20%

Do you remember making plans as a child? Do you remember when surprises were something you looked forward to? Do you remember the day it all changed? I do. I remember the big fight me and Ryan had. I remember him being in my arms the next morning, drooling, talking incoherently, and staring at me like I was another stranger. I remember waiting in the hospital feeling so much at once that all I could do was sit, expressionless, as tears dried on my cheeks. I remember Christmas and decorations being an after thought at the close of that year. I remember dancing with Ryan at my brother's wedding wondering if he would be alive and walking the following week. I remember the dichotomy of him converting his temperature from Celsius to Fahrenheit in ICU yet being unable to read an analog clock anymore.

My desires and my reality mixed like oil in water.

People express their worries and concerns while I fondly remember and drift off to the days that those worries and concerns were mine too. Me and Ryan can carry on a very basic conversation with a complete stranger until they ask what we do for a living. How I'm doing is as much a mystery to me as it is to the person asking. Doctors tell me to remove stress from my life that I can't remove. Support groups say to find a "normal" when everyone around me is living my preferred definition of normal. Friends beckon me to get up and engage when all my soul wants is to sleep for a long, long time. My sons ask why I cry and I can hardly give an answer. People tell Ryan he "looks great" when his body is aching in pain from a seizure the night before.

But Jesus says to take heart because He has overcome it all.

He lived instantaneous highs and lows. He withdrew to the desert knowing Satan was there waiting. He kissed the cheek of the man that betrayed Him. He knew Lazarus would rise again but, still, He wept. He died and lived again for the hope of our eternity knowing we may not choose it. That takes big love, a strong will, and a deliberate choice.

We are approaching the five year mark since Ryan's seizure. In January, we hit the five year mark since Ryan's second, and probably last, craniotomy. He is about to outlive and surpass the other 80% of people with his tumor, his grade, and his cellular deformities. He is about to fall into the 20% of survivors. A new and much smaller category. My dreams may have shrunk significantly, but they have shrunk to this one thing that so many don't have. TIME. More time to live well, love big, and choose hope.

If this has taught me anything, it's that this is not about me. I'm not owed a thing and my desires in this world are passing away. But yet, God is breathing life into this lethal, looming thing in Ryan's head. He is giving time in spite of research and statistics. He is doing what He does best, and that is resurrection.

Copyright 2018 ->Renee Sunberg