Kate

I wanted to simply share our about our brief visit with the McRae's last night. It's a strange tightrope I must admit. The feeling I have is a strange cross between fierce protectiveness and a desperation to communicate. I want you to know all about it because I want you to pray and to tell others to pray for Kate, and for all those battling brain cancer. But then I want to protect her from the eyes of the world. I want her to be safe like I want Sydney to be safe. Kate McRae is simply a precious six year old girl, with two great parents. She and her parents are like so many of our friends. Chatting with them on the sidewalk outside their temporary home was as easy as it is with the Mann's or Kuykendall's. Couples our age, working in the church, having kids, doing life. My relief at this easy feeling was peppered with the sadness that we aren't meeting under better circumstances because I know that if we did, we'd be friends.

We met outside because Kate is still immune compromised from the stem cell transplant and Sydney- being in preschool- is probably a bit of a petri dish as far as germs go. But the two of them had a great little visit. It's so funny how kids hunt out other kids. It's like some kind of "play" instinct. We'd kept Syd in her carseat as we got the goodies and dinner out the car and she was going bonkers because she wanted to meet "Little Kate" as she calls her. Kate wanted to get a look at Syd and before long they were digging through her gift basket (an incredible blessing from the Home Improvement Sunday School class at Grace Pres and the amazing Amy French.)

Barbies, dress up clothes, movies, games and a big 'ol pink cowgirl hat. Kate wanted to try it on so Syd gave it over to Holly. As Kate reached for her own knit hat to remove it, she paused and looked at her mom. "Is she going to laugh at me?" she asked. The world stopped in that moment and the reality of this disease hit us like a freight train. My heart broke. "No, she's not going to laugh at you" we both said, and then Holly proceeded to gently explain to Sydney that Kate doesn't have any hair because of her medicine. And that when it grows back it will be blonde, like Sydney's but lighter. Kate's question to her mother was simple, practical. Obviously she is speaking from experience.

As she took off her hat I watched my sweet 3 yr old's face go from giggles to shock then right back to giggles. She didn't miss a beat. She didn't stare, she didn't laugh, she acted like it was the most normal thing in the world to not have hair. They went right back to playing, balancing on one foot, trapsing up and down the sidewalk in their hats.

Two observations: No child, no person should have to go through this. It is very hard to reconcile a just, loving God in the face of a child's suffering. Yet somehow, the mercy and the suffering of God himself, is so real and palpable here. Our only comfort I guess is that God himself is nearer than we know. And he doesn't waste our suffering.

My little child is being changed just by her proximity to Kate and her understanding- though limited- of her illness. She is becoming compassionate. The compassion of one child for another is beautiful. It is stunningly beautiful. God is making something beautiful out of this pain.

Pray like your life depended on it. For Kate.