I wanted to write about Nola’s second birthday today. Or about the new baby coming to her house soon. Or about Claire, who is turning eight and overcoming great obstacles from her micro-preemie days. I wanted to regale you with my absurdly high hopes for the Heart of America Christian Writers Network conference I’m attending this week or astound you with some deep thoughts on community living from Deitrich Bonhoeffer.

Instead, I’m telling you about my ring. I bought it with the honorarium from the book I mentioned in a previous post, the one about Serenity and cancer and the miracles of God. I’m wearing it right now because the little blips in her lung turned out to be a recurrence of the cancer after all. And, I want a tangible, heavy, sparkling reminder that what God has done before He can do again.

We are still celebrating birthdays around here. I’m going to the writer’s conference. Charity is preparing to give birth, and Serenity is singing at a wedding this week. But, in between all those things, we are arming ourselves for a battle. We are facing an enemy we didn’t want to fight, and we are setting our faces for victory.

I’m taking a deep breath before I pick up my sword. And, I’m wearing my ring.