Yesterday, Drew had his 6 month checkup with the heart and lung doctors. Drew has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, a life-threatening form of MD that attacks muscles all over the body, including vital muscles like the heart and muscles that help us breathe. When we took Drew to see the doctors about 7 months ago, his numbers went down, so naturally we were nervous and afraid. To our surprise, the doctor came in the room, smiled, and asked me what I am giving Drew because his heart strength went up significantly. It was a blessing and a relief.
Not too long after receiving the good news, I kept wanting to ask about Christian. Why did he have to suffer so much? Why was his heart so much weaker? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? WEREN’T YOU PAYING ATTENTION? Most of the time, as I have been reluctant to accept, we will never fully understand or even know exactly what happened until we see our loved ones again in heaven. I believe we will experience so much peace and joy in God’s presence that it will not matter. Even when things go well and life gives me roses, I still want to hold onto the thorns. What will happen if I stop being so sad? Will I forget his voice, his smile or his strong spirit?
Part of healing is being thankful for each day and living each day as I know Christian would want me to live. I have had my pity parties and it’s normal when we are grieving, but after a while they actually do more harm than good. Complaining and being negative keep us from being all God created us to be and all Christian would want me to be. There were so many things Christian was not able to do and he accepted it most of the time. So many things that are mundane or even grievous to the rest of us were all Christian ever wanted. He wanted to work, run track and do the same classwork as the rest of the students. He wrote letters until he could not tolerate sitting up at his computer anymore. He tried reading the bible from front to back until his pain started and he had to spend most of the day tilted back in his chair. He did everything he could until his last breath that chilly October morning, which feels like it was yesterday and like it was ages ago at the same time.
I will focus on the roses in life and not hold onto the thorns. I will honor my son’s life by thanking God for the new day when my alarm goes off. I will be thankful that I can work and that I have my health. I will be thankful for clouds as well as sunshine, Mondays as well as Fridays, unpleasant people and sweet people, sour and sweet. I will live.
The road less traveled 
This last thought, your focus on roses and not thorns, is beautiful. And positive.