Igot to live with a two-year-old once. His name is Caleb, the son of my wife’s brother, Chris. My brother in law’s whole family stayed with us for a month while Chris, a medical student, rotated at our clinic.

Caleb was adorable and brought great joy to my wife, Melanie. His big brown eyes and toothy smile had a way of lighting up the world around him.

But they don’t call this stage of life “the terrible twos” for nothing, and Caleb had his moments. Most notable was the degree to which he would cling to his mother. Even if she left the room for a moment, Caleb would begin to whimper or cry.

One day, in an effort to help with Caleb’s attachment issues, Chris and his wife decided to go on a date. They slipped out without telling Caleb, who was blissfully playing in the backyard under Melanie's watchful eye.

On my way inside the house, I saw the couple backing out of the driveway. Chris waved and wished me good luck. He knew what was about to take place.

Stepping into the house, I heard the sounds of a gleeful toddler playing outside. He didn’t know yet.

Before long, Caleb ran into the house and into the guest room where his parents usually stayed. No parents there. He looked in our bedroom. No parents. Caleb began to whimper. He ran back outside and then back into the guest room. Still no Mommy or Daddy.

Now he was crying. “You want to play, Caleb? You want to play?” My wife asked, to no avail. The boy wanted one thing and we didn’t have it. 

Now Caleb was at the front door turning the knob. “You want to look for Mommy and Daddy?” I asked. “Okay, let’s go!” 

Melanie and I took Caleb outside and started walking toward the neighborhood playground. We pointed to various objects and asked Caleb to name the color. The distraction seemed to calm him down for a few minutes, before he again erupted into tears. 

On the playground, his mood improved temporarily. His most enjoyable activity comprised of tossing the wood chips that covered the playground into the air.

As soon as we headed home, the cries for Mommy and Daddy resumed. Entering our empty house, Caleb collapsed on the floor crying.

The only thing that finally brought him comfort was the embrace of Mom and Dad after their short date.

Comparing Perspectives

In this experience, I was struck by the difference in perspectives. To this two-year-old, his world was collapsing around him. The sources of his love, comfort, food and care were gone. He was crushed. His parents had abandoned him. In Caleb’s mind, he would be utterly alone forever.

Melanie and I had another, much less dramatic, perspective. Caleb’s parents would only be gone for an hour before returning home. He was not abandoned but needed to learn to be without his parents and trust the supervision of other loved ones. From our perspective, Caleb would be just fine.

When I Learned Mom Got Cancer

A few weeks ago, I learned my Mom has cancer. Her PET/CT showed evidence of the cancer in her right shoulder, ribs and left heel. It hurt her to walk. Just breathing caused her pain. I cried over the phone with her when she found out. We didn’t know how much time she had left.

She has multiple myeloma. Her father passed away three months after diagnosis at the age of 63. Three of Mom’s friends have died within the same year of being diagnosed with this cancer. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Mom is only 64 and I expected her to at least reach the same age as her own mother, 84. She is supposed to have at least 20 more years left.

That would be enough time for her to see the birth of my son.

That would be enough time for her to see my sister get married.

That would be enough time for her to see her granddaughters grow up.

Now cancer threatened all of it.

My world was collapsing. I was crushed. God had abandoned me. I was alone.

How I Have the Perspective of a Two-Year-Old

My perspective is similar to that of a two-year-old. My view is so small, so limited, so self-centered. Yet God invites me to trust Him, and in doing so I take on His perspective. 

It’s a perspective I want. It’s bigger. It’s hopeful. It’s eternal. It’s meaningful.

How Much Time Left?

I took a last minute flight to Houston to be with my Mom during her doctor’s appointment. The doctors gave us hope. God gave us hope.

The doctors explained to us that even though it was affecting her bones, this cancer was still in its early stages. With current therapies, the median survival was 7-10 years.

 Maybe there was more time than I originally thought. I probably don’t have 20 years left with Mom, but maybe we can get 10 more years together.

Meanwhile, I’ll be treasuring the few moments I have left with her.

Meanwhile, I’m learning to have God's perspective.