Ramblings..drills...and more.

Continuing Willie's favourite pastimes...drills were possibly number 1 on his list above all other toys. Red drills, yellow battery operated drills, small drills, drills with interchangeable accessories. Willie loved them all...and would tuck them in the top of his jogging bottoms like a gun in its holster. Ready for action whenever and wherever.

Willie would drill anything, cupboards, toys, bits of wood, and his toy workbench. One of his
favourite characters was Bob the builder and often He would call Bob up on his imaginary phone to
have a chat builder to builder (well builder to carer at the time pretending to be Bob). Willie played like any child his age but used language that was worthy of adult conversation. Anyone allowed the privilege of using his drill would have to be shown how to use it properly and safely. He would explain what each drill bit did and what you could use it for. Drilling was to be taken seriously!

One of the highlights, just weeks before he got his wings, a family friend, Ryan helped him drill some holes in our brick gate post - with a real power drill...the beaming smile as he realised one of his dreams was captured on camera...for prosperity and a reminder of Willies ability to give joy to those around him. Ryan being a real builder was definitely on Willies list of favourite people...

As you can see in the photo, Willie's concentration is on the important job in hand. Amazingly Willie
still 'looked' at what he was doing although he couldn't see at this stage. This experience was just one of the many treats God Blessed him with...in those last weeks...but more of that later - I've just skipped a few years!


Willie also loved collecting all kinds of weird and wonderful objects in his pockets. It was quite incredible how much he could get in a jogging bottom pocket. Zoe favoured the jogging bottoms as they were comfortable and easy to get on/off. Willie didn't appreciate anything tight on his body...

He would bring out a small object, maybe a bit broken off a larger toy, a stone, iPod shuffle, small car, whatever treasure he found that morning around the house ...he would delight in showing it to you before tucking it safely away again.

I am sure there were banned  items smuggled into school on occasions...like his all time favourite...'the syringe' . Zoe had an abundance of these at home as they were used to administer his drugs 3 times a day. Willie loved them...they could  be used to fill with water to squirt..or just nice to hold and play with - quite therapeutic. So a child carrying a medical syringe round the playground - a little bit taboo! Rubber gloves...another odd favourite..well, perceived odd by the average child but for Willie all these items were part of his daily life. When in hospital I was very naughty and would grab a handful of gloves from the boxes on the wards for him to play with. Great for blowing up like a cows udder or just to scrunch up to put in his pocket.

They would be used in role play..."Gloves on Dr MacCauley..knife and fork ready? Check...ok let's get this brain open" luckily the teddy bear didn't come to any harm...but what was normal for Willie was a world apart from most children his age.

At school the local doctors son, who was in year 6, often did 'reception duty' at lunchtime. This is where the top year at the primary school played with the youngest children at lunchtime. It worked perfectly for Willie as he got on better with older children.  This amazing young man understood Willie very well. They played a game frequently where Willie would knock on the Wendy house door. 'The doctor (incredibly reminiscent of his father) would say "Come in".
Willie would walk in with a doll and give the doll to the talented junior doctor.
 "What's wrong with my baby?" He asked.
 "Mmm let me see" the stethoscope would be used from around his neck.
Willie would look on expectantly, with a solemn expression.
'The doctor'  would shake his head from side to side.
 "I'm very sorry Mr Foster-Horton there's only one thing I can do for your baby - chop it's head off"
Willie would guffaw with laughter, such a belly laugh rocking back and forward in the small Wendy house chair.

The junior doctor would giggle with him...and Willie would soon recover from his giggling, take the doll outside and knock on the door again. Willie loved to repeat things over and over if he really enjoyed them. I used to be very impressed by the doctors son with a huge heart, understanding and patience as he was happy to replay the 'doctor's surgery' game on a regular basis.

School was never Willies favourite place, as there were so many rules and regulations and an expectancy to learn. He never did learn how to read and write in the few years he was there...but the social side was important to him. He dwelled in the hearts of most of the school teachers, teaching assistants, staff, caretakers and the pupils. The pupils were brilliant at acknowledging him, always a smile and a hello..after he lost his sight they would add 'hi Willie..it's Hannah'.announcing themselves in the most natural way - ....which i found incredibly touching. Willie knew most of them by name - he did have an incredible memory for names, faces and facts..which was valuable after he went blind.

Willie knew most people by their voice, or I am convinced also by smell lol. I will enlighten you on that later. So school became a place to be endured for most of the day as the long suffering teaching assistants did their best to keep the peace. I mean this in the kindest sense..but it was no picnic trying to get him to engage in anything not involving a spade, mud, sand or water.

PE I remember being particularly painful in my short term of trying to be his teaching assistant. Zoe was very unsure about sending him to school as she worried that he may get hurt. By this time I was employed part time to help Zoe on a regular basis as proper care was £25 per hour minimum! I had been intending to work part time once Andrew was in full time education so the timing worked perfectly. I worked a couple of days a week...then the issue of school arose and it made sense that I would go into school as his one to one. Im not sure we even asked Mrs Plackett the headteacher at the time, or just announced it.

It had taken a few weeks for me to get my 'Willie on his own' badge. mainly obtained by kidnapping him whilst Zoe protested strongly.The first time I insisted (mainly to give her a rest), I promised to phone several times whilst out. As each time he came back safe and smiling I gradually increased the hours until I was full qualified and trusted. For those who knew me then and now, you like I, marvel at the fact I could keep him safe. I am not well known for my focus and yet with Willie it did become very natural.

