How do you love someone who was given a death sentence for their child?  What do you say?  What can you say?  How can you be there when you don't live there? 

Truly - I really need to know.

On Friday, Chris' best childhood friend was told that his son has 8 months to live.  Inoperable brain tumor.  Chemo and radiation.  Steroids. 

The night they found out, Chris & I spent the night on a hospital waiting room couch.  All their other family and friends had gone home to rest.  Our kids were being cared for by their grandparents and we wanted to make sure that they had someone within reach, just in case they needed it.

Now they're home trying to figure out their new normal, and we're back home with our kids praying and hoping for them.  Waiting for a phone call, just in case.  Grateful to know that they are surrounded by friends and family in their town over an hour from ours.  Hoping they know we're here and would be there if we could.

But we still want to encourage them.  We still want them to know that we're here.  How do we do that?  Cards seem lame.  Phone calls interrupt their quiet time and just serve to give them one more person to report to.  How do you hug someone you can't reach?

For now we pray.  And we hug our own kids.  And we pray some more.

But how can we help them?  I wish I knew.