put a desperate plan in motion, one that saved His children, but with a heavy price. I am so thankful for that. When it is all said and done, Huntington's will not have the last word.

I know He will not leave us as we walk through this valley of the shadow. Somehow we will have the strength to endure. We will be walking with a Parent who lost a Child too.