Wednesday Warriors.

A Weekly Call to Prayer for our Lucy Jane Tedder.

Fingerprints are not the only thing unique to us. What makes us laugh and what we find giggle-able varies greatly from human to human.

Our Lucy Tedder is funny.

She’s always been so. Of all the grandkids, she (along with her curly headed cousin, Samuel) ensure top priority to the ridiculous. They laugh a lot. Jokes and their delivery are important to Lucy Jane. Each year her timing and wit increase. And while leukemia has dampened nearly all of life, it has not clamped out her class-clown status.

Heavy steroids those first weeks of cancer treatment forced her to live perpetually hungry. She packed away the food. The doctors loved that because calories and nutrients gave energy and helped fuel the dreadful days. Weight gain was welcomed in her eight year old body.

When I was in Arkansas recently, I went to pick up the other kids at school while Lucy stayed at home with mommy.

Back at the house and before her uniformed siblings stormed in all sweaty and ripe, she was ravenous again. A snack was a must. So she made yesterday’s-news of some leftover taco meat in the fridge. Mommy warmed it up for her.

I pulled up at Lucy’s home with her brother and sisters. We came in through the garage. Backpacks to the floor, shoes off, and at last the house was full of laughter and loud.

But what I saw was a bit shocking and yet so very wonderful. Our Lucy was sitting at the table! The couch and the bed had been her dwelling places thus far in this homebound journey.

It was wonderful to see her new position. But she was sitting up in theory only. Her tired little head was down and turned sideways. The right and rather pale cheek was pressed against the smooth wooden tabletop. Her arms were stretched out while her flattened palms absorbed the coolness of the oak. She felt terrible.

Oliver went straight to the fridge. He too, was starving but for boy reasons.

Flinging open the freon filled doors, his eyes scanned the clear shelves. He couldn’t find it.

Then his eleven year old self exclaimed, “Where’s the taco meat?!”

He was not happy because he had been dreaming about devouring that cumin laced ground cow for the past two hours. He was all about that beef. How could it be gone?

“Who ate that meat?” He demanded again.

Lucy lifted her head from across the room. Then she turned towards the whirring fridge where her big brother still stood.

“I ate it Oliver,” she said sternly. “I threw it up…but you can still have it if you want!”

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Lucy’s still funny.
Cancer is not.
No evil from hell can take my grand girl’s funny away. Don’t even try.


Please pray that the joy of the Lord will continue to be her strength. It has been a rough week. The new oral chemo meds are taking their toll. She’s weak. And we can't stand it.

Thank you, Wednesday Warriors!