the best laid plans

All week, Charlie and I look forward to the weekend.

We look forward to spending time as a family and visiting random places around San Diego. Typically, I am anxious to get out of the house and do something, anything, because I'm goal-oriented that way.

Today, our plan was to go to the Zoo with a picnic lunch.


On a typical day, I would be anxious to get out and do just that.


But today it's overcast. And my heart is sad for my friend, Deana, who I wrote about with such joy, a few short weeks ago. This morning, when I came home from my run I received an e-mail that indicated she was back in the hospital. The cancer has returned and has been causing her such terrible pain that she is hooked up to a morphine IV.

This kind of stuff isn't supposed to happen to someone who has a two-year-old and a four-year-old. Instead of her mind being consumed with how to successfully transition her baby to a big boy bed, her mind is consumed with how doctors are going to treat her aggressive and rare form of cancer.

Only God knows what the future holds for Deana.

Or any of us, for that matter.

So today, all of our grand plans have been scrapped.

We aren't going anyplace spectacular, but we are doing spectacular things.

We are watching chubby legs and listening to the pitter-patter of little feet as our baby runs through the house, with his arms flailing wildly.


We are doubling over in laughter from tickling and four-year-old knock-knock jokes.

We're sitting around on the couch and reading every single Dr. Seuss book that we own.

We're listening to good music.

We're baking a gingerbread house with some leftover supplies from Christmas.

We're hugging and kissing and telling each other that we are so blessed and lucky to be here, together. Right now. Today.

Today, we are thinking about and praying for our friend, Deana.

If you can spare a good thought or prayer, I hope you will, too.

(Edited to Add: Less than five minutes after this picture was taken...

... and moments before we were to begin the process of getting ready for church and dinner out, William was knocked off his step stool, smacked his face on our granite counter tops and ricocheted off the table on his way to the ground. When I picked him up and wiped away the blood, I could see a 1/2 inch gash over his left eye that I'm absolutely certain requires stitches. Charlie is on his way to the emergency room while I'm home wondering just how badly I need [or want] to make his sisters feel. Suddenly, our peaceful Saturday has shifted. So it goes with the best laid plans.)