Update on Emily

I haven't posted about Emily's health for a while for a couple of reasons:

1.) I discovered that by being public about her trials and tribulations and decisions and occasional improvements, there were people who prayed for us and encouraged us, but unfortunately there were also people who felt like they owned a piece of her story and therefore had the right to ask too many questions and tell us what to do. In good times I might be able to handle this and brush it off, but when you have lots of raw exposed nerve endings, it works better to retreat.

2.) I was afraid/superstitious that if I said she's doing better, she would immediately start doing worse.

But now I think I maybe have the courage to say it: She. . .is. . . doing. . . better.

(What's the spiritual/Christian equivalent of knocking on wood?)

When I was in Colorado in May, I felt like I was up against the Red Sea. Emily was doing horribly, and I didn't know what on earth to do.

I have since discovered a number of things about the Red Seas in the original story and in our lives. Such as: it feels like God has abandoned you; it feels like there are no options; it feels like purely an accident of fate that landed you here; and you second-guess every decision that led you to this point.

The truth is the Red Sea wasn't an accident for the Israelites. God had it all planned out. It isn't an accident for us, either. But it sure feels like it.

God didn't rip the sea open and escort me through, but he did nudge me toward this decision, and then that one, and then another one. And by the end of the week I had moved Emz into a different house, (close to Knepps, where she also started eating suppers), she had quit working at the thrift store, and she was taking a nutritional powder called Reliv.

I hesitate to admit that last one, because I always made fun of people who were into Shaklee and Herbalife and such, but the fact was she needed nutrition and she was willing to take this.

Well. Within a few days of her move she wasn't feeling as horrible any more. Then she had days of feeling actually pretty good. And more such days. And more. She started going on more walks. She did a few fun things with people. A month passed. A MONTH!!! And more weeks.

Right at the two-month mark she had a couple of bad days again, and of course I knew it had all been too good to be true, etc. etc, but what do you know, she got better again.

Jenny told me this story, which tells me how far Emily's come: While Emily was still at home, Jenny saw her trying to lift a textbook off the table, and she was having a hard time, so Jenny picked it up for her. It was a bit heavy but certainly not THAT heavy. And then during this last visit, the girls were eating supper and Emily reached across the table and lifted the iced tea pitcher with ONE HAND and merrily hauled it back across. Jenny was amazed and so am I.

I cannot tell you how amazing it is to have this burden lifted of feeling like I am trying to keep Emily alive. Every day. Mostly over the phone.

I do not know what the future holds. I am always braced for calamity and regression and bad news. But these last two months have tasted very very sweet.

Quote of the Day:
So we are driving along in the van, our family plus Jenny's cousin/almost-twin Alli, and up ahead is a trailer with two horses.
Jenny: Look at those horses!
Alli: Cooool!!!
[further squealed exclamations]
Jenny: They look like paint horses!
Alli: Paint horses???! They're real!