Miracle

I had a heartfelt phone call today.

It was my friend Tatum. She is only sixteen years old.

Tatum has cancer and she is very ill.

She called me today to tell me that she feels terribly weak and in her words is "ready to move on."

Tatum's parents refuse to believe that Tatum might not survive.

A while back she told me they will not let her talk about death or dying because they say they are expecting a miracle to cure her.

They believe if she mentions or acknowledges death, she is - in effect - giving up her battle.

They say that a miracle will happen. They know it will.

I can only imagine what pain they are in and what they are going through, but I wish they could see that a miracle has already happened.

Tatum is that miracle.

She has spent most of her time at the hospital comforting little kids in treatment. Apparently she is the best cuddler in the business.

Tatum is that miracle.

She has never wallowed in her own self-pity. She has never used her situation to take advantage of others. (Except when she asked for Gavin DeGraw's autograph.)

Tatum is that miracle.

She makes the most of every day and then some.

And then some more.

Tatum is that miracle.

She stands up for what she believes in and God bless those who get in her way.

Tatum, you are amazing. You inspire me. I know someone will be reading this blog entry to you, so I just wanted to tell you that having you as a friend means so much to me. I love you, girl.

Tatum, as the sun sets today, I see you as a magnificent tree with your roots firmly planted in the ground and your embracing branches reaching ever skyward to the place you call the "second storey."

Keep the faith girl, because there are a pair of outstretched arms above you, simply waiting to lift you up.

And hold you.

And comfort you.