“Mommy, I’m scared of the hairplane out the window.”     This wasn’t the first time Kate had told me about her “hairplane” scare... but it was the first time she mentioned that it was out the window.  

And there, at 5:30 AM, the light began to dawn.

Kate has a winsome way of adding and “h” to the beginning of words that start with vowels.   For example, we go to the hairport to see hairplanes.   We bake cookies in the hoven, and she plays with a purple hoctopus in the bath tub. 

Multiple times she has stumbled to my bed in the wee hours to tell me she was afraid of the hairplane.    Usually she’s shaky and tearful, and I’m confused.   I thought she liked hairplanes.

But two mornings ago, it finally dawned on me (long before the actual dawn) that it must be a plane that takes off or lands around 5:30 in the morning.   It is always about that time when she has awakened me.

I told her not to worry, the plane was flying far away, and it wouldn’t come in the window.   Gratefully, that has seemed to settle the issue... either that or the pilot just hasn’t flown his early morning run the last two days!

That picture was what came to my mind when I laid in bed a little while ago and tried to sleep.   I was contemplating the word “Abba.”    Daddy, the intimate name we’re allowed to call Almighty God when we are his children.   I was laying in bed trying not to sniff and wake Nathaniel as tears were running down my cheeks.    Suddenly, I thought of how to express it.    “Abba, I’m scared of the hairplane.”  

It was comforting to think that the same compassion that I feel as a parent when my little girl is scared beside my bed was now available to me.   (Minus the foggy brain and sleepy mumbling Kate gets from me!)   Unfortunately, my scary airplane did come through the window, and we’ve been dealing with the havoc it wreaked for the last several months.

Someone asked me today if I’m nervous about this last round of chemo.   I glibly answered that I didn’t think so, I feel pretty good.    You can put up with anything when you know it’s the last time.   So I’ve been packing, cleaning, getting ready to leave on the morning flight, and all the while this heavy feeling of dread has been growing.   Finally around 11 PM, while throwing in a load of laundry, I realized the source... I must be nervous about this next round!

Around 1 AM, as I was getting ready to get in bed, I admitted to myself that I wasn’t feeling nervous, I was SCARED!   Not just of the chemo ahead, but of the fact that I don’t know what  comes after that.   Several people have asked, “What’s next?” and I don’t have an answer.   Do I keep going for checkups?   Does the cancer start to grow again?    How soon till surgery?   I just don’t know yet.   I guess we’ll start finding out tomorrow.

Well I tried to sleep and instead I cried, and wished I could make it all go away.   Thinking of Kate brought a smile through my tears.   It’s easy for me to not worry about a flight overhead... I’m big, and have that special knowledge that the flight plan doesn’t include collision with our house!  I’m grateful to tonight to remember that my Heavenly Father never sleeps, and that He knows what to do about my scary hairplane.  

So, like Kate, I guess I’ll go back to bed, and let my Father tuck my spirit in securely, and drift off to sleep satisfied that He knows I’m scared, and I’ve been promised that it’s all under control.