There was one day i recall that went horribly wrong. Willie needed the toilet whilst we were sitting sharing a plate of chips in a cafe (taboo food eek) when he announced he needed a wee. Quickly. So I threw my bottle of water along with my phone in the pushchair hood. Placed Willie quickly in the pushchair, stuffed a handful of chips in my mouth to munch on the way and took off at my fastest pace through the shopping center to the public toilets. I knew I had a time limit of 1 minute 3 seconds to get there before it was too late. Fortunately it wasn't too far as i couldn't run that fast.

I went to the last cubicle in the row as I wanted to leave the pushchair with all our belongings as close as possible without it being in the way....no spacious mother and child toilets in those days...I grabbed Willie out of the pushchair pushed him into the toilet whilst practically pulling his sweat pants down at the same time. he shrieked as his head hit the hard plastic fold up child seat exactly at  his head height. B*****..yes that was my exact thought and I apologise to anyone who thinks I would never swear.

I tried to placate him before the initial shriek transformed into a wailing session - or worse..that he had caused damage to his head that would be catastrophic. I feared already having to confess to Zoe. There were never any secrets as Willie forgot nothing and would retell our adventures intricately to his mum on our return. I managed to keep him calm and there were no more tears. After he had relieved himself I lifted him back into the pushchair..watching him like a hawk..was he going into shock..it was a sudden bang to the head..was he turning blue..and as these investigations were going on I nonchantly grabbed his bottle of juice. It was in a babys bottle with the plastic top on. I didn't pay any attention to it as I held it over his head..not taking my eyes off him for a second..I took the lid off without noticing it had filled up with blackcurrant juice...I only realised as it cascaded all over his head and down his checked shirt and jogging bottoms in a wet sticky mess.

I held my breath...waiting for the inevitable reaction of hysterical crying...but nothing.. I looked him in the eye with the best 'I'm so sorry look' one can give under such circumstances. He looked up at me without one tear and said quite simply 'Oh F***'

That broke the moment and we both laughed like drains..me with complete and utter relief that he was neither unconscious or screaming..and Willie..because he did have a great sense of humour even when bruised and drenched. He never swore so it was a complete surprise he even knew the word and the context in which to use it.

I felt that I should pre-warn Zoe before I returned..give her a few minutes to absorb the information before I saw her...so once I had changed him into the spare clothes from his rucksack I reached for my phone. It had drowned. The waterproof hood meant there was a big pool of water - leaked from my water bottle. In my rush I hadn't screwed the lid on properly.

Thankfully that was my worst day out with him..and Zoe forgave me so I could continue journeying with my little buddy.

'Introducing Willie...

I thought it was about time you got to know Willie a little better...as it's his journey I'm taking you on...

Many of you reading this blog knew Willie and will have many 
fond memories...I encourage you to write your own memories in 
the comments for others to enjoy to.

I had forgotten just how many lives this little boy touched in his 
short time on this earth. Many of you have written comments on 
Facebook and I'm glad you are enjoying 'journeying' with me as we recall so many precious moments.

I have mused long and hard this week on how I can convey the 
complexity of a child that could act like the 3 year old he was when I first got to know him.. with the wisdom of a man far beyond his 
years.

For those who remember Willie...for those 'getting to know him' here for the first time..I will share some of my most poignant memories. And hopefully give you a real sense of what this little guy was about.

I realise as I was writing this first draft for this blog that each pastime Willie loved he loved so much it may warrant a whole blog for each subject! Because I don't want to leave it to long in between blogs and time is often lost in the busyness of daily life, I think I shall post each part separately. I hope it flows and makes sense.

The photo shows his cherub features and to look at him you would 
declare 'This boy is indeed an angel'. This cute exterior could have easily fooled any unsuspecting human to believe this was the case.
Having spent many hours being sprayed with freezing water from 
the garden hose..I would beg to differ!

This outward appearance hid a cheeky little monkey that giggled most when someone was getting wet either by hose or water pistol...or if you stood in front of his swing and he could kick you and make you fall backwards. He would delight in stomping on your nicely made sandcastle and howl with laughter if he managed to kick a ball in your face...yes Willie was a typical little boy. The difference was we would encourage him to do these naughty things because we loved to hear his giggles...and when he laughed it filled you with incredible joy. It was so good to see him enjoying life. 

Zoe couldn't bear Willie getting upset, and so if he wanted to spray 
you with the hose...you got sprayed..lots. It's very hard to say 'no' to your children when they are little...but how much harder it must be 
when they have a life threatening illness. 

Zoe was very worried about Willie banging his head, so we had to learn to follow closely - hands at the ready - to protect his skull if 
the need arose, it became quite an art - like a dance. So much energy was required running behind this little monkey, especially when he explored his favourite domain..'the garden'.

Whatever the weather, wellies on Willie loved to dig. And dig and dig some more. Muddy patches, sand pits..flower beds - digging and more digging..I'm surprised he never reached Australia. Their 
back garden was full of holes. Eventually at St Marks School they had a special digging area for willie to enjoy with the other children, and I believe it is now named after him.

Zoe endeavoured to take Rheanna and willie to a beach as often as she could manage - with her entourage of helpers. I will ask Zoe for some photos to post on here as I know she has many of happy times spent on sand and by the sea. A particularly poignant one of Willie using a banana as his imaginary phone. all curled up in his towel with a sunhat on...so cute.

Second to digging came swinging...for an hour at a 
time..Willie never tired of being pushed..the higher the better. The only reason he ever got out of the swing was because you would finally think of a better alternative..after offering several different 
options you would sometimes hit on one that appealed to him...and he would get out willingly. 

