Forward

Jordan's eyes are open.  He is staring straight forward.  He doesn't blink.  Since Friday Jordan hasn't closed his eyes.  Yesterday he began to move them again, to slowly follow faces.  His right arm moves a little on its own, and we know Jordan is fighting to come back from wherever he has been.  I like to believe he was in Heaven, resting--waiting for his body to get strong enough once again.

We stare into his eyes and find an emptiness brought on by a very sick body and narcotics to ease the pain.  His breath is restful.  There is no expression on his face.

Then suddenly he returns as though his soul literally entered his body once again and we see him.  His body doesn't move. His face doesn't change.  But we know Jordan is there once again and aware of us.  He speaks volumes in those seconds to us as we do to him and our hope is strengthened.

With such an uphill climb, Jordan's body is holding on by sheer miracle.  We believe in healing and so we wait, and watch...cautiously.  We know Jordan is still a very sick child.  His veins are all plugged with lines to give him fluid, remove fluid, provide medications, check vital signs, help him breath. He is surrounded still by machines.  Many of his vital organs are not functioning properly or at all.  Yet little by little he shows signs of improving--and only those who believe in hope and faith and love and miracles know why.

Underneath it all, the Adenovirus continues its death march like a vindictive war captain intent on leaving nothing standing in its trail.  And silently we wait to see what Aaron's cells can do against that fight, to see if through it all there is still a way for us to win.  We hope for answers but for now hope is the answer; and we march on.