It might be... it could be...

It is! Meg is home! She is wired for apnea and drugged up, but the babe has returned, healthy and kicking.

We had a terrific day. At 1100 hours when we arrived at floor 6, the EEG had been removed. The nurse said the report looked clear, but we reserved our joy until we saw the neurologist. The pediatric physician stopped to talk to us about checking out, but still, we reserved our joy. Finally, the distinguished young neurologist entered to tell us that she had not had any seizures during the 21 hours that the EEG had been running. He mentioned that she still had some small "sparks" occurring, but the medicine was doing its job to keep the sparks from becoming blazing seizures. With all serious metabolic tests returned normal, his hope is that the meds can control the seizures and that the sparks will fade out as Meg grows. Please pray that this is the Master plan.

One would think that the story ends there. God was not done with Apostle Meg, however. Yesterday, when we were told we would need to wait another 24 hours for another EEG, admittedly our expressions dropped. We went to Toledo hoping for a Monday release, but for some reason, we had to make still one more trip home with an empty backseat. My question: Why didn't the doctors order a 24-hour observation beginning on Sunday so we could be cleared by Monday afternoon?

The answer: In the early morning hours of Tuesday, an ambulance transported a three-day-old infant, Braden, to the St. V's pediatric ICU, three rooms down from Meg. He was unwell from low blood sugar, and nurses witnessed some seizures. His parents, Ben and Carrie, found themselves right where we were eleven days prior. Our primary physician, having developed a good rapport with us over the past week, requested that we speak with them and lend them some comfort. We had the chance to hear their concerns, give them some ideas of what to expect, share our faith story, and finally pray with them for the wellness of their baby.

Again, many mature Christ-followers are thinking, "Of course that happened. That's how God works, Throne." You'll have to excuse me; I'm a little slow. But again, we pray for what we hope God will do, and we trust that He will do what He needs to for the glory of his kingdom. Our little missionary was again a conduit for her Father to reach people who desperately needed His comfort. We get the sense that this meeting was ordained, so please help us pray for Braden and his mommy and daddy.

Meg is home. We have waited to say those words. We have waited see her sleeping in her cradle. We have waited to hear her hungry cry from the living room, to have her with us as we sit down to eat supper, to watch her squirming on her blanket next to us while her proud sister tries to lovingly, but awkwardly, pick her up again and again. And many have waited with us. Those people have been Christ, Emanuel. "Thank you" seems ridiculous, but it is all we have to offer right now. That, and our sincere pledge to do the same for all whom we also find in need. May God always find us willing to serve as you all have served through prayer, resources, and abundant love.

Today is another fragment. (If you still haven't read the Woodcutter, why haven't you?) Meg still has a long process ahead, but we are hoping that the worst is far behind. Please ask God to allow the medicines to continue protecting Meg from seizures. Please, please continue to pray for her improvement for the next couple of weeks. The next part of her life is tense, and equally very critical. But Meg is home.