Fortunately his small frame fitted into the baby swings so there was no fear of him falling off. We would scour the parks in the Newbury area and in Oxford (when in hospital) for the swings with the longest chains.

Such excitement when we would discover a new park with big swings  - a gem to be revisited time and again. I can 
hear Willie huffing and puffing if a swing had been swung over the top of the frame several times in a tangled mess far outside of my reach. "Sue" he would say "those vandals should be put in 
prison..I'm going to put handcuffs on them and lock them up" usually there would still be a swing not vandalised for us to enjoy..but Willie would constantly refer to the vandals..he knew 
right from wrong and couldn't believe the big children could be so naughty.

Sunshine, wind or slight rain..we would run carefully hand in hand to the swings..or Willie would be in his pushchair laden with his latest favourite toy, some healthy snacks, a bottle of juice or milk...and 'the emergency bag'. I still have the emergency bag in a cupboard - Zoe or I couldn't bear to throw it away so it remains as was. Never more than a few metres from Willie wherever he went, in the bottom of the pushchair, in the car and eventually on a high shelf in the stockroom at school whilst he was in situ was the emergency bag..the last one a soft lunch box with a picture of a digger on it.

It contained an essential injection if he ever went into shock. His body did not automatically produce cortisol which protects you if your body goes into shock if in an accident or similar. The injection to be given instantly would save his life. Also his tablets required 3 times a day were in it that kept him going as his thyroid didn't work at all.  Also some hypostop if his blood sugar went low.

Thankfully we never needed to inject him, but as a precaution it 
was our constant companion. Woe betide me if I went out without it.

In the park Willie always headed for the swings first and stayed 
there until my arms were about to fall off from pushing or if there was a queue forming with other children asking about their turn and grumpy looking parents. As it was often the most relaxing form of entertainment and comfort to him I was reluctant to remove him too soon..also the screams on trying to extract him before time was also a strong deterrent for me.

If he was in a particularly vulnerable state, maybe after a big operation or if he had just had a few days of intolerable pain, the swinging would comfort him and make him smile...so I would pull the 'very sick child card'...and would shock the parents 
standing by..they would smile sheepishly and retreat to the slide or roundabout with their children in tow. Maybe it was a little selfish and incredibly mean..I realise this more now writing this eek...but..really you had to be there..or you are probably glad you were not.

God uses us all according to his Will and purpose, I know my characteristics from having Attention  Deficit Hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) were paramount on this journey as it was very suited to my ability to chop and change my plans at a moments notice. the downside to that is that I have no fear in saying things outright at the wrong time..oops. That was harder for God to control.

So many hours I recall in swings..lifting him so high towards me then counting down to 'launch'  letting him go - swinging to great heights pushing him higher and higher...he would be wrapped up in hat scarf and gloves in mid winter, and sunhat tshirt and factor 50 in summer. We would observe the world going by as he swung..making up horrendous crazy stories about people striding by...telling funny tales about bogeys and bad smells ...the park opposite the John Radcliffe was one of his favourites to chill in as it was opposite a huge building site.

We would look up to the immense cranes lifting the huge steel girders and concrete blocks for the new children's hospital..right over our heads..I was always concerned they might just come tumbling down. Willie assured me often we were safe. Building sites were on Willies top ten list and fairly close to the top. He would stand mesmerised or sit in his pushchair for hours watching silently..then ringing the builders on his imaginary phone.."der der der he would say for the dialling tone..Builderrr - that would be your prompt.."yes Willie?"
"Where are you going to put those concrete blocks?" 
"On that bald mans head"...you see Willie loved "ridiculous"...he had a good imagination and so it was easy to entertain him with crazy notions and preposterous ideas. I just loved that giggle!

One day when Willie was with his mum the 'ground controller' actually let him speak to the man in the crane several hundred foot in the air. This Willie never forgot. I have forgotten the crane drivers name but Willie never did..and I often had to replay that telephone conversation with him. That ground controller made his day and even his year by his generosity. Credit to Zoe to for being bold in her request. Willie never wanted much, he had no bucket list but was extremely contented watching the world go by...especially in the shape of cranes, bulldozers, drills, diggers and  electric generators...this boy had a huge command of the English language and remembered names of everything and everyone after the first time he was told. Incredible for a three year old.

Leading us to another love - sandpits..inside or out big or small. Toy diggers, spoons and water...the essential item for good clean yet messy fun. The hospitals were equipped with many a sandpit...and if there wasn't one in the immediate vicinity of the ward then we would have to go on an adventure of exploration to find one in another ward...we also found a rocking horse on our travels at the Radcliffe Infirmary.

No ordinary rocking horse..this one made a special 'phut' sound when rocking..so quickly got dubbed the f****ing horse. I know this is shocking..I'm confessing to the fact that yes we did call this poor horse by this unfortunate and very rude name. We even made up a rhyme to sing to it whilst Willie was on board.  I only recall baked beans being part of the chorus but little else now. He loved that horse and we would visit him often, for a fun and giggly ride.

The playrooms  at the hospitals varied but were all fully equipped with a huge variety of toys, games and paints etc. They also came complete with a trained play nurse. Becky was his favourite. She had an endearing way of persuading Willie to paint with potato prints. Willies attention span was all of 1.7 seconds...if you did not have him 'hooked' in that short space of time you would have lost him as he scuttled off to another better and more interesting activity. Becky along with the others had a natural gift for knowing exactly how to keep this bundle of energy amused for at least half an hour lol.

