Nicholas was alive.
After a bone marrow transplant for leukemia at the University of Iowa, our son's new immune system was building. Nicholas, our seven-year-old, had nearly died following the transplant. He developed a virus that began multiplying and choking off what little bone marrow production he had. I asked the doctor, "Do I need to call in Nick's grandparents and the rest of the family?"
"I can't say," the doctor replied. "We'll know more this evening."
Later that afternoon, the chaplain came to visit. My wife, Vickie, and I were deeply frightened, and after some conversation, we asked her to lay hands upon Nick and us for healing. Later that day, Nicholas turned the corner. Six weeks later, we packed up our van and brought him home to the awaiting celebration. Friends and members of our church had decorated our house, cleaned it from top to bottom, and filled the pantries. We were frightened and joyful, but we celebrated our homecoming.
Two-and-half months later, ...1