"Hello, Mrs Vergori. I'm a pediatric oncologist. We need to talk."

In the early days after Aiden was diagnosed with an inoperable brain stem tumor, I became pain. All of my existence was pain- my thoughts, my feelings, the daily basic things I had to do to function. From the moment the doctor approached me and introduced himself, I was in survival mode. At times I couldn't identify a coherent thought, while sometimes being conscious of my every breath. It was the worst combination of feeling drugged and in slow motion, on a train that led me at insanely high speeds to places I didn't want to go. My teary, swollen eyes stung like a runny nose that had been wiped too often. (And yet I'm pretty sure I never cried in front of Aiden. Tim and I became good at distracting him from the other when we needed to look away and wipe our eyes.)

Raw. Like a piece of meet pummeled by a culinary tool. Like a wound gaping, flesh exposed and skin pulled back. Like a burn, infected. It hurt to breathe. Eating felt frivolous. In the night while Aiden slept, Tim and I clung to each other like we were being torn apart permanently, the fear and pain and grief raining down, drowning us. I felt as if I would die standing there, and I almost wished I would.

Those were dark days. If I was a spiritual giant maybe I'd report that I never doubted God, never considered turning away. But I must confessed that the demons visited me in the night: "If your God was good, this wouldn't be happening. When Aiden succumbs to this you will know the truth: that God is a liar. He promised one thing, yet delivered another." I listened for about 10 minutes. And then I sent them away, not with conviction of heart but with conviction of mind. I knew what I believed and even if I didn't feel it, I knew who the liars were.

I didn't walk through those days, I was carried. There are those who picked me up in faith and carried me through the Valley of Death to my spiritual pillars (monuments to where God met me). Half a dozen people, some I knew well and others I barely knew, where put in my path and anointed for the task of carrying me. I will be forever grateful, to God and to these obedient servants of His.

~ ~ ~

When Aiden was a baby I saw a video for David Crowder Band's song "O Praise Him" and God used it to challenge me. In the video a man listens to the song in his headphones and looks around self-consciously when he sings aloud. Finally, he gives in to his desire to praise God and lifts his hands and voice in the middle of a busy NYC street. God asked me "Will you do that?" I knew He didn't mean literally, necessarily, but certainly in other ways. Specifically, when I write. It's easy to write and talk and go with the flow of traffic on a dirty, gritty street; it's hard stop and praise there. I knew what God asked of me but I didn't see how it played out practically in my life.

After leaving Germany and moving to England, I stopped writing. My solitary lifestyle expanded and I had less time to be introspective and plan out blog posts. I figured also that whatever there was to write has already been written. Who am I to think I have something to add?!

In May, as I watched the David Crowder Band perform, God reminded me of His challenge like a lightening bolt to my spirit. As I worshiped and He brought all of this instantly to my mind, I cried out "OK!" I yielded, still not knowing what it meant.

Today I find myself on a filth-ridden street; the people are hollow-eyed and hopeless and full of fear. For a time I walked with them, but now I've turned and I'll stand in this street and lift my voice in praise to the One who walks with me. I pray that God gives me the strength to set myself on fire with a passion that brings Him fame, and that as the world watches me burn it will bring glory to His name.