The new children's hospital at The John Radcliffe had the most inside/outside playroom with the mandatory sandpit. It's amazing how therapeutic that sand can be. Pouring, filling mixing..making. Even after Willie lost his sight completely, later on, he still enjoyed the different textures of sand depending on the quantity of water added. Right up to the very last few weeks this remained one of the most rewarding pastimes for Willie.

Thank God for sand! I thank God for many others things to but swings, mud, sand and building sites in particular today as I remember how important these were in Willies life. I also pay tribute to Rheanna, Zoe, relatives, au pairs, the staff at hospital and school and friends that spent many many hours indulging this wee son in his world of 'digging' and 'swinging'...

to be continued...

'What is normal?'

I have been pondering all day whether or not to deviate for a blog to share one of the many lessons I learnt on this journey. I have called the blog 'Willies journey of faith' - and Willies faith becomes increasingly evident as time passes. This journey we walked together also increased my own faith tenfold.

I would encourage any of you who feel nudged to step out of your comfort zone...for often it is in these 'unlikely' places that we can be truly Blessed. If we walk in our usual footsteps secure in what
and whom we know..we may miss out on insights that are truly breathtaking.

The craniofacial ward at the Radcliffe Infirmary aka Leopold Ward was a world like no other. It is a specialised ward for anything from a hare lip operation required to the most disfigured face you may
ever encounter. Thankfully the majority of us would never be aware of its existence because our children were born 'normal' . But what is indeed normal?

I'm not trying to open a can of worms or even give an opinion - political or otherwise...but witnessing
the abnormalities on these tiny infants, what struck me more than anything was the fact that without any doubt the parents loved these children...and definitely by the wistful look on their faces saw them as beyond beautiful.  Looking adoringly at them were young teenage mums cuddling their babies and
nurturing them, looking sad when they were going off for yet another operation, and sitting unmoving, watching intensely as their children returned to their beds/cots recovering with bandages wrapped round their small heads, feeding tubes up their noses. Unwavering dedication and pure love.


These were not the babies they had dreamed of giving birth to, they had not anticipated spending weeks or months on Leopold ward in Oxford..maybe miles and miles from home. But this was where
the top specialists hung out...incredibly gifted, talented and knowledgeable - recently I saw a programme on the Children's hospital at the John Radcliffe which replaced this hospital..with some of the surgeons that had operated on Willie.

For these parents it was a safe haven, the doctors and nurses were all outstanding in their humility, kindness and professionalism. I marvelled at both the inpatients and the staff. A world removed from
normal life but a world that made the very best of a very difficult situation. I salute anyone going through the pain of watching their children undergo sometimes extensive surgery and I salute the staff that make that experience the best it possibly can be.

There was a three year old girl in the bed opposite Willie on my very first visit. I will be honest - I kept looking, watching I couldn't help myself. I watched the parents motivating her, cuddling her, fussing around her, the love shining like a neon light, almost blinding.

Bella (this was not her real name as I do not feel it is respectful for me to write about anyone without permission) was an identical twin that had been born with her brain coming out of her skull. She had
undergone numerous operations since birth, including making a skull and giving her a forehead, making her a new nose as they had stretched her skin to the top of her scalp. Her scalp was large and protruding and her hairline started halfway back across her head. They had done the very best they could to model her face to be 'as normal' as it could be.

Bella was also limited in her movements and couldn't walk or talk and therefore was learning sign language. I'm ashamed to say I did stare again and again just trying to fathom what they had done, to
give this little girl a chance of a life to be enjoyed rather than endured. Her mum and dad were intent on making her feel loved and cherished and were doing an amazing job.

On one visit I was making a cup of tea in the parents kitchen,which was an incredibly small space. It
had a fridge, kettle, a few cupboards and a microwave. There was only room for a couple of people at a time. Bella's mum and dad were waiting by the door, her mum  holding Bella in her arms. I smiled and stepped outside whilst waiting for the kettle to boil.  Instead of going in they stopped for a chat...we had got acquainted in passing on the ward, and so chatted easily and comfortably.

As I stood there Bella put her arms out towards me, I looked questioningly at her mum to see if it was ok for me to take her. Her mum smiled reassuringly and so I took her gently into my arms. She was quite tall for a three year old but only slight so easy to hold. I was extra careful as I had no idea if she had any sensitive areas on her little frame. I smiled at her and she very gently reached her little hand
out and touched my hair with the greatest sensitivity I had ever felt from a child..or from anyone before - it was incredible....my heart melted instantly and her little face was transformed into incredible beauty. It was as if her beautiful heart was shining so brightly it lit up her whole being.

No wonder her parents had been looking at her with that adoring look, Bella was adorable. As I felt this overwhelming love for this gorgeous little girl I felt God really speak to my heart..."and this my
child is how I see you". Awesome. A moment in time captured in a critical illness hospital ward. A gem to be treasured forever. God sees us by our hearts, so if our hearts are full of beauty then we to are beautiful in His sight. A challenge to me there and then and a new found confidence. Never again would I worry about my appearance, my extra chins or spare tyres. It did not matter. This beautiful
child that I have deliberately nicknamed Bella had transformed my life in that one cuddle. Profound moment for me. I have often reflected on it...especially if I am concerned about my appearance at any time, I do remember that it's not important , what is important is to pray that my heart will be full of love, Gods love to share with others then they will see me as a God intended me to be...beautiful from the inside out.

