Showing posts from November, 2019


It’s 2:15 in the morning and my son is thrashing in his bed. He’s hurting. He has a fever. It hurts to lay still; it hurts to move. He had surgery about a week ago and his recovery was going well, until it wasn’t. The ER doctors sent us home around 10:30PM. We see the surgeon again tomorrow AM. Tonight, we wait. Tonight, he thrashes. Tonight, he cries. Tonight, I cry too. I cry, but I’m not sad. I’m angry. I’m agitated. I’m frustrated. I’m feeling sorry for my son. And, in my worst moments, I’m feeling sorry for myself ( seriously, Scott, get over yourself ). I try to sooth and reassure him, but sometimes I break. I whisper calming things to him, but sometimes my voice gets louder and shakier. I pray . I lament to God, how can you let him suffer like this? Help him. Please. My son groans; I groan. I wonder, does God groan? His crying wakes up his brother who starts crying too. Then, his crying wakes up his mother who starts crying too. Now, we’re all crying a