Hochheben! Dear all, I have a story about my little boy Karl. He loves to toast. Every meal, before we kick back our milk (or whatever...) he lifts up his cup and says, "Hochheben!" which in German means, "raise up!" or "lift up!" Then we clink, and get down to the business of eating. The other day, the nurses were cleaning up Karl and changing the sheets. Dad and I were watching this extraordinary production, what with all the machines and tubes. As they were getting ready to do the sheet switcheroo, they grabbed the ends of the sheet that Karl was on and said, "Eins, zwei, drei, Hochheben!" Dad and I laughed out loud, thinking of how delighted Karl would be to be "hochgehoben." But he, and we, already are "hochgehoben," that is, lifted up. We are lifted up by your encouragement, by your faith, and by and in your prayers. This "hochheben" care is made possible because Jesus was also raised up, a truth which I fall down on every moment of every day. Please know that you are also "hochgehoben" in my prayers of thankfulness and praise. Now onto news of Karl. Today was a busy day. He had his first MRI, which took a picture of the inside of the brain. The outside, as I have mentioned, looked good according to the visual observation during the surgical removal of his skull, and according to the CAT scan. The procedure itself took two hours or so, not including time to prep and then get him settled back in. The results came back with signs of lesions. This, says the doctor (Ralf Rothoerl, surely a saint), was to be expected, because he has never seen an accident victim the likes of Karl with no injury. The lesions appear to be in the portion of the brain that attend to vision (perhaps he may have double vision) and short term memory. He has no lesion on his brain stem or on his spine. This is good news. It has been stressed, however, that an MRI gives only a vague idea of what to expect, and is itself no determiner of what the real damage will be--if any. That is to say, more or less, that we know about as much now as we did before today. A patient can have no lesions and many developmental problems, and many lesions and be neurologically on track. So what to do but wait. This is difficult, because I want to see my little bright-eyed boy spring up from bed like Lazarus. There are moments of brilliant action, however. I was treated to a big display from him this morning when I told him that his Auntie Else (after whom my daughter is named) is coming to visit him on Wednesday. His face got red, and his body, for the first time, moved--convulsed, actually, which according to the doctors was a sign that he was hearing me, and that he was resisting all the tubes. They had reduced his anesthesia considerably, but bumped it up for his MRI. He has remained since then in an intentional deep sleep, and tomorrow, assuming that his lung capacity is satisfactory, they will begin the weaning process in earnest. This can take a long time, and is not pretty. He will probably not wake up all of a sudden with wide-open eyes. Rather, as he becomes more and more aware, he will also become more and more frightened of the strange noises and tubes and sensations. Now, as the Germans say, gehts los. Now the danger of last week is transformed into the anxiety and anticipation of this week. We still need to be "hochgehoben" in your prayers, for Karl's recovery, for peace in his heart and mind and soul during this very frightening time for him, for Else who is such a trooper and sunshine, but who senses something isn't quite right, and for all the "grown-ups," Opa, Oma, and me, who need strength and hope. And clean laundry. I am thankful, ever so thankful, for our mutual witnessing. Bill would have been speechless at the power and real presence of the community of the saints. Peace, Anna