I am a person of Faith. I believe in God with my whole heart and soul. I don’t believe He gave this illness to our family because He is making some kind of point or trying to teach us some lesson. (Although, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to analyzing every detail of every day, praying I find the lesson.) I believe that Scott’s body betrayed him. I believe that God saw this coming, and placed us, here, in this town, for a reason.
On my way to work, I want to believe the message at a local mechanic, is intended for me: DON’T BELIEVE in MIRACLES RELY ON THEM. As I am driving down the road, trying to focus on my destination, I want to believe that God is talking to me and handing me signs. I want the fact that “our song” comes on the radio station that doesn’t play oldies from the mid-nineties, to be a sign that it’s going to be OK. I want to believe that God gave me this job to keep our family on track. I want to believe that being at work is the right thing to do, because while everyone’s days are numbered, we have MANY DAYS TOGETHER.
I want to believe in the power of prayer and miracles. I want all of this so bad, there aren’t even words out there to express HOW BAD I WANT TO KNOW IT WILL BE OK.
Tonight, the love of my life looked at me and said, “Don’t lose hope. We need it. Stay positive; it’s all we can do.” I want it to be that simple. I want to believe that everything is actually going to be OK. I want to believe in the future, while reveling in this moment.
Words cannot express the love and support we are feeling from our family and friends, near and far. Thank you is not enough, but it’s all I have.