Many years ago in our church there was a 7 year old brain damaged boy being passed along a line of people, mum,dad, brother, sister and back again. I remember seeing love like never before as they all
in turn cuddled and cherished young James. I remember thinking that we can learn so much by young people/anyone that is disabled mentally or physically because often the love surrounding them is so prominent and tangible you can see it almost in 3D. I have watched James grow up in body although his mind has remained the same and witnessed the amazing care and dedication by his awesome family. I often reflect on whether his brother and sister would have such a caring outlook on life if James had been normal. In fairness with their parents being so lovely I am sure they would have been. But I'm sure nurturing James gave them a bigger insight and empathy to those less fortunate than themselves.

So I go back to my original question...what is normal? Where is the line drawn, we can learn sooo much from such sad circumstance if we can accept everyone as 'normal' if we look deep into their
hearts we can find treasure beyond anything we have experienced before.

I'm not glad these babies are born this way, it is heartbreaking for the families, but I think we underestimate how much we can learn from them.

We had a stillborn baby boy 19 years ago with Edwards Syndrome, an extra chromosome 18...classified as incompatible with life. Our eldest son was five and second son three  at the time. They both came to say goodbye to their baby brother. I was a bit worried that they may be a bit frightened by his appearance as he did not look 'normal' . I needn't have been concerned as a few weeks later we were in the car waiting for a lady to put her baby boy in his car seat - so we could take her parking space. As we waited I said to Simon our eldest,  sitting in the front with me.."Aww..look son what a beautiful baby boy" ...to which he replied "Yes but not as beautiful as my Ben...no-one is as beautiful as him". Wow out of the mouth of babes.

I have no idea what happened to Bella, I only saw her once again, but I am certain she continued to Bless so many - as I know  James has, who is now 23 years old. I have no idea why or how these things happen, but I'm grateful that I trust in a God that does and who sees the bigger picture of which I am only a very small part.

'Happy birthday'

As I drove back to Newbury I reflected on the bravery shown by Zoe, David, and their Relatives. I could only feel a tiny percentage of the fear they must have had during the ten days since diagnosis and then the wait...the very long wait during the operation.

Now I'm a grandmother I can look back and start to appreciate Dee and Ian's agony to. Not only were
they deeply worried about their grandson but also worried about their son and Zoe and how they
would cope if anything bad happened.

Of course the wait didn't end there...it was a long night holding their breath - to see if Willie came round in the morning..the next 24 hours being critical...he could have a big brain bleed, and the
effects of that would be catastrophic.

Watching your tiny son covered in wires attached to bleeping machines waiting for him to open those big hazel eyes and show some recognition must have been frightening...thankfully they didn't have to wait too long..Willie had come through unscathed..quiet and subdued as he was full to the brim with
maximum pain killers...but smiling and talking, long before the expected recovery time. His speech was slightly affected and his right side slightly paralysed  but on the whole a remarkable outcome considering the invasive surgery deep into his brain.

Willie was soon back in Leopold ward entertaining the nurses, and endearing himself to anyone
passing by. The huge scar held together with a multitude of stitches was framed by the unshaven bit
of blond hair. This did not detract from his cuteness at all and the huge smile I got on arrival was enough to make anyone's day.

"Happy birthday Willie" I beamed at him and held his hand as he sat upright on his hospital bed. The
mischievous glint in his eye as he said "Sue..do you know..." As  he told me a story about one of the
nurses - confirmed that he had been hardly affected  by surgery. Willie had his favourite nurses
already and was keen to point them out to me. Cheryl being his all time favourite and Beccy his number one play nurse.

Happy and smiling he proudly blew out the 3 candles on his birthday cake.'Rara' his big sister there to
help him..I cannot remember the exact details of the day but I imagine there would have been a bit of
a tussle over the blowing out of candles and can almost hear his voice shouting 'Rara' don't you blow
out my candles!'

As much as Willie adored his big sister there were limits sometimes as to how much help was
required....

There was no doubt that Willie was exactly the same little boy mentally as before the operation..what
recovery he had made. It was apparent as the years passed that that was in Willies nature - to bounce right back and get back to his story telling and imaginary phone calls almost straight away.


An incredibly brave and amazing little boy..a walking miracle.

I thanked God for answered prayer that not only did Willie reach his 3rd birthday - but that he could
also see the candles to blow them out. There had been a huge risk that he may lose his sight
altogether. Praise God he hadn't.

Zoe spent most of her time by his bedside, sleeping on an uncomfortable camp bed throughout the
night right next to his bed. She only got respite when others whom she trusted were there to cover a 'shift'. There were very few on that list, mainly because Willie would get upset when Zoe wasn't
around..so clever distraction techniques were called for.

David covered some of those shifts but as we all know life stops for no-one and David had a job that he needed to keep up for fear of losing it and  the much needed income for the family. He spent many an hour on his mobile phone trying to manage his business back in Germany whilst at the same time
spending precious hours with his son.

Dee - Willies grandmother and Captain Poo as Willie called his grandad came often to take turns to
give Zoe a rest. I can't remember how long it took to get my name on that list, but I worked hard at
it...as it was a privileged position and one I strived to take. Willie had captured my heart and soul and I loved being with this gorgeous boy.

He had many visitors including his Aunty Fiona who was herself recovering from Chemotherapy
following a mastectomy - another brave and amazing lady...she used to visit on her motorbike clad in her leathers.

Willies memory was phenomenal and he knew every doctor by name and every nurse/play nurse after
only meeting them once. He also knew all the patients in his ward and their critical illness's to.


