“Thy Friends do stand by thee…”

Savannah has been begging us to let her go back to school. It has been so hard to have to keep telling her that her little body just isn’t quite ready yet to go back. She believed she could do it, she would get up, get ready and try but then, the effort of getting dressed and eating breakfast would drain her she was just too tired. This has been very discouraging for her. She has longed to see her friends for weeks now.

Well, today was the day we tried again. Picture retake day. She missed school picture day when she was stuck at home for a month back in September for covid quarantine and she was determined to not miss it again.

We planned ahead. Made sure our pain medication schedule was timed right. Pulled out the school clothes she hasn’t worn in 3 weeks. Picked out a hair bow and a pair of shoes and laid them all out at the end of the bed. It almost felt like Christmas morning when she walked into the bedroom at 7 am and announced that she was ready to get dressed, even though we wouldn’t be leaving until 9:30 am. Yes, she quickly ran out of energy and yes, the efforts of getting dressed and putting her shoes caused her to lose her breath, but nothing… N.O.T.H.I.N.G was going to stop her today.

Hair curled, shoes tied and mask on, we loaded the wheelchair into the car and made our way to the school. She was giddy with excitement and couldn’t stop talking the entire drive to the school. Walking through the front doors of the school with her, I was accompanied by many emotions. I felt so overwhelmed with gratitude that despite a wheelchair and a little girl whose body is still beat up and healing, I had my little girl with me still. Despite how long the days and nights have been. Despite the fears, the unknown and the tears, my little girl is going to be ok.

I felt enveloped with love as we walked down the hallways and greeted friends who had joined us in prayer and fasting for our little lady. I was truly humbled as I watched their excitement and witnessed their tears of joy to see her sweet little face back inside these school walls. But nothing could have prepared me for the moment yet to come.

We pushed the door open to her art class and oh, there are no words for the sound that filled my ears, my heart …..my soul. As soon as it registered to these 23 other little first graders that Savannah was back, there were schrills, screams of excitement, and precious laughter. They all made their way toward her, encircling her with the pure joy of friendship and love. “I am so glad they took out Mr. Bad boy.” “Can you walk?” “Are you feeling tired?” “I love you so much, Savannah.” “I colored you so many pictures, did you get them?” “Are you back to stay?” “Is it ok if I hug you?”

I just stood back and took it all in. I knew just how much she had been waiting for this moment. But I didn’t realize how much this moment would mean to me. I immediately thought of a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants that took place during one of the hardest moments of Joseph Smith’s life, the trial of Liberty Jail when he pleads with his Father in Heaven for peace and understanding as to why he must endure such anguish. In the darkest of moments, God sends him peace and reminds him that this is but a small moment. His friends stand by him, support him, love him with warm hearts and friendly hands. Surely, he was not called to endure this trial alone.

As I watched her little friends surround her, touch her, hug her, smile and laugh with her I thought of that gentle promise, “Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hands.” I felt my Savior there. I could just feel Him in the presence of these innocent hearts as they celebrated the return of their friend with warm hearts and friendly hands. Surely, He was there in that priceless, precious moment!

It was those brief 10 minutes of pure joy that would give this little girl of ours the strength for the rest of her day. We made our way back down the halls, waved to friends and walked back out the front doors not sure when she would get to walk back through them on her own. As we walked closer to the car, I could see something on the drivers side window. Thinking it was an advertisement or flyer for something, I was caught off guard and tears filled my eyes as I removed it and found a picture of my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Yes, surely, without any doubt, He was with us today. Peace filled my heart. It was as if I could hear Him saying, “I am here. I am with her.” We loaded her wheelchair and climbed into the car. After our perfect morning, we made our way to the Children’s Hospital.

We made the decision to move Savannah’s post surgery appointment up by a few days because of some new, unexplained post surgical pain. Savannah has been so tough and has tried to convince us that her pain is better, when it is obvious that it is not. About a week ago she started complaining of a new pain in her mid and lower back that didn’t sound quite the same as the pain of recovering nerves in her abdomen. Finally, we decided it was time to just have it checked out.

Her surgeon is a wonderful man. A father of young children himself and very devoted to his young patients. He was relieved to see that her incisions have healed up nicely and look great. He even gave her permission to go down a small, slow hill on a sled if she so desired. But, then we got to her back and it baffled him as it has baffled her father and I. The pain doesn’t seem to relate to the resection site. There are not nerves in that location that should have been affected. So, what is causing this pain that keeps our little girl up everynight in tears? What is this pain that is keeping me from wrapping my arms around my daughter in the hug I am dying to give her? She cannot be touched. The slightest touch to her lower back brings her to tears. There is no explanation.

