It's the afternoon of the 4th of July. Previous plans put us on a lake with relatives watching fireworks. CVICU isn't the lake.
First and foremost, current prayer requests:
1. Decreased swelling in her precious little noggin. Today is the day we're supposed to turn the corner on that. I'm ready to turn that corner.
2. Wakefulness that's not upset. I don't need an hour. But even a few minutes of quiet or small babble would be awesome. If she's awake, she's lit up. It's hard on her (on multiple levels) to have all that activity to the point of wearing out.
3. A clear diagnosis. We are still lacking one, though we've been seen by everybody but the guy who was running the cash register at the gift shop where I bought the Queen and I some drinks.
4. No more injuries. And no permanent damage.
The Queen sums it up this way: God, please bring her back. Amen to that. The picture I posted recently of she and I walking while we saw grandparents in Texarkana - that's the image I associate with "bring her back." I want that again. And that's the spiritual, involuntary vomit that comes up out of my soul when I pray.
I've seen the church and the Church be awesome.
Last night, at some ungodly hour, God was still awake and so were three brothers. It sounds like a bar joke, but a white guy with floppy hair, a large African-American brother, and a shorter guy from the Indian subcontinent walked into a hospital room. Their intention, denied by a medical procedure, was to pray over the Minion. One of the guys (all were employees of TCH) had been a client of the Queen's photography ministry, and they had heard via social media, and came to pray. The lead guy said, "We can treat in this hospital, but we can't heal. Only Jesus does that." So off they went, on their lunch break, to hospital chapel to pray for our little girl. May their tribe increase.
Some of our local church folks called a prayer meeting at 2pm today. Pics started rolling in of dozens of people gathered to pray for our little girl. Are you kidding me? Who does that but family? May their tribe increase.
Our students at Youth Camp this week have a delayed bus. I got a pic of them stopping to pray at 2pm. Delayed buses can lead to griping. In our students, it led to prayer. May their tribe increase.
One of the Queen's coworkers came by last night when everything was hitting the fan. She stayed calm, rubbed the Queen's shoulders, and was so stinking encouraging it was fuel. May her tribe increase.
So many of you have posted on FB and Twitter about her, sharing statuses and pics and so forth. Thanks for spreading the word so heaven is barraged. May your tribe increase.
To our friends who created the cool little Jesus Loves Maggie graphic, thank you. May your tribe increase.
To my northern friends who are praying from DisneyLand, thank you. To our other friends who aren't there but are praying still. May your tribe increase.
To my friend who showed up with liquid goodness from Sonic, thank you. May your tribe increase.
To my Metroplex friend who offered to tell inappropriate and irreverent jokes to take my mind off things, thank you. I'm not so sure if the world could handle an increase in your tribe. But I wish it would increase anyway.
Our dearest mentees-turned-friends came up when it was all breaking loose too. They just stood and prayed and didn't mind that all they got was a fist bump and a goodbye. May their tribe increase.
And my former-workout-partner (former only because vacations and emergencies seem to be interrupting us staving off midlife), not only volunteered but actually did come and sit from 10p-3a so I could sleep a little. I told the nurse he was my brother - different moms but the same dad. That's true in some ways, maybe the most important ways. For breakfast this morning, I ate his wife's chicken and dumplings she had put in the fridge of the family area last night - they were here when everything hit the fan too. May their tribe increase.
And to the many more who stopped at 2pm to pray, thank you. You are Aaron and Hur. May your tribe increase.