  It wasn't easy to keep him entertained as he didn't like being still for long, and had an incredibly short attention span, so a vivid imagination and playing along with his imaginary phone calls became the order of the day. You had to role play anyone from Cat Stevens to Bob the builder...at a moments
notice.

Books and TV were not high on his list, neither drawing or colouring. Playing with toy tools, his
Teddy's in the shape of various animals and the all time favourite - the whoopee cushion kept him
amused.

Any unsuspecting victim was the target of this noisy trick - rewarded by guffawing giggles from the blond cherub in the bed. When Willie found something funny his giggles were priceless.

Willie did enjoy music - immensely. Zoe had introduced him to many genres of music from before he was born...and he loved a huge variety of  artists. Zoe had many different cassettes full of songs
Willie knew word for word. He delighted in sharing them with me and tried to educate me in good
music. The music helped him to have rest times, gently being stroked on his hand by his mum he would lie still and drift off to sleep accompanied by Cat Stevens...singing 'Father,son' or another melody just perfect for going into a deep slumber. His other melodic hero was James Taylor and both
these artists were played over and over and over again...

One very poignant moment I remember one day Willie was listening to James Taylor...I scooped him up in my arms and started to waltz around the ward..."again, again..he shouted gleefully if I stopped..as I spun round and round I caught sight of Zoe watching wistfully from a chair...there was a
Look in eyes that broke my heart...I could see how much she wished she could dance carefree with Willie in her arms...but with her spine as it was that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. It struck me deeply how cruel life can be...and I started to wonder why God had placed Willie in this family with a disabled mum who appeared to have an estranged relationship with his dad and an incredibly lively sister...

When he was awake he was a bundle of wisdom, fun, and many demands..he knew exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it. He enjoyed  drinking his milk - but food was often a battle...he was a fussy eater. Zoe would have to go back to the parents room to prepare fish fingers how he liked them cooked or another one of the few dishes he would consume.Then she would spend a long time trying to encourage him to eat.

Willie was in hospital that first time for a month...but sadly it wouldn't be long before he returned.

'By the Grace of God go I'

How many times had I heard that expression in my Christian walk. That evening as Willie underwent invasive brain surgery I realised the enormity and truth of those words. I guess if I had no faith I wouldn't have been there, but it often strikes me at times of deep anxiety what do people do without God to trust in? Where do you turn? I am truly grateful that in my journey as a Christian God had
more than proved His existence to me during previous trials. I had already learnt to trust in His plan.
But when you are on the way to pray for a two year old to make it to his third birthday, surrounded by his mum and dad, close relatives and friends there is room for a little bit of 'arghhhhhhh ' to creep in.

Arriving at the hospital I was greeted downstairs by David, Zoe, Zoe's sister Helen, Willies grandparents on Davids side (sadly Zoe's mum was deceased and her dad too ill to travel) and some close friends that had come to support them through the anticipated ten hour operation. I suggested we went into the chapel in the hospital. I had already discovered this hidden treasure during the week. It wasn't a chapel rich in ornate features and stained glass windows but a fairly small rectangle room
plainly furnished with an altar one end, some pews and dusty bibles.

It was more what it represented...a haven of quietness and calm away from the hub-bub of the hospital. A place where you could be comfortable in praying aloud, bringing your heartfelt prayers
before Our Lord and Saviour.

We trooped inside, somberly and walked towards the altar. Holding hands I offered up prayers for their little boy, prayers that God would ensure the best possible outcome for Willie. Against all odds I prayed he would be unscathed by the operation - that Willie would emerge the same as he had been before he went under the anaesthetic. I prayed he would remain stable throughout the long operation and that The Lord would be with the gifted and talented surgeons as they worked on removing as much as the tumour as was physically possible...but as always ending with 'but Lord we trust in your ultimate will'.

As much as I did trust in His ultimate will for Willie, humanly speaking that was a tough call as I became acutely aware as the evening progressed that trusting in Gods Will was not going to be that
easy.

We left the chapel and I followed the small crowd to a wine bar round the corner. What do you do when your child is in surgery? To pass away one minute is excruciating ...to while away a few hours is almost unthinkable...can you concentrate enough to read, do you try and watch TV...talk with friends...this was before Facebook and access to internet so not even an eBay shopping spree to
distract you from the heart stopping thoughts of what might be happening in the operating theatre.

So for David, family and friends the wine bar to sustain them and to chat quietly was a good option.
Zoe dutifully followed although I sensed she would have rather been planted on a chair directly outside the operating theatre, silently, vigilantly waiting for any thread of news. This was obviously not allowed in the Radcliffe because I am very certain Zoe would have requested that very chair.

Sitting down at a long wooden table, rustic candlesticks, dimmed lighting and a menu to make you feel you were in the depths of France...I started to feel a little more relaxed and scanned for the tastiest choice.

Now I'm not sure whether the huge finger coming through the ceiling and pointing directly at me was a figment of my imagination (I'm sure there was a television advert at that time with a similar finger pointing at people) but certainly the voice I heard loud and clear in my heart I recognised. "You - you
are here to pray not eat!"

For those who know me well  you will understand how I might have felt having to leave behind an imminent meal, for those who do not know me at all - suffice to say it was a first for
me. To lay down the menu, ignoring all the tasty options and excusing myself from an impending feast...It had to be God that reminded me of my purpose there that night. I would not have left food for anyone else.

