Maggie had her exam and infusion today – the third of this clinical trial. She tolerated it well and is now resting in the Residence Inn near the clinic. We’ll return home in the morning – but not too early. I don’t believe we’ll set an alarm.

The typical order of events each visit is blood draw for labs, an exam by the doctor, and then the infusion, if all looks good. Today was no different. During visits with Dr. Saleh, the chief investigator for the trial, he’ll ask questions and I’ll voice any we might have. I had a small list today since we have to coordinate with UAB on Maggie’s ureteroscopy scheduled for next Tuesday at Hattiesburg Clinic. We settled the issue (we’ll have to delay by a few days), but I sensed an unnamed source of disquiet in my own mind. Maggie and I discussed the visit later, and I was surprised to find she felt it, too. We finally found the right label: homesick.

We miss Batson – the people, the ease of conversation, the bedrock certainty of our common goals – Maggie’s treatment and comfort. UAB is tremendous and we like the people and know we’ll grow to love them. We’re a tad awkward in navigating this new phase of cancer treatment. I’m looking for someone to step forward and coordinate (where are you, Dr. Collier?), and the arrow seems to land on me. Active treatment was, believe it or not, predicable and safe. The protocols were set in stone, offering a counterintuitive cushion of comfort.

A clinical trial is a different beast. Overhanging all medical concerns and inserting itself into unrelated health issues (kidney stones, in-grown toenails), we find its schedule surprisingly easy to keep while its boundaries are unfamiliar and its implications for the individual are somewhat unknown.

There is no place like home. We completely understand we can’t go back – to predictability, old routines, or familiar Batson friends. Maggie is tethered to the trial by hope. She is right where God wants her. But still, there is no place like home.

What do you do when you can’t go back? Home comes to you. We arrived today to find a gift for Maggie – a UAB sweatshirt in aqua blue from Jeff, the videographer shooting footage of Maggie’s infusion last visit. We met Dayle, my first contact at UAB when I phoned to find a trial. She’s the one who reassured me in our second conversation in the sweetest voice you can imagine, “We’re going to find a study for your baby.” She came in and hugged Maggie, telling her, “I’ve been wanting to meet you. We’re just going to keep praying.” And tonight, Maggie used her phone to search for close-by dinner options for takeout. She couldn’t hide her delight when she found a Babalu – yes, the same Babalu – two miles from our hotel. What a perfect way to feel close to our Jackson/Fondren people! And for dessert, we’re munching on Granny Gay’s world famous date nut bars.

We live each day achingly aware of our Homesickness. We’re in a place (this world) not intended to be our home, and we know it. For we are strangers before you and sojourners, as all our fathers were. Our days on the earth are like a shadow, and there is no abiding. I Chronicles 29:15. I’m thankful tonight God brought Home to us. I’m even more thankful He will, one day soon, take us Home. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. John 14:3.