10:30 at night

Brad here. What a day. Right now Leigh and Miles are both fighting tears as she nurses him and puts him down to sleep. It's been a long day at the hospital--and Chuck, John and Mommom are still there, probably finishing up visiting hours as I write this.

We heard the results of the EEG. Apparently she is not having seizures; that's good news. Also, her fever is coming down into the high 90's. All the tests they've run point to the fever being driven by her brain, not by any sort of infection. Any inability she has to control her body seems to be a result of the aneurism/stroke.

Just to remind everyone about the doctors and nurses role in this: the only thing they can do is monitor where she is in the midst of this. They told us in the beginning that there was nothing they could do to either predict or prevent the vaso spasms. All they can do is react to them when they happen and treat them as necessary.

Tonight was the first time I've been able to see Lynne since Sunday. For those of you who don't know, Sunday was a good day, the great day. It was the day where Lynne said she was feeling "Delightful" and seemed most like herself. Between then and now things have changed dramaticly. Now, the most communication you can get from her is "uhuh" or "uh-uh" for yes and no. This is so defeating for everyone, most of all Lynne. when you look at her, it's so apparent that there's more she wants to get out, and that the connection just isn't right and the words can't make it to her lips.

She does respond. Earlier today she really enjoyed pictures of those dang dogs. I shouldn't say that, I like the dogs. But they are the biggest pictures in the room now (sorry to all the kids and grandkids). And, as Leigh told her mom about a conversation with our friend Miriam about aneurism victims and the brain's ability to heal, she was very focused on what she was saying. She went on to tell her about Romans 8, and how the Spirit prays for us when we don't have the words, and how the Spirit was praying for Lynne now. Lynne's eyes were wide open and watching Leigh as she told her that. But there are no words. Nothing can make it out yet.

Yet.

Now, I recognize that I am a perpetual optimist. I also know that I know nothing about medicine. Setting all that aside, when Lynne began this journey more than a week ago, she had very little control of her left side, and spoke very little. We saw dramatic progress before the second stroke took her to where she is now. For the moment, she isn't talking, but her left hand works, better than it did a week ago. I have to believe that healing is taking place there beneath the surface, and that this isn't over for Lynne.

Tomorrow is a new day. New mercies. New restoration. This is where we have to live. Fighting our way past Day 12. Saturday. If you pray, please pray with us for this day, and that God would restore Lynne. Leigh keeps thinking of Romans 8:26. For me it's the blind man in Bethsaida. Jesus, after spitting on his eyes, asked him what he could see. He said, "people, but they look like trees." Things were blurry. Not all the way fixed. Then, he laid hands on him, and after that he could see clearly. Perfectly. 10 minutes earlier he was completely blind. My God is one that restores things that are broken, heals people who are sick, and comforts those who are hurting. And he doesn't do things halfway. He and I don't always see eye to eye on what things should look like. But, I have to trust that his ways are better than mine. And I know that he is with Lynne right now.

I know that this is the sort of stuff that generally pisses people off about Christians. Honestly, that makes sense to me, because it makes me angry when I hear it from others who quote Romans 8:28 without giving it any real thought. That doesn't mean it isn't true though. And it's where I have to live, because the alternative has nothing for me. I'm going to continue to hold hope that God is at work in Lynne's life, and in ours who wait with her here and around the country.