Walking back in the twilight, as time had moved on faster than you would have imagined, I stopped outside the main door of the Infirmary - next to the old brick built pond. I sat on the crumbling
wall...and watched the ants crawling through the grass and dusty soil beneath my feet. I felt overwhelmed with the burden of praying for this wee soul. I knew I wasn't alone as I had phoned a few friends to spread the word to pray without ceasing...which is what I should have been doing. I started to pray but realised the enormity of the situation was halting my prayers.

Instead of thinking of Willie I started to fear for myself! Selfish I know...but the realisation that should Willie not make it..all of those trusting in me to pray - might turn on me and focus their anger
and sadness at my inability to get it right. I know this May not make sense but I'm getting butterflies as I write this remembering the weight of responsibility as the main Christian called in for the job. Ouch. My prayers rapidly became selfish.."Please God I'm pleading with you don't let him die" - gone was my trust in God's will but replaced with an overriding fear of facing Zoe and David if their
son did not make it til tomorrow.

I felt uneasy, sad and scared...and I couldn't pray anymore. I took my small bible out of my bag and
turned randomly to the New Testament. I was reading from Matthew..."and they were healed"...next chapter..and "he was healed"..flicked over a couple of pages ..."and they were healed"..everything I read reminded me that Jesus can heal...it felt like God was showing me his word to encourage me. It was a Hallelujah moment, my faith restored to normal level and beyond and I continued praying fervently and with increased faith that Willie was going to be ok..I was no longer afraid...and I recalled those words - By the Grace of God go I...and now By the Grace of God I can stay and be strong 'In Him'.

The 'party' returned and I followed them into the hospital..along the long corridors and up into the small waiting room for parents - adjacent to the ward. It was small, just a few low synthetic padded chairs (I found comfortable with my short legs but not sure about the others), piles of magazines, a few books and I think a small tv.

Sitting amongst strangers, and some new friends of only a week old...waiting for a surgeon to arrive
is not your first choice of a place to be. Wanting time to fly past but fearing an early appearance from the surgeon ( indicating possible bad news) felt quite surreal. Luckily I am blessed with an ability to talk anytime any place any where...and I did. Lots...can't remember about what but we all bonded in that small room..finding out about each other, laughing and giggling...crying and weeping..hugging
and encouraging.  The hours slipped past helped by numerous coffees and some biscuits.

The moment came.

I recall my heart stopped beating as David McCauley popped his head round the door. The room fell silent...."Willies fine" ..'boom' I could feel my blood rushing back into my heart..and tears ran down my face..relief, gratitude to God...a heightened awareness of Jesus by my side, by Willies side.

Zoe and David invited me to join them in David McCauleys office. I felt honoured. Dr McCauley relayed the whole operation in layman terms..the words that stood out most above all others were the
words "Willie remained stable throughout the entire operation"

My Faith took another dive to an even greater depth...10 hours of open brain surgery and he remained stable in its entirety...and they had managed to remove a good fifty percent of the tumour which was more than they had anticipated before they began. The peace that passed through me that night
continued throughout Willies journey as I knew God was indeed on his case.

Willie had been transferred to John Radcliffe intensive care unit where Zoe and David could visit him in the morning...I got back in the car and headed south to Newbury...Praising God all the way home.

Yes..no..yes..no...yes.....no..YES!

Looking back to that first week, it's a blur of activity and a roller coaster of emotion. Willie had a brain tumour the size of a quater pounder about eye level - the average craniopharyngioma was the size of a pea. The nature of these tumours is to produce cysts that randomly appear in any part of the brain causing indescribable pain, sickness and in Willies case his vessels to his eyes were being squished to the point he was losing his eye sight. 

I got the distinct feeling that the talented and experienced surgeons were baffled not only by the discovery of such a huge and complex tumour but the fact Willie was still alive
With it in situ.


Zoe had constantly taken her ever screaming son to the local surgery and when she arrived worried - traumatised by the constant sudden shrieking as if he was in intolerable pain - the screaming stopped and the local GP was greeted by that most wonderful of angelic smiles. Zoe would leave feeling she had been labelled yet again with 'neurotic mother' on his records.

It was when finally the tumour caused him to go limp and vomit incessantly that she took him to accident and emergency in Reading. They had been on holiday when it happened. By the time they reached the hospital Willie had bounced back a little and was a bit more perky. Zoe refused to take him home - her instinct all along had been of an underlying cause - a scary one at that - and this time was going to play the 'neurotic mother' card and insisted they checked him over more thoroughly - the doctor was trying to reassure her and send her home when the sweet smiling Willie vomited all over his office. 

Apparently that's how you get an MRI scan! Zoe said they were gone for a while and on their return showed Zoe and David into a small room with a couple of comfortable chairs a small coffee table ...and a box of tissues.

As a mother there was a double whammy to this indescribable news...a devastating pain that must have ripped through her whole body - but a relief that at last she was relabelled From  neurotic to ? What do you call a mum that has just received the












devastating blow that her beautiful son has a huge brain tumour? I believe a sense of 
relief that finally someone believed her that her son was critically ill and shock, fear and 
sadness that her son was critically ill.

They had transferred him directly to the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford where leading experts in this field resided. Dr David McAuley headed up the team immediately assigned to this phenomenal case. It was decided they would open his skull and go into the brain treading incredibly carefully and teeny bit by teeny bit remove as much of the tumour as was physically possible without any unnecessary damage or death. It was a mammoth and intricate job for any talented surgeon and I know David and Zoe will be eternally grateful for the expertise and optimism of David McAuley and his incredible team. 

