Should We Believe In Miracles?

I don’t know Superman Sam but I know that in August he had a bone marrow transplant and that he has a disease called acute myeloid leukemia.

Most of what I know about him comes from what I have read on his blog or what his mother has posted on Facebook. Sam and I have never met, for that matter I haven’t ever met his mom but I have made sure to keep tabs on him.

I can’t imagine what it is like to be so young and to have had to face the challenges he has and I certainly don’t understand what it must be like for his parents.

One line in this post reached out from the screen and wrapped its fingers around my throat.

Believe us when we say that we have left no stone unturned. We have tried them all. We fight now for comfort and time.

A Time Of Miracles

I read those words and my heart aches for Sam and his family. I read those words and think about how hard I am working on trying to find the right words to share with my son at his Bar Mitzvah.

In less than a month my family is going to come together for a giant celebration and so when I think of time I think of it in very different terms than Sam and company.

Part of me feels guilty about that. Part of me feels guilty because I have found the transition from Texas to California to be really hard. Some of it has been great but some of it has been more than a little trying and I have felt like running away.

And then I think about Sam’s family and I want to slap myself because they are doing all they can to buy time and here I am irritated about trivial stuff in comparison.

We are smack dab in the middle of Chanukah and the chaos of the holiday season. It is a time of miracles or so I keep hearing and reading and I ask myself if I believe them.

I ask myself should I believe in them and should I teach my children to as well.

36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave

It is close to midnight here in Los Angeles. I have checked on my sleeping children several times. Wandered over to the side of their beds, stood there watching their chests rise and fall just as I did when they were babies.

Standing over them, I stop, look and listen to make sure that all is well. I got a double dose of the protective gene and maybe that is part of why I feel even worse for Sam’s parents.

Because it is much easier to protect them against the obvious things. It is simplistic but I can fight the monster in the closet and the bad guy with the gun.

But some invisible terminal illness, now that is really scary.

And then I remind myself it is really not about me.

So I keep reading and I come across the link for the 36 Rabbis Shave for the Brave and I stop to read about these rabbis who are trying to fight childhood cancer.

I can’t do as much as I want to help Sam and his family but I can help the rabbis raise money and awareness.

Should We Believe In Miracles?

Miracles make me face the contradictions of my inner beliefs. They force the heart and head to do battle on yet another front.

When I talk to my children about life I always counsel them to be prepared to work hard and to be smart about it. Work smarter, not harder is a big part of our conversations but so is understanding that sometimes there are no shortcuts.

We make our own luck.

And yet there is a big part of me that believes in the things we can’t see, touch and feel. Some have accused me of turning off my brain to believe and to accept and that is ok.

When my son asks me what to believe I ask him what he thinks. It is not because I don’t have an answer but because it is a personal question and our answers often change over time.

Medicine isn’t all science and sometimes the unexpected comes about. It is not my place to tell anyone else whether they should believe or not.

For now I am going to keep rooting for Superman Sam and will continue to send my best wishes to the family and hope they realize there are many out here in cyberspace who support them.