The Land.

{There was t-ball.}


{There was bouncing.}


{Lots of bouncing.}


{There was a visit from the Easter Bunny.}


{There was a sunglasses thief.}


{There was silly string.}


{There was dirt.}


{There was swinging.}


{Lots of swinging.}


{There was lots of ridin' around.}


{There was first-time fishing.}


{And there was a first-catch fish.}


{There were first-fish kisses. It's a tradition...?}


{There was a very large amount of juice boxes consumed.}


{There was a really cute bunny.}


{There was a great fire for hot dogs.}


{There was a canoe ride-another first.}


{There was relaxing.}


{Lots of relaxing.}


{There was night bouncing.}


{There was smores by the fire.}


{There was a silly boy.}


{There was lots of laughing.}


{There was some late night tailgate guitar playing.}


{There was family.}

One year.

This time a year ago, it was a normal Friday.

Playing at home, visiting Ryan at work, running errands, meeting my mom at Target to browse.

Then home for dinner, baths, more playing and bed.

Normal, right?

Except all I remember is giving Jackson a bath and then laying him down for his after-bath and seeing this...thing.

A lump. A protrusion.

Something that did not belong in my child's body.

Thankfully a friend was already on her way over, so I was able to show someone immediately (literally--minutes after finding it) to see if I was over-reacting.

I'm so glad that she didn't say "I wouldn't worry about it".

Because inside I was already worrying, wondering, praying.

I just knew in that moment that it was something. I had this very visceral reaction to seeing it...I felt nauseous every time I looked at it. Dramatic, yes. But true.

I needed to see and hear someone else's concern. It made me feel justified...that I wasn't freaking out over nothing.

Not that I have done that, ever. (Ha.)

Ryan saw it later that night and agreed we needed to see a doctor asap.

So to Saturday clinic we went early the next morning.

I'm so thankful that God made that lump so obvious to me.

I'm so thankful I followed my instincts instead of telling myself that it was nothing.

I'm so thankful that we had a very sweet doctor that morning that was very proactive and got the ball rolling.

I'm so thankful that a year later I can still hold my child, hear him laugh and listen to him breathe.

It could have all been so very different and I'm very aware of just how blessed we are.

In some ways, this date is more meaningful to me than his diagnosis date. April 30 was the day it all changed, the day that I stopped worrying about the everyday things and started worrying about what was growing in my baby.

The signs that cancer lived here are still evident.

In his fresh, fuzzy duckling head that a year ago was full of thick, unruly hair.

In his scarred body that a year ago was untouched by surgeon's blades.

In his mind that a year ago never worried about having to go back to the hospital.

In my stomach that a year ago didn't drop if he said "Mommy my leg hurts".

No, it's not over.

But.

We still live and breathe. And we are so happy, so thankful.

Today, the boys will bounce in a bouncy house to their heart's content and hunt eggs at a family gathering.

This event was planned today not to commemorate this day that will always be significant to our little family of four, but just as a coincidence.

It's fitting though.

A year ago, I couldn't have imagined all my sweet boy would have to endure and how long the road would be.

And today...I get to watch him just be a kid.

AMAZING.

It's not over.

Since Jackson has had a couple of sets of clear scans, I get asked alot "When is the party?" or "When can we celebrate?".

Let me be clear: we feel VERY happy and blessed and thankful and elated that Jackson has had not only one set, but two sets of clear scans.

However, we are not yet at the party stage.

Why?

Well, because it's not over.

When will it be over?

Never.

When he is old enough to miss soccer games or Algebra class for his scans instead of his pre-school gymnastics class, it won't be over.

When he is old enough to drive himself to his scan appointments, it won't be over.

When he has to come home from college for scans, it won't be over.

When his wife gets the call before me about the results, it won't be over.

Get the picture?

Just because cancer is gone NOW, doesn't mean it always will be.

That is the very harsh reality of the disease.

So.

While I would LOVE to plan a party, we just aren't there yet. Maybe as time goes by and we (hopefully, prayerfully) get more clear scans we will feel more in a party mood. But at this point, we are still very aware that things could take a drastic turn in July, or October or January.

We have to be constantly vigilant about Jackson's health. Some of the chemo he received will not have a negative effect on his body for 10 or 15 years. To quote our doctor "Right now we worry about the disease and it coming back. In a few years we starting worrying about what we have done to keep it away."

Jack may not have a tumor anymore, but he has a scar from his groin to his knee.

He may not have a port anymore, but he has three scars from insertion and removal, along with permanent needle marks from numerous port accesses.

We may not go to the hospital every week for chemo anymore, but we go every ninety days for multiple scans...and if they see a single bad cell, our lives are upside down again.

For us, and so many other families fighting childhood cancer, it's just never over. I know some people can't understand that, they can't understand why we "can't move on".

And that's ok. Because you know what?

They may not have experienced what we have, or hurt as deeply as we have...so I can guarantee that they haven't loved and lived as fully as we have either.

We remain happy and thankful for every minute of every day. Even the days that aren't full of unicorns and sunshine. Those are good days too. Because they aren't promised to us.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.
Romans 8:18

Happy day.