The Last Night

So the last two days have been hard.  Two of the hardest yet.  I think Zac being gone truly took some strength out of me, because all I have wanted to do is cry and sleep.  He is back now, and I already feel a sense of balance returning.  It still feels so unbelievable that Webb is gone, and it seems the further away I get from December 26, the worse it gets.  I have felt God so much in the past month, in a very real way.  I have always heard people talk about how the Lord speaks to them, and I always thought He spoke to me too, in the way that certain situations would pan out, or in the way I would become convinced of an outcome after I prayed about it and had an answer.  But this is the first time I have actually heard God's voice in my ear, and it is truly magical.  The night Webb had his surgery, which was 1 hour after we found out he had a fist-sized brain tumor, Zac and I lay in the chair together outside his room and clung to one another and I prayed, almost a constant chant, for God to give me strength and guidance.  As clear as a bell in my head, He said, "Sleep."  And I closed my eyes because He told me to.  Granted, it was only an hour of sleep, but it was the only thing I could do at the time.  And God knew what he outcome would be and had been preparing me for months, so really "sleep" was the only thing that possibly made sense at the time.  I wonder why it takes such a tragedy for us to hear the Lord sometimes.  Is he just more present when we are in despair, or do we not listen hard enough when things are going well?  I think it might be a little of both.  

One thing that has depressed me this week is how easy is seems to have 2 children.  I never knew what it was like to only have 2, and I literally crave the chaos and the six feet and three little voices I heard daily.  It seems so empty without Webb; it's amazing how much he filled the room.  I keep remembering the night before we went to the hospital, our last night the 5 of us were together:  we went to Roasters in Sandy Springs, and the boys were so good as they always are in restaurants, and a lady came up to Zac and me and told us how pleasant and well-behaved our children were and how we should be so proud of ourselves.  We looked at each other in shock because we were always so busy trying to keep them quiet and occupied, we never really noticed how that was appreciated by strangers.  We went home and Zac lay on the floor while all three climbed all over him - their favorite game.  We had no clue Webb was as sick as the next day revealed he was.  What a perfectly, ordinary night that now is etched in our brains for the rest of our lives as the "last night."  All things considered, it was a pretty good last night.

I often think that God is sort of carrying us along right now, and every once in a while, He puts us down to see if we can walk alone.  Sometimes we take a few steps, but most times it is just too much and He has to pick us back up again.  Tomorrow it will be one month since we took Webb to the emergency room.  The fact we are still alive after one month is more than I thought possible.  Please continue to pray for us.  We need the prayers so very, very much, maybe even more than before.  We are so lucky to have so many people who are praying for us, the people we know and love the most and those of you we have never even met.  I hope if our story teaches you anything, it is to live life like it's always your "last night."  I know that seems cliche, but truly the small things, the money problems, the little annoyances you have with your spouse and your children, they mean nothing.  If there is something you are doing or have done you want to stop or take back, now is the time.  Nothing matters more than family.  We are lucky that our last night with Webb was a good one where we were all together, doing something totally ordinary and spending time together.  While you pray for us, I will pray for all of you that you are able to see your family and what they mean to you in the wake of our tragedy.