Morning Bells Are Ringing Dear all, Well, yesterday and today have been very good days. Karl was very active, such that his tiny little hands needed to be tied to the bed, so that he doesn't try to pull out his tubes. He moved his head and his extremities, he resisted pressure on his foot, his pupils are neither dialated nor fixed, and the two most important events--he breathed, albeit shortly, on his own, and he pooped. All glorious. The action really began when I played his music box toy, which has the tune to "Frere Jacques," or, in English, "Are you sleeping/ are you sleeping/ brother John? brother John?/ Morning bells are ringing/ Morning bells are ringing/ Ding dong ding. Ding dong ding." We love this song, and sing it in English, French, and German. When he heard it today, he did everything but dance on the bed--perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but I was just as tickeled as if he had. Morning bells are ringing. I hope that the night is fading. Another highlight was when I was unsure whether Karl was awake or asleep. I asked him to move his hands if he wanted me to talk, and he did, along with his legs, feet, and head. He hears me. He has started physical therapy, because his extremities are becoming stiff from laying in bed for so long. The woman is very kind, and he responds to her gentle touch. The doctor is very pleased by his progress, and hesitantly even suggested that he was surprised by his progress, that his advances were coming faster than he expected. However, my personal challenge is to balance not wanting false hope, and not wanting to lose hope altogether. This is truly a spiritual battle, because hope sustains me, but lost hope can, quite simply, depress the spirits. I am tempted to protect myself against hope, but then would hand over a victory that I am not willing to cede. Yet again, as a good Lutheran, I am living in the ambiguity. Karl's 3rd birthday is on July 14th (Bill's 37th was on last Wednesday, four days after he died). I am still holding out hope that Karl can at least lick a strawberry ice cream cone, a not-to-shabby substitute for the strawberry-chocolate torte he has asked for since January. That need not be an occasion for directed prayer! But he licks his lips when I talk to him about it, and I would love to let him taste that rather than the tube that is in his mouth now. My sister arrived from Anchorage, AK, yesterday, yet again a sign of support. Yeterday was a memorial service for Bill, held in Castlewood, one which took on a life of its own, as I had no planning involvement at all. It, too, was a sign of support, and of the love that people had for my husband. Bill will be missed, as you all can see from the growing list of people who are on this list. Plans for a web site are in the works, so that you don't need to fiddle with all the addresses, though if you want to continue receiving the notes, I will gladly send them off. Again, I give God thanks for each of you, and for your continuing prayers, love, cards, and calls. I am always at the hospital now, staying overnight (Else is such a hit that the chief nurse has said that any woman wanting to get pregnant needs to fill out an application through him first!). But I am not about to miss the grand opening of those beautiful blue eyes!!! You will all be the first to know. In Christ, Anna