Getting ready

I'm leaving for the hospital in just one short hour. The clothes I'm wearing are all set out (a Beckham shirt and pants made by a sponsor of his of course) and my pillows and blankets have been moved to my moms room. I can't help by feel stupid being worried about this minor procedure. Every time I start to think about it I remember my little superman Sam. He's been to the hospital more times in the past year than any 3 year old should. His procedures are always more risky than mine is going to be, but he just keeps on trekking. He'll always be my rock and my reminder that God works in mysterious ways, but He definitely will never give me anything I can't handle. So if I start to complain about only being able to use one hand I am going to remind myself that Sam had only one usable hand for quite a while. And I mean he only had one hand, no legs either. He was a trooper and he definitely kept his faith in God. So I can't complain about this. I'm going to be channeling his strength when I go in. Seems funny.... an 18 year old girl channeling the strength of a now 4 year old boy. But he'll be there with me.