A Kasey Musgraves song, “Rainbow,” was playing this morning and I thought it was ironic after the big storm I drove through last night. Yesterday, plodding home after pampering myself with a haircut and pedicure, I thought the skies looked ominous and dangerous. The wind started to push me on the barely visible road, and the pelting rain had my wipers going in overdrive. Exiting US-23 at Territorial Road, I pulled into the gas station because an eerie feeling about the weather had me taking precautions. Knowing my drive home was filled with tree-lined roads — and trees fall in heavy wind and rain — I called Dave to say I was going to sit tight and wait it out. I wasn’t the only one either. Within minutes, the gas station parking lot was at capacity with others taking the same precautionary measures.

Ten minutes later, I felt I had my opening to make the rest of the trip home. Within two minutes, I came upon the first fallen tree. I veered around the large live tree, mirroring the few cars in front of me. After swerving around four more fallen trees, the fifth and final tree stopped all of us. It clearly blocked the entire road, and there was no way around this huge tree. One by one, we took turns backing our way out of this precarious situation.

The remaining 20 minute drive home took 40 minutes of back roads, and with white knuckles and a moment of a thankful prayer, I pulled into the garage safely. The torrential downpour and driving winds continued beyond the closed door. There I sat thinking that this situation was identical to what we are experiencing right now. Roadblock after roadblock, we have been forced to reroute and change directions. Inevitably, our goal will always be to make it home healthy and safely without any more stormy weather.

A second bone marrow transplant is seemingly ominous and somewhat dangerous, but precautions will be taken. Preliminary results show that Dave’s heart and lungs are still in excellent condition despite the storms he has endured in the past 16 months. His counts are holding steady, slowly improving with each visit to Karmanos. Although Dr. Uberti will make the final determination next week, we remain positive that this decision to move forward is our route to better days ahead.

As the skies are finally clearing, we continue to imagine the exact moment when you first see a rainbow. Simply thinking about it makes me smile. And, even though we’ve weathered some rough days and multiple roadblocks, there’s always been a rainbow hanging over our heads.

A few things exist on my list that are mandatory for summer success. Because, let’s face it, many of us live in Michigan for the summers, falls and near-perfect weather that we enjoy. Of course, that’s easy for me to say on the sweltering 90 plus days. I just jump in the lake.

So, here are some of the rules for the summer of 2019.

We have three to four weeks to make new memories before Dave is admitted into Karmanos for his second bone marrow transplant. Next week, tests will be performed on his heart and lungs to ensure that they can withstand another difficult procedure. In the meantime, he needs to relax, swim and play while I work my magic on helping him eat plenty to gain weight and increase his strength and stamina. Although not much of a napper, the recovery from the Besponsa (Inotuzumab) has him requiring naps most afternoons. He has finally welcomed that part of recuperation.

Both Dave and I look forward to our quiet cup of coffee on the deck each morning. Following the mandatory rule of flip flops is a go, but soaking up the sun is a no. His skin cannot tolerate the scorching sun, nor can he tolerate the humidity very well. So, he does “wet a line” occasionally hoping to catch a fish or two, but time outside is a bit limited right now. We will enjoy campfires in the next few evenings when the days and nights are a little cooler. But every moment is relished and enjoyed. We are so thankful that another opportunity for a cure is available.

If I could add one last thing to the lake rules list, it would be to pray often. I still pray that the “miracle” remission is followed by complete healing. The second bone marrow transplant will be more difficult, but Dave is motivated and ready to take this on again. So as the lake rules go, we have some living to do before August. Our summer will be seemingly short, but I’m sure it will be a success.

How do you measure when a miracle has taken place? Dave and I have been fortunate to have experienced so many blessings in this journey from so many people, but how will we know when it is THEE one?

On June 4, we were brought to our knees in pure agony and despair as the doctors delivered the news that there was nothing more that they could do to rid ourselves from this ruthless leukemia. I can’t tell you how it feels to have your heart and dreams shattered with those simple words. With compassion and deep sadness in their eyes, they said that it was time to go home to Michigan and be with our family. The CAR T-Cells did not work and the biopsy results recorded disease at 72 percent in the marrow. They could only prepare us for the journey home as quickly and as pain-free as possible.

But how will I really know that this is a miracle? There was no hope in sight. On June 4, still on our knees from the news, we asked Jesus to continue to stay with us and give us strength. I never stopped asking for complete healing and never once questioned why this was happening. Dave’s counts were beyond comprehension, as intense pain is normally coupled with elevated inflammatory markers of this proportion. But there was no pain. We are sure that He was taking care of that for Dave. There is no other way to explain it. That’s when we knew that we were in the middle of a miracle.

How do you measure a miracle? The bone marrow biopsy was performed for one reason, and that was to determine what the next step would be for Dave. Dr. Uberti, from Karmanos, told us that if Dave was in remission, we need to consider a second bone marrow transplant. If leukemia was still present, there was nothing more that could be done. And although we talked about it as little as possible, the wait from Monday’s biopsy until Wednesday afternoon was a quiet, unexplainable, emotional pain. Late Wednesday afternoon, Dr. Uberti called to inform us that Dave is in remission. There were no leukemic cells present in the biopsy and his body is generating good cells.

mir·a·cle – /ˈmirək(ə)l/

Miracles consistently serve to point people to the one true God, ultimately revealed in Jesus Christ. The primary purposes is not to meet human need, although that is an important spinoff blessing.

This is how you measure if a miracle has taken place. When there is no hope, when you have done everything physically and medically possible and when you have faithfully prayed and trusted in God. He answered all of our prayers. Yours. Mine. Dave’s.

How long does a miracle last? I don’t know if miracles work like that. I am far from an expert on miracles. But it is good for now. And as our journey continues, our faith in the Great Healer has only intensified. He is good. He’s still with us, carrying us when we cannot walk, and walking with us when we long to run. That is the measure of a miracle.