Collin and his team of therapists (Jenna, me, & Amy) December 2011
He is eating freshly baked chocolate chip cookies when I enter the kitchen this past Wednesday. Crumbs and chocolate smudge his lips that grin when I sit down next to him. I love to see him eat. I can recall so many hours in therapy and so many unsuccessful attempted bites of donuts and pizzas. Now, a little over one year, he craves chocolate chip cookies that his mother lovingly bakes into small bite size delciousness. We all share a handful of cookies, Collin, his mother, and me.
I tell them about all the new born babies in my life and Collin tells me stories he has been told by his mom about when he was a newborn. He was an easy baby, his mom confirms, who liked to rest on her shoulder so that he could get a good view of everything around him. I think its funny how sometimes a person is exactly who they are, even as a baby. Collin is still easy. He laughs easily, he smiles easily, and he plays easily (which is probably why we could become friends so easily).
After an hour of chatting and cookies, they tell me they have a surprise for me. They have been eagerly awaiting our game date with a new game to play. While his mom disappears to get the game, Collin extends his arms and his fingers wiggle as he tells me (dramatically): "This game has your name written all over it. We thought of you as soon as we played it." The game is Clue: the Simpsons version and he giggles when he shows me that Mr. Smitthers plays the role of "Mrs. White" and is wearing a maid dress. He assigns me to be Marge and I breath a sigh of relief when later I learn that I am not the suspect. Collin wins, as always, and I demand a hug before departing.
He is still small and sweet, wearing a Bears jerzey #33 and plans on resting before the math tutor arrives. I worry that I could crush him with my hug but I also know he is way tougher than me on a million levels. His bravery and persistence run circles around me. Over and over I've watched cancer do this to people- it's initial purpose to mutate and tear the body down- only to be met with our innate human response to resist and fight and push back. We (the others) gather and pray and hug the body that is warring from within. Together we bake and cry and find absolute beauty in minor moments. Cancer cannot win when the person and their family and community becomes fiercer, braver, and flooded with love/ prayers for the holy spirit. So damned if one hug from his occupational therapist would be something to bring him down. Hold. Tighter.
He is still small and sweet, wearing a Bears jerzey #33 and plans on resting before the math tutor arrives. I worry that I could crush him with my hug but I also know he is way tougher than me on a million levels. His bravery and persistence run circles around me. Over and over I've watched cancer do this to people- it's initial purpose to mutate and tear the body down- only to be met with our innate human response to resist and fight and push back. We (the others) gather and pray and hug the body that is warring from within. Together we bake and cry and find absolute beauty in minor moments. Cancer cannot win when the person and their family and community becomes fiercer, braver, and flooded with love/ prayers for the holy spirit. So damned if one hug from his occupational therapist would be something to bring him down. Hold. Tighter.
Please join me in prayer for Collin and his absolutely devoted family.
*Permission granted to blog about Collin from his mother
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