Well, tomorrow we head to the hospital at 3:00 for IVIG therapy – this will require an IV site and a transfusion over several hours.  Jodi and I will also have some last-minute meetings with different hospital coordinators regarding the transplant.  We’ll bring Jacob back here tomorrow evening to sleep with Justice for the last time in a long time.  Then on Friday it’s game time:  surgery to insert the central line.  After a weekend of observation, he begins chemotherapy on Monday.

We’ve tried to be particularly awake these last few days.  Yesterday was an especially good one.  As we walked through a nearby park enjoying the sunset, looking for deer, and throwing around the “Hover Missile” toy Aunt Rebecca brought along, I found myself humming an old 10,000 Maniacs tune:

These are the days you'll remember…
And as you feel it, you'll know it's true

that you are blessed and lucky.

It's true that you are touched by something

that will grow and bloom in you.

These are the days you might
fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might
feel a shaft of light make its way across your face.
And when you do you'll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
It's true, you'll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know they're speaking to you, to you.

One of the huge blessings in all of this is learning how to take one day at a time and squeeze all the life we can out of it.  Our family doesn’t take much for granted and so we don’t miss much.  It’s been a good way to live. 

We’re anxious but we’re ready.  To keep the fear at bay, I’ve been reading a quote from St. Francis de Sales in the morning before I start the day:

Do not look forward to what might happen tomorrow;

the same everlasting Father, who cares for you today,

will take care of you tomorrow and every day.

Either he will shield you from suffering

or he will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace, then, and put aside

all anxious thoughts and imaginings.

And that's a good way to end today too.