We made it through the rain...

As a teenager, I began an apparently-life-long-habit of singing every rain song I know every time a drop or two of moisture falls from the sky.

Historically, my favorite has been "It's Raining on Prom Night," from the Grease soundtrack -- I have my dear friend Robyn to thank for that one. We used to sing it loud and proud once upon a teenage-time.

Lucky for my family and friends, I now live in a desert. They rarely have to listen.

So, maybe knowing monsoon season is upon us has me preparing for my songfest. I don't know. But for the last couple of days, I look at my Benjamin and want to belt out Barry Manilow's "I made it through the rain." Really really loudly.

If you have hung out with me here -- or anywhere -- in the last few months, then you know that in November a routine x-ray for Benjamin revealed a massive change in his scoliosis. His degree of curve had gone from 17 degrees to 75 degrees in one year. Unheard of really. From the moment the image appeared on the computer screen where I was standing with the x-ray technician, a storm engulfed us that would try us, test us, and leave us emotionally, mentally and physically drained for months. Months.

I forgot momentarily that I was in the middle of my husband's workplace. I forgot to hold myself together at all. I completely fell apart. Awash in tears, I could only imagine the pain of having your entire back opened and rods put in. I could only imagine a horrible recovery. I could only imagine the challenge of caring for my boy without hurting him further. It was awful in my imaginings. Awful.

People tried to encourage us -- Benjamin and I. The surgeons -- Dr. Greg, Dr. Lee and even Dr. Dad -- assured us that everyone says this recovery is so much better than the hip surgery recovery Benjamin had endured four years ago.

I refused to listen. Not one of them had lived through it as a patient -- or a parent. I doubted them mightily.

Surgery for Benjamin was six weeks ago today. Six weeks. Honestly, Benjamin and I discussed it as we drove downtown Wednesday for his follow-up appointment. It feels like months. Maybe years. It has not been an easy recovery. It has not been to us a fast recovery.

And yet, it was better than the pain of the hip surgery recovery -- so you were right Drs. White, Segal and Shrader. I apologize for doubting you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking care of my boy.

But I will not minimize what Benjamin has been through. It was not easy.

My kiddo went from the x-ray on the left, to the one on the right. There was pain. There was re-training of the muscles that help him sit up. There was pain in the stretching. There was pain in the sitting. There was pain in the laying down.

But my son? Benjamin was more Superman than the man of steel (though he prefers Batman...). He was a rock star with his determination to push through the pain. He was stoic in his resolve to stay off the pain medications so that he could interact with us and his friends. He hated the way they made him feel. He was brave in trying new ways to lay flat; new ways to lay prone; and in the new way he sits tall in his wheelchair.

Look how tall he sits??

And this week, as we celebrate the six week mark, and amazing x-rays, and a much improved level of pain, I am singing. "I (We) made it through the rain...." And I keep singing how we kept our point of view....but I am as notorious for messing up lyrics as I am for singing rain songs, so I began to doubt myself. So I looked up the lyrics. Do you remember them?? They are rich, my friends. May I share some of them:

I made it through the rain

I kept my world protected

I made it through the rain

I kept my point of view.

I made it through the rain

And found myself respected

By the others who

Got rained on too

And made it through.....

Thank you, Mr. Barry Manilow -- your music from 1980 resonates with me still. And speaks exactly how I feel today.

We made it.

We weathered the storm. And though the rain at times was torrential, we had amazing prayer warriors holding umbrellas over us. We had friends carting Cate from venue to venue (Thank you, H!); we had dear ones bringing us meals; dear ones sending movies to add to our summer list of entertainment; and we had warriors on their knees taking Benjamin before the throne of God repeatedly, tirelessly.

Oh, we are so grateful. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, my friends. You have blessed us mightily during a season I dreaded and feared and wanted to hide from.

We did indeed make it through the rain, but only because you held the umbrellas.