8.

So, this one is on the Homerton Hospital back gate. And its for K. 

I've been thinking a lot today about him: a little boy - a not so little boy really. A boy who arrived in the world so quickly his mum didn't even have time to get her trousers off (literally!) let alone get to hospital. Not that they'd planned to be in hospital. A calm home birth in a pool at home had been the plan. K scuppered that by arriving in a rush, impatient for life and wanting to dictate the pace of things from the word go. It suited his mum who never really liked hospitals though she'd had to go to the Homerton after her first born for a bit of stitching back together. And she'd graciously come with me after I 'miscarried' my second. 

She had to spend a lot of time not long after that at that hospital, and at Barts. Only 6 short months after K arrived so abruptly she was getting chemo for stomach cancer. Blood tests and scans and consultations dominated her life for a while. Then she went off and left us. And though he was too small to know it, it was probably K who missed her the most. 

He is one of the funniest, sweetest, smartest kids I know but sometimes a dark mood descends and for a time things are all wrong and life is hard - for him and for those who love and care for him. I got a text today from his new mum. The brilliant, beautiful, gutsy lady who took on his dad and K and his big sister. Asking me to pray for K as he seemed to be lost in a black place. 

Thankfully when I was in touch later she said it had lifted quickly and he'd had an OK day. But it's a trial for all of them. And difficult to fathom. The family are off to live in New York City soon. A new adventure in faith and family life. She wondered, with a laugh, if what happened today meant she should pray every day. I thought it could be a good Lenten discipline. I seem to be notching them up.