Sunday, December 16, 2012

Hope Floats

Guest Post from Mike and Meg Greto:

I have often wondered where this idea comes from, haven't you?  The idea that
hope floats?  As if like a balloon it brings us up out of the place
where we are, gives us a new perspective, and guides us... up?  Where?
To some place where we gain a better vantage point, a different
perspective? Is it it's own place?  Where the perspective is perfect?

Every now and then, I come to this little blog space and hope for an
update.  I'm not sure what I expect to see or read (am I the only one in
this silliness?)... Just a little note.  Maybe from Patrick? Crazy,
right?  Maybe from others around the world who were and are touched by
this special space and chronicle of a life that, well, had hope.
Patrick knew this hope!  He shared this hope!  And, really it's one of
the reasons why this blog is such a place for people to come and find
comfort and peace, which I believe lead to HOPE.  It changes our

This week last year, there was hope.  Hope that Patrick would recover,
hope that, although his cancer had returned, he could fight it and
live a little while longer with his sweet wife and daughter.  And, if
you are reading these posts from last year and remembering, with
tears, all the times that are to come, you may wonder where the hope
is?  But, you see, as you read, the hope is still there.  It's still
hanging in that hospital room.  It's floating like a balloon that's
lost it's string in the corner by the air conditioner return, just
waiting for someone to look beyond.  Look up.

Patrick was so good at that!  He loved life and loved living it to the
fullest.  He KNEW this hope and it guided and directed everything he
did.  That's why this little blog is such a draw to people. And, it's
why Patrick's aunt, Sarah Young, has dedicated a book about hope to
him.  It's called Jesus Today, and its about hope. On this earth, PK
was a beacon to this hope. And this Advent season he gets to
experience the celebration, from a heavenly perspective, that we down
here only see in shadows.

If you've been thinking about Patrick this holiday season, please
check out the book. The dedication is lovingly written and a percentage of 
the sales go to Patrick's sweet wife and daughter, Julie
and Cecilia.

Our prayer is that this season will bring you hope, like you've never
been introduced to before!

Blessings, in the hope of Advent,

Ephesians 1:18 "that you may know the hope to which he has called you..."


Hello, there. It seems so strange to write on this blog again. I've thought about posting something many times since I last wrote, but could never really imagine what I'd write. It feels odd to post something under the "get well pk" banner, because we all know full well he never got well. Well, he never got well this side of heaven. I trust that he is enjoying himself up there; happy, healthy, and in the beautiful final form God had always intended for him.  (It doesn't mean that I don't selfishly wish he was down here with me, in this broken, violent, sick world.)  Alas, it shall not be so.

Cecilia and I are doing as well as can be. We're adjusting back to life in Durham, NC, and so thankful for the community that we already had here, which helped catch us and hold us up as we landed back "home".  She's three now, and fully embracing her little life, imaginative play and all of her new friends. We talk about Patrick a lot, and she seems to remember him and the fun things they would do together: "when I was a baby, daddy used to throw me in the air and catch me!"..."I am a fast runner (which she is) like my daddy (which he was)"..."daddy taught me to ride my bike, now I ride it fast like a big girl!" Her daddy is her personal superhero.  It breaks my heart that he's already missed so many fun stages of her life already, and I hate the fact that he won't be at the big moments to come. I am trying to have hope that God will sustain us, and comfort us, even in those difficult memories and intense absences.

It's so hard to think about where we were at this point last year - in the ICU, learning the devastating news that Patrick would never get better - I remember how hard Christmas was, how much I wanted to cling to my husband's dying body and make him all better. I also remember the hundreds of friends, families and seemingly strangers who entered that room, who brought us joy, love and comfort. I can never thank you enough for your kindness, for your Christmas gifts, for your beautiful angels that dangle on our tree again this year, for your prayers, cards, gift cards, donations, offers of help, yummy food... You came alongside of us in the darkest of times, and we are so thankful for you.

I wanted to write today, because I have a special guest post to include from our friends Mike and Meg Greto. They were so kind and eager to post this, so I wanted to be sure to get it up here before it got lost in the mess of Christmas.

Blessings on each of you this Christmas - may you know the comforting, redeeming love of the Christ babe in a new way.

Julie and Cecilia