The call came through on Facetime in the living room during an otherwise unremarkable evening.
Dinner had been served and cleaned up, showers taken and the last few moments of electronic amusement and entertainment before bed were being counted down.
I overhear the sweet, familiar voice of a classmate.
"Did you hear?"
No, he says.
The story unfolds. Their former classmate. Their friend.
He wasn't feeling well, and went to the doctor. It was his throat. Something in his throat. It didn't get better. They went to the hospital. They ran tests. The tests came back.
"It's cancer, so pray for [CHILD'S NAME]. I have to go."
My heart skips a beat.
My baby looks at me and in that split second before the anguished tears I see his childhood leave us.
I hug him, I tell him we will pray for his friend's complete recovery and support the family however we can, and that we don't have all the information, and that medical miracles happen every day and those are the things we will focus upon.
My husband and I are up all night in emotional anguish. In shock. We are now waiting for our marching orders for meals, and any other support other than our prayers.
Life changes in a split second.
Every second of health, and the health of our loved ones on this earth is such a gift. We humans tend to forget this so often and take shelter in our pity parties and sometimes the pain is very real.
But if we are alive and well, we really do have it all.
We cannot know the ways of G-d. Ours really is not to reason why.
Pray for this little guy. Pray for G-d to guide the hands and minds of all his healers.
Thank G-d for every moment.