Week seven: The awful truth

If you’re just joining me, please click here to find out what this is all about.

On Tuesday I followed a link a friend shared and was introduced to Ben Sauer. Ben is a beautiful four year old boy with a brain tumor. An aggressive brain tumor that is not responding to treatment. Barring a miracle, he has been given weeks, WEEKS, to live.

I try to stay away from these stories because they bother me so much. I know every parent can relate. Before kids, I would have been so sad for this family, but now, now that I have three of my own, I am heartbroken. I keep checking for updates while simultaneously avoiding reading them because I need to keep it together, or at least appear that I am.

I’ve been living all week under this horrible heaviness. I’ve been breaking down in tears off and on every day. I look around at everyone living their normal lives and have this overwhelming sense that none of us should be happy. Not when this family is experiencing the worst thing that could ever happen.

Saturday, March 8: “I dreamed of Ben last night. In the dream I was telling Eric about him and I just lost it, bawling. I woke up crying and prayed for him. And for my kids.”

I want to say, “I just can’t imagine” because that’s what people say when something awful happens to someone else. But that’s the problem. I can imagine. In vivid detail. Ever since I heard about sweet Ben, I keep looking at my kids and imagining. It could be us. Why not? I’m sure the Sauer family never thought they would be walking this path. The thought is terrifying. It’s beyond terrifying. I can’t even come up with an adequate word to describe it. All-consuming?

I am a stoic person. I try not to show my emotions; I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. All week I’ve tried to hide my thoughts and feelings, while also wondering if I’m the only one who entertains these fears. Perhaps other parents think it’s awful, but don’t actually have this overwhelming feeling of dread that it might actually happen to their child. I want to ask, but worry about the answer. I don’t want to put words to my thoughts, as though words will somehow turn my fears into reality.

But I’ve vowed to be honest and this is where I am. Sad. Fearful. In desperate need of knowing I’m not alone. And more than that, in desperate need of knowing God can do a miracle. No, that’s not it. I know that He can do a miracle. I just want to know that He will.

Last night I asked my boys to pray for Ben. My faith is often weak, buffeted by the circumstances I encounter and the outcomes I don’t understand. Children, on the other hand, have no such problem. Childlike faith is a beautiful thing. So as I pray for Ben, I’m relying on my children to make up for the gaps in my faith. And I’m asking you to join us in praying for a miracle.

“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory.” Ephesians 3:20-21

Ben’s blog  Ben’s Facebook page


And now, though it doesn’t seem quite right to include these this week, the part of the post where I share pictures from our real, everyday life.

cryingI hate letting people see me cry, but this was life this week.

hair cutThe boys were waiting for me to cut their hair. And then there was Annelise.

snow fort build offWe had a Snow Fort Build-Off on Saturday. I had a funnier, less flattering picture I wanted to post, but after receiving some threats, I decided it would be in my best interest to just post this one instead. To the threatener… You’re welcome.

Have a great week everyone, and remember to keep it real!

Lauren Cormier

About Lauren Cormier

Lauren is a 30-something stay at home mom who doesn't have it all together and she's pretty sure you don't either. She hopes that by sharing her real life (not the glossy made-up version) she can encourage you to drop the act and get real. Lauren lives in Hermon with her husband and their three children. She also blogs at www.ohhonestly.net