There is so much to do.

Time is running away from me. The deadline is imminent. Soon, it will not matter that I’ve not completed my to-do list. We will go, regardless of whether we feel ready or not.

I’m trying to prepare my children. We talk of it every day, and I assure them that, although we don’t know exactly what lies ahead, this does not have to be scary. We are trusting God to care for us. He will never forsake us.

I think of it all the time. I filter my plans and actions: Does this help me get ready, or is it a distraction? Unfortunately, this does not prevent me from accidentally distracting myself anyway. I must be more focused in the days to come.

When I look at all that remains to be done, I panic. The last few weeks went by too fast. What did I do in January? It’s gone already, and I’ve barely started.

On Saturday, I was reading over the papers that outlined what to expect. It was too much, too overwhelming. I have no idea how we will manage it. I speak to my children of trust, but my own heart trembles.

This will change us, as all experiences do. I’m not sure this pleases me. I like who I am now, who we are now, and I fear being different.

And what if the answer, the result, breaks our hearts? Oh, God, let it not be so.

I’m talking about preparing for our daughter’s hospital stay.

But I could be, should be, talking about preparing for eternity.

I pray I will be prepared for both when they come.