I haven't spoken much about Maverick, my nearly nine year old first born son's, dramatically failing health in the last three months primarily because it has been a roller coaster on all of our emotions with good rapid peaks and even quicker declines. It has been a process just to get my thoughts wrapped around the entire thing. The bottom line is that even though I technically knew that cancerous tumors on Boxers around seven to ten years old was the "norm," I must have thought deep down that Maverick was invincible or at least way too healthy to have to worry about that, especially at a young eight years old. Well, God has a different plan for him and us and (as I just typed those last seven words, tears welled up in my eyes) he is reminding me Who is really in charge.
I can't get into the details now but I had asked Megan last week if we could meet up at a park in the next couple of weeks and take what maybe the last full family portrait of the six of us. Although that hasn't happened yet, Megan captured this much more candid and less perfect moment of us at the beach this past weekend that ultimatley maybe the best we could ever get.