Unexpected Changes

Not only do we have a family of visitors and support for Jonah, but our support network is board.  The UIC Flames Swim & Dive team were in Florida for winter break training and wanted to show their support from warmer weather.  They are just an example of how supported Jonah is in his journey.

There are lots of ways in which you would expect this journey we're on with Jonah to change our family.  How we vacation, foods we eat, how we spend our time, the value of community, the value of present over perfect, how we relate to and understand God, the depth of our faith, our ability to be compassionate and to extend grace and on and on.  All these things are true, and will forever represent the battle scars - the beautiful and the hard- from this time.  There is however one change in our hearts and understanding that I would have never expected, never categorized in the "things that change when your child has cancer" category.  The unexpected change, is our heart for the parent-less.  Occasionally at Lurie, and more often at RIC, we meet kids - sweet, young, delightful kids - who don't have parents in their lives.  It blows our minds and breaks our hearts.

We are blessed beyond measure to be able to have a loving educated adult with Jonah all the time.  It is not without sacrifice on the part of our whole family, but we couldn't imagine doing anything differently.  This constant companionship also allows us to better advocate for Jonah and catch errors in his care.  This constant companionship statistically will improve Jonah's chances at recovery, especially from a rehab perspective.  

Then one day "Baby N" showed up at RIC all alone, a cute 2 year old little boy with a surgical scar on his head.  A few weeks later, "Baby A" showed up, also alone, a sweet little 7 week old boy.  We then realized that "D", a 16 year old boy recovering from a gunshot wound, was also alone.  These kids have no visitors, no one to advocate for their care or catch errors.  They have no one to eat meals with, to cheer on their accomplishments, comfort their sadness, wipe their tears, play games with.  "Baby N" and "Baby A" have no one to snuggle with, no one to make silly faces at them, no one to marvel at how quickly they're growing up.  All they have is the staff.  And now they have us.  Hospital policy regulates how we can interact, but when we're at RIC, "Baby N" joins us for meals or he and Julia will watch movies together or play in the kiddie kitchen.  We coo at "Baby A" and we try and "see" "D" instead of write him off.

Somehow everyone knows "about" foster care and the great need, but at least for us, it seemed far away, in another world.  Now we see that it's in our backyard, it's not far away.  There are kids everywhere, looking for someone to love them - to not define them by the circumstances of their birth, someone to give them a chance in life.  Obviously we're not in a position to do much more than love and minister to the kids put immediately in our path, but who knows what the future holds.  The other thing we can do, is help raise awareness that these kids exist, right here, close by - waiting for someone to "see" them.