This is one of the canvases I made to auction off at Relay for Life this year, and it's the phrase that stuck in my head all day yesterday as we watched together to see how little Stellan was going to do after he was born.
The thing is, if Stellan's family would have taken the news from the doctors 23 weeks into the pregnancy and put a period at the end of that sentence, he might not be here today. They could have heard, "Your son's death is imminent." Instead, they put a comma at the end of that statement and heard, "Your son's death is imminent, so now what do we try?" And they tried, and they hoped. They didn't believe foolishly that all would turn out as they wanted and be easy just because they had faith. They believed that whatever was in God's will would be ok, but they wouldn't stop trying until He made His will known.
It's all about the comma.
I've had to remind myself of that from time to time. Ok, not from time to time. All the time. In reality, the odds of something great happening to improve my health are very slim. The odds are I'll keep getting worse. There have been new medications that can improve my quality of life, but my body has rejected them all. I've gotten to the point where I don't just react to wool and flowers anymore, I react to the air. To someone's lotion. To additives. To picc lines. To everything.
There are new drugs on the horizon that hold promise... but the moment I get excited about them a voice creeps in, "Those won't work for you, remember? Your body will reject them." And then I have to balance accepting my reality, with a comma.
Odds are that new medications won't help me, but there's always hope. Stellan's odds were against him, but they held onto hope. My friend Kelly is always changing the "ifs" in our conversations to "when." She's always reminding me that until something is done, it contains hope.
Stellan has me thinking about that today...
So I wanted to remind all of you to keep the commas in your lives, too.