The love of so many and somebody is too happy to be in hospital

Monica and I don't have a TV in the house, but our children have still become friends with some of the heroes of children's TV: Diego, Thomas the Tank Engine/Train (depending on which side of the pond you live), and the favorite, Bob the Builder. The picture above was taken just a few hours ago in the play room on our new (non-intensive care) floor, and shows you one of Elliott's more elaborate solutions to congestion on our roads: unreasonably tall cars! As with every great designer, Elliott is never happy with his product and so took the painful step of destroying (with some force) each design just as it was completed. The long suffering and excellent 'Child Life' (a program to help children and their siblings through hospital stays) volunteer picked up the pieces every time, and Elliott began to build again.

That is of course exactly what we have been doing, literally, in the case of the arteries in Elliott's left kidney, and figuratively, with life as we used to know it. Yet, you would hardly know it today. For, the truth is that Elliott's play room escapades have revealed to the staff on the unit the hidden truth: this boy is just too happy to be in hospital. Elliott's recovery has been nothing short of remarkable. He is now completely off pain meds, he has yet to take one blood pressure medication, he has freed himself from the machines that bleep and bubble, and if his bowel would just wake up we could all take a family trip to the Great Lakes.

It has been such a great blessing to see Elliott do so well. He laughed more today than he has in a long time, and even managed to make Annie laugh (sort of) when she came to his bedside this afternoon.

What do we attribute this happiness to? Well, when you are four years old, and you are told that the only thing you can eat for now are Popsicles and Jello (Jelly in English) you know the day is going to be a good one. The other reason is, quite simply, you.

If you are still reading this blog, the chances are that you are among the many who have prayed for Elliott, sent him cards, books, stickers, cars, crayons, markers, and lots of beautiful pictures and heartfelt words. The picture above is the view from Elliott's bed. He has little reason to doubt that he is deeply and widely loved.

The big banner across the top of the picture before this one was painted by his preschool teachers and friends, as were the tassels that were tied onto the quilt shown in this picture. So many of you have showered him with such an abundance of generosity that there are times when I think that he forgets that he is in hospital at all. This outpouring of love for our dear Elliott has also touched Monica and I deeply. The package that brought me to tears yesterday, as we were settling into our new room was a collection of drawings by 20 or so fifth graders, sent by one of our dear friends in northern California. The line that got me was 'compassion-filled fifth graders'. They had never even met Elliott, yet here they were dedicating a part of their day to show him their love.

It is that sort of gratuitous love - the love that dives right in with you, like Euan in this picture of him at the 'Hands On Museum' today (it's great when somebody else clears up the mess) - that has meant so much to us these past few days and weeks. So, thank you for diving right in there with us, and thank God for the remarkable resilience of the human body, particularly the one belonging to our son.