So, what do we do? A chest x-ray was done to check the lungs and diaphragm again. Maybe, something got stuck under the diaphragm when it dropped back down to it’s normal location as she healed post surgery. But, the chest x-ray looks good. We are thankful for that. Perhaps, a nerve was compressed or damaged when they had to increase the size of her large incision in order to get this large mass out. He described how it was required that they cut the incision larger, pull it open wider, place some claps on it and pull the ribs apart to make room for this large mass to come out in one piece. (Once again, a humble reminder of just how invasive this surgery was to our Vannah’s little body.) It’s possible some nerves got hurt but we won’t know without waiting and giving it time. Or, it’s possible that we have something else going on inside that can only be found with more imaging and testing.

I had a list. I had so many questions to ask, all the questions that I didn’t think to ask when we were in the middle of the storm a couple weeks ago. Help me understand this tumor some more. Break down for me what it looked like and how much you had to leave behind. How dangerous is it if she gets covid right now? Tell us what recovery looks like. We had been so naive to think that this recovery would be 2 to 3 weeks and we could get back to our normal chaos.

Well, he answered all my questions. This would be a 6 to 12 week recovery. Two weeks after surgery, this man could still recall every detail of our daughter on the operating table. Every detail of her surgery. Every detail of the large mass he pulled from her body. Every detail of how he so carefully worked around her other vital organs, gently moved things out of place and tried to so carefully put her back together again after so much trauma. Savannah giggled as he described her “Mr. Bad Boy” as a large rubber bouncy ball that he pulled out and carefully placed in a plastic bag. I was grateful for the interruption of laughter in between the details.

Yes, it was absolutely possible that a nerve got hurt. Yes, this could be something simple and just requires some time to heal. Yes, this could be something permanent but we just don’t know. Yes, covid is a risk to her little body. Yes, it is possible covid could put her in the ICU. I thought I would be angry, but I understood that this was hard for him too. Surely, he didn’t want to greet us today to find that she had pain and discomfort that couldn’t be explained after a surgery he performed. I felt for him. I was overwhelmingly grateful for him as I watched him gently listen to her heart and examine her back so tenderly. The heartbreaking stories he must be a witness to. How grateful I am that Savannah is one of the stories for him that has a good ending. I’m sure he has felt a sadness and pain that can’t be described as he has had his fair share of the hard, the bad and the ugly stories.

I thought back to the picture of Christ left on my car window just a few short hours prior to this conversation. Surely, our Savior is with him. Guiding his hand during surgery. Embracing him when things go wrong. Celebrating with him when he sits down with parents in the waiting room with good news that all has gone well in the operating room. Surely, he is sustained and carried when he walks through his door at the end of long days to a waiting family at home. How grateful I am that he was the one chosen to care for our baby girl. How grateful I am for his humble, kindness. His willingness to admit that something could have gone wrong. How grateful I am for his commitment to continue down the road on this journey with our Vannah until we can figure this out. How grateful I am for this man! How could our Savior not be with him?

We left with no answers. A new medication to help control the pain. A promise that a discussion would happen with her Oncologist and we would hear from them soon. The possibility of another CT or MRI. Caution about covid, keep her as protected as possible. But, none of that was too heavy to carry. Why? Why did I feel so strong in that moment with no answers and a daughter that still hurt? Why? Because someone, some random person who had no idea who I was or who my car belonged to, took the time to place a picture of Christ on my window. A small and simple picture that meant everything to me today. A picture that reminded me of our miracle. A picture that reminded me that I am not alone. A picture that reminded me that God is in this battle with us. A picture that reassured me that Savannah is being held through her pain. A picture that promised me that the hands of her Doctors were still being held and guided in her care. It was a simple, small picture that brought me an indescribable amount of peace and love today.

Surely, He is with us still.

Savannah still has a path of healing to walk down. There are still answers to be found. We still wait for the follow up imaging to see how much of “Mr. Bad Boy” remains in her little body. We pray that we will be led to the answers that will resolve her unexplained pain. But, while we wait and while we still move forward on this path of healing…. we have decided to move forward in faith. Brannick and I have promised each other that we will live in gratitude for the miracle of still having our baby girl. Grateful for the diagnosis of a malignant tumor completely encompassed by benign cells protecting her from the need of Chemo and Radiation. Oh, how different this journey ahead could have been. Yes, she still hurts. Yes, she gets tired. Yes, she sits in a wheelchair. No, she has not returned to school yet. BUT…. she is a beautiful miracle. God has been in this battle with her from the moment she was born. Her path has been led by the hands of loving heavenly parents. I have no doubt that Jesus walks with her daily. And she knows that. She believes. She has faith.

Thank you, God for our miracle. Thank you for the Doctors who spend time on the phone, behind desks discussing her care and making decisions that will bring us answers and guidance. Thank you for friends that love our little girl and the friends that love us and greet us with warm hearts and friendly hands. Thank you, God, for the angel that put a simple picture on my window that brought peace to my soul and reminded me that we are not alone in this. Thank you, God, for your Son!