By Tim Hunt
A mom's reflection on a horrible SaturdayUploaded: Feb 14, 2012
Last weekend was a particularly difficult one for the Centerpointe Church family in Pleasanton.
Saturday afternoon, many of us learned that young Logan Wight had lost his 18-month battle with a nasty brain cancer. His weeks on this globe were spent in an isolation unit at Children's Hospital in Oakland with his parents and grandparents constantly present.
God took him home Saturday, freeing him from the pain, the tubes and the medical procedures and setting him free in Heaven.
It stung many of us who were praying for God to miraculous restore his body because all of the best medicine wasn't working. That didn't happen, but God did restore him.
His mother, Shari, has written an amazing series of blogs that chronicle the roller-coaster ride that she, Logan and their family have endured for the past 18 months.
Here are some excerpts from her entry Saturday afternoon. They are an amazing statement of a mother's faith and hope.
The Longest Day and a Trip Home
Today didn't hold what I'd expected…
(After an early morning mother-daughter dance class, we returned home to learn)…that the PICU doctors (at Children's Hospital in Oakland) had called several times to (say) that Logan's condition was deteriorating rapidly. I cried as we headed for CHO. There was nothing else I could do and my mommy's heart sensed what was to come. I tried to fight it, but I knew.
We got there and Adam's dad took care of the car for us as we high-tailed it to his room. He was stable, but with a very, very low heart rate, very low blood pressure and very low oxygen saturation. When I saw the numbers on the monitor, my heart fell into my knees.
We had the kids come in to see him. Abby resisted at first, but finally relented. Isaac marched in, said hi to Logan and then asked to play a game on Adam's phone. Brady, well, he's 13 months old. He wanted me to nurse him. So I did.
As we mulled the torturous decision (to switch to palliative care), our pastor showed up and I asked him for his thoughts. I'm so grateful that he came and that he was there to walk with us through such a horrible day. (In the palliative care room) we sang to him; I sang "You are My Sunshine" one last time, and Adam sang a collection of bedtime ritual tunes. He opened his eyes just a bit and I saw him take a few very weak, very ragged breaths. And then he was gone.
Shortly afterward as I sat there cradling his little bruised, battered body, I had a vision. I remember telling Adam 'Do you see it? Do you see it?' My mind was filled to the brim with an image of Logan. He was standing in white light. He had his beautiful strawberry blonde hair back and a smile on his face, and he was waving. He was happy. It gave me peace and broke my heart all at once.
But in spite of myself and my human imperfections and worries and fears and doubts, I know that I will see him again. I know that we'll dance together. I know that we'll laugh together. I know that this life is not the end. I know that some of you don't believe that's true, but I hope that you'll open your heart a little and give God a try. Logan did. And he's my hero. He's the bravest, most peaceful, most tolerant, kindest person I've ever known and I'm lucky to be his mommy, even if I can't hold him again during this life.
I think it's important that I reiterate that last point: God loves YOU. Just like He loves Logan and my family. Logan didn't get called home because God was a jerk or because He didn't care. I don't know why he was called home so soon. And I'll never really know. But we live in a fallen world, and I don't want anyone to ever blame God for what happened to Logan. Sin is rampant, evil is rampant. And sometimes, it looks like evil wins. But it doesn't.
Because Logan is in Paradise. My arms and my heart ache to hold him, but he's in arms that are better than my own…