This isn't a post about a medical breakthrough, but a personal one. Because of Mark's treatments last year he couldn't participate in the Primary Program at church, which I was pretty okay with for the most part. It wasn't on the long list of things I was fretting about. They were singing "I am a Child of God" as one of the songs, so I figured I would give him the opportunity to join them up on the stand for that one song, which was his favorite song. At this point I started looking forward to seeing him up there as little darling Sunbeam singing his favorite song the way he sings it at home. The day came, he wasn't feeling well, but we were there. He was prepared and I walked him up to the stand to join the rest of the kids, but he lost it. Cried and caved. I took him out to the hallway were he kept crying. It was just another way that he was getting robbed of his childhood. Then I lost it. Breaking down isn't something that I do very often, but for some reason that small thing was what broke me on that day. (By the way, it turns out that crying is a great way to get your kid to stop crying.) We pulled it together and went on with our day in our "new normal".
Last Sunday was again our annual program. I'm sitting up on the stand with the kids as a new Primary President. I turned around to steal a peek at my little boy sitting in the back row with his little classmates and WONDERFUL teachers. I gave him a wink and a smile. He attempted to work his facial muscles into an actual wink, but finally used his finger to force his eyelid. We smiled and stared for a moment. He went on with the program without a problem. He did great. He was happy. I was happy.