This has been a week filled with blessings. James is finally pulling up again and standing flat-footed after having his casts removed. Ian has had his “C” collar removed from his neck (for a fractured vertebrae) and is breathing each day for hours on the CPAP. Today, he nodded assent to a nurse who asked a yes/no question, and he pleased his neurologist with his responses to her “commands.”

Of course, we’re delighted. However, we still must wait and keep ourselves and each other from constantly asking Ian for reactions, as he needs all his energy for physical therapy and for breathing with the CPAP.

Individuals who have traumatic brain injuries have one third of the brain energy that the rest of us have. That’s so very difficult to remember, especially when we get excited and want to see one of Ian’s responses that another family member saw or when we’d like to see if he what he’s comprehending and whether he can do something new.

So far, I’ve missed one tongue sticking out (on command of course!), two smiles, two thumbs up poses, time on the tilt board, and affirmative nods to questions, among other responses. While I’ve seen examples of purposeful movement, these “didn’t count,” as no one official—no nurse, technician, doctor, or even other family member–saw the movements to corroborate.

For me as Ian’s mother, waiting to see, wanting to see, to experience what I think others have experienced tempts me to feel fearful and even angry: what if the progress really wasn’t real because I didn’t see it?

As I thought today about my desperate wishing to have seen one of the “tiny miracles” today, someone’s mention of doubting reminded me of Thomas, forever branded as “doubting”—a story that has always resonated with me. Thomas’ wanting to have irrefutable evidence prompted him to question the Lord for a second validation, beyond that of his own sight. Though accommodating, as you know, Jesus’ response was a blessing for those who have faith without seeing (John 20:24-29).

My story of doubt seems foolish when compared to Thomas, yet our stories share an emphasis on self instead of God and others.

Yes, these past few days, the Williams and Beard families have praises and joys, but we also continue waiting, focusing and re-focusing on our goal of helping Ian. For myself, I end up helping Ian more when I simply continue to orient and re-orient away from self, towards my Creator:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.” –Proverbs 3:5-6