Almost a year ago, I received the sweetest package in the mail. A mother and daughter duo sent me a card explaining that they follow me on social media. "We feel like we know you."
Honestly, I grew a bit teary-eyed reading their words because it was really touching, but also, just seeing the little girl's handwriting, you could tell she was young and had thought hard about what to write. "I'm sorry you're sick," she'd shared. "We pray for you and your family. And I love your cat, Borah." Then she relayed how she'd made me something, and it had taken a long time.
So, completely filled with curiosity, I pulled something from the box and realized she'd crocheted a huge blanket!
Months passed and I used that blanket every time I needed to feel hope. I brought it to the cancer center to keep my legs warm during treatments. I even used it when we drove in the car during winter.
"Why do you use that blanket so much?" Trey asked one day.
"Someone prayed for our family while crocheting it," I said. "They filled it with prayers and shipped it across the country."
But when summer came, everything grew warm and we placed the blanket into the back of the closet.
"Mom," Trey said, months later, "I think I should get a counselor. I'm having a tough time, worrying too much about the future and what might happen." A close friend's brother recently died, and I think his death left a big mark on everyone. He was only in his 20s and had so much life to live. I'll never understand why people die young. "It's sad watching Beau grieve over his brother," Trey said, taking a deep breath. "And it's hard knowing someday..." He met my eyes and then looked away. "Someone close to me... will pass away."
Although doctors keep saying cancer will probably kill me, I've recently entertained the hope that I might beat this. After all, I've lived two years longer than oncologists expected. So, I told Trey about my recent thoughts because hope can be the anchor that gets us through the storm.
"If you beat this, Mom, it would be amazing." But the light didn't meet his eyes, and late that night, Trey still hadn't gone to sleep.
"Trey?" I whispered after finding him digging around in the closet. "It's the middle of the night. You need to go to sleep, and Mike and I need to get some rest too." I'm still recovering from the pain pump surgery, and Mike works really early.
"Sorry. I'll be quick."
The next day, I set up counseling for Trey, but they were booked out a couple of weeks. Despite that, every morning Trey seemed better—other than hiding something from me in his room.
"What was on your bed?" I asked.
"Oh... that was nothin'." I went to leave, but Trey stopped me. "Mom, do you think prayer works?" he finally asked. "I mean, do you really believe in it?"
"I hope it does," I said. "Sometimes I want to think that G-d hears us, and other times I hope He doesn't interfere. That means everything would happen randomly, and none of the bad things are personal."
He raised a brow.
"Maybe G-d winds a gigantic clock but doesn't mess with it or choose when it will stop running. He just sets it in motion. Maybe that's what life is." I paused. "Do you believe in prayer?"
"Well, lately I actually think I do." He sighed. "I'm feeling a lot better than I was."
After he left for school, I decided to see what he'd shoved to the side of his bed... The fabric felt soft against my fingers, and it came as a big surprise when I pulled the pink and blue crocheted blanket from the side of his bed. I shook my head with wonder because the only thing Trey knew about the blanket is that someone from across the country filled it with prayer. Did the little girl who made it have any idea how much her actions would help us? Her prayers have become our anchor in the storm...
So, completely filled with curiosity, I pulled something from the box and realized she'd crocheted a huge blanket!
Months passed and I used that blanket every time I needed to feel hope. I brought it to the cancer center to keep my legs warm during treatments. I even used it when we drove in the car during winter.
"Why do you use that blanket so much?" Trey asked one day.
"Someone prayed for our family while crocheting it," I said. "They filled it with prayers and shipped it across the country."
But when summer came, everything grew warm and we placed the blanket into the back of the closet.
"Mom," Trey said, months later, "I think I should get a counselor. I'm having a tough time, worrying too much about the future and what might happen." A close friend's brother recently died, and I think his death left a big mark on everyone. He was only in his 20s and had so much life to live. I'll never understand why people die young. "It's sad watching Beau grieve over his brother," Trey said, taking a deep breath. "And it's hard knowing someday..." He met my eyes and then looked away. "Someone close to me... will pass away."
Although doctors keep saying cancer will probably kill me, I've recently entertained the hope that I might beat this. After all, I've lived two years longer than oncologists expected. So, I told Trey about my recent thoughts because hope can be the anchor that gets us through the storm.
"If you beat this, Mom, it would be amazing." But the light didn't meet his eyes, and late that night, Trey still hadn't gone to sleep.
"Trey?" I whispered after finding him digging around in the closet. "It's the middle of the night. You need to go to sleep, and Mike and I need to get some rest too." I'm still recovering from the pain pump surgery, and Mike works really early.
"Sorry. I'll be quick."
The next day, I set up counseling for Trey, but they were booked out a couple of weeks. Despite that, every morning Trey seemed better—other than hiding something from me in his room.
"What was on your bed?" I asked.
"Oh... that was nothin'." I went to leave, but Trey stopped me. "Mom, do you think prayer works?" he finally asked. "I mean, do you really believe in it?"
"I hope it does," I said. "Sometimes I want to think that G-d hears us, and other times I hope He doesn't interfere. That means everything would happen randomly, and none of the bad things are personal."
He raised a brow.
"Maybe G-d winds a gigantic clock but doesn't mess with it or choose when it will stop running. He just sets it in motion. Maybe that's what life is." I paused. "Do you believe in prayer?"
"Well, lately I actually think I do." He sighed. "I'm feeling a lot better than I was."
After he left for school, I decided to see what he'd shoved to the side of his bed... The fabric felt soft against my fingers, and it came as a big surprise when I pulled the pink and blue crocheted blanket from the side of his bed. I shook my head with wonder because the only thing Trey knew about the blanket is that someone from across the country filled it with prayer. Did the little girl who made it have any idea how much her actions would help us? Her prayers have become our anchor in the storm...
I'm still really glad we have counseling set up for Trey, but I'm also grateful for the kindness of others. Whether G-d interferes in our lives or not, life can be exceedingly hard, but today I find myself so humbled by a little girl and her mother—strangers whose prayers show the type of love that can buoy us through nearly anything.
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