For the better part of the last week, I have been in the sunshine state, praying for a miracle; and God has answered those prayers. My 80-year-old grandfather discovered a Meningioma tumor in his brain in November. At the time it was considered benign, as are most meningiomas, and the diagnosis was to observe the tumor's growth over the next year and see how it was progressing. Unfortunately, my grandfather started showing symptoms of the tumor shortly thereafter, having seizures that were taking a toll on his fragile body. After more MRIs in mid-March, the tumor appeared to have grown in size by about 20 percent. Surgery was now a necessary reality. So how did I take this news? That my grandfather, whom I very rarely get to see because he lives in Florida half the year and two hours away the rest of it, was going to be having life-saving surgery? I packed my bags and booked the last flight out on Friday evening after work. It's not really as heroic as I make it sound.
Musings of a Christ-following mom of boys, devoted wife, and dreamer, figuring out how to be a good parent and steward of the arrows in my quiver while navigating the world of indie publishing.