I guess they thought if Willie could survive such a huge tumour and still say hello with the smile of an angel then he deserved every chance of life - and they were ready to do everything in their knowledge and power to make that happen. 

It was 2 weeks before Willies 3rd birthday and I remember praying that not only would Willie survive the imminent operation but that he would sit up and see his 3 candles on his birthday cake and be able to blow them out.

The week was a long one for his parents and family...in the morning the eight hour starve the boy - only water to be given..orders were issued so they could operate later that day...how hard was that for any 2 year old - how do you explain that one away? Willie didn't like the constant attention and blood tests etc necessary - they tried to put the cream on his hand ready for the general anaesthetic but that alone made him scream incessantly - he was aware something worse was coming and fought the nurses all the way.

Zoe impressed me so much with her calmness and quiet determination to make this as easy as she could for her son. I never saw an ounce of self pity, it was never about her as a mum in agony but always and forever it was about Willie. Her resolve from day one was to ensure he enjoyed every possible minute that he was here on earth and I believe she achieved that during his first visit to Oxford and right up to when he got his wings. A mothers dedication goes beyond the anxiety and fear of what might be..and focuses on the 'now' ...today...what can she do this moment to make her precious child as happy as he can be within the constraints and limits of a serious life threatening illness.

After a few hours of starvation they would come and deliver the news that the intensive care bed had gone to an emergency case. Willie would be transferred to ICU at John Radcliffe main hospital immediately post operation. So when the bed was taken the op was cancelled immediately. It was a devastating blow..building yourself up for the awful moment of saying goodbye to then having to wait indefinitely for another time to restarve your child and wait again...and again...and again. Each day it was planned and then cancelled.

It was a surreal time for me..getting acquainted with the family - meeting grandparents aunties and friends. Zoe was the mainstay at the hospital never leaving Willies side - there were parent quarters where she would sleep and eat food she had bought in when David was there to take over. It was hard as David had been away in Germany frequently so Willie was inevitably closer to his mum and just wanted Zoe. But Zoe had to be persuaded to go and recharge her batteries ready for the next shift.

David paced up and down not knowing what to do with himself - Zoe sat and played with Willie...the visitors coming and chatting to him, reading books and playing with 'power tools - Bob the builder' style. They had an excellent playroom equipped with loads of toys and activities...and wonderful 'play nurses' that Willie adored as they to adored him.

When the operation had been cancelled David, his mum and stepdad went out to lunch and invited me...Zoe reluctantly agreed to come out for some fresh air so wrapping Willie up and putting him in a pushchair we all trooped off into Oxford City centre. 

When you go into a situation as big as this on a God's behalf you have to have a team praying on your behalf back home. Mainly because you are busy doing you can't pray enough yourself and also to cover me in prayer to act sensitively at all times ( those who know me well will realise how important these prayers were) . So there were my friends back in Newbury worrying and praying and there I was in Oxford in a lovely wine bar eating mussels in white wine and sipping a diet coke. Mmm as I said ..surreal!

It was a bonding time however and different people react differently and have various coping mechanisms...I always eat when under stress and thankfully so did Willies grandparents...slightly posher food than I usually de-stress with however. 

Zoe wasn't as keen, but sadly didn't have too much of a choice as I discovered over that week how restricted Zoe was in caring for her children. A genetic crumbling spine condition had led to metal poles and bolts being attached to her spine just a couple of years before..that and a frozen shoulder from a nasty car accident prevented Zoe lifting Willie and pushing his pushchair. 

Looking at Zoe you wouldn't imagine there was anything wrong. She stands tall and is attractively slim with long brown wavy hair. A lady that lives on organic food, lots of fresh air and exercise by walking uphills she should be bouncing around a healthy shining example of good substantial living...sadly Zoe is far from the picture she portrays - suffering from sciatica that sometimes prevents her from walking at all, pain on lifting even the slightest weight, cannot bend over, cannot twist and turn, suffers constant migraines, irritable bowel syndrome (sorry Zoe if this is too much detail!) and much more nagging pain throughout her body. 

Therefore she was unable to look after Willie alone and had an au pair since her operation on her back. In hospital she was reliant on the nurses and visitors when David wasn't on hand. How hard that was for her..I realised that more and more as I journeyed with her over the next few years. A yearning to be the best mother she could be but having to rely on extra hands to help her achieve her aim. So sad, especially when all you want to do is pick up you son and give him a cuddle.

Saturday arrived and again they starved this poor wee boy in the hope the operation would be carried out... Rheanna his lively big sister had arrived to visit Willlie and cheer him up. 'RaRa' as he called her was his second favourite person over his mum..and dad of course. He idolised her and I could see why...a beautiful 6 year old with an energy that oozed out if her ..jumping bouncing chatting running looking grabbing playing ...giggling...he loved it the most when she sat quietly beside him - telling him a funny story and giggling. He would get upset when she jumped off the bed to investigate something interesting on the other side of the ward...leaving him to wonder when she would return. Rheanna was a very busy bee. Everyone loved her and she exhausted us all lol.

Rheanna had the same big hazel eyes Willie had, with long wavy light brown shiny hair. Quite tall for her age and not an ounce if fat on her...due I suspected from being a whirlwind and not staying still for more than a minute. Unless she was drawing or painting then you might stretch that to 5 minutes.

This Saturday I offered to take the 'bounce' out to Oxford for lunch..and so we skipped off hand in hand (yes..I try to be whatever I'm needed to be and if skipping is essential then skipping it is!) I think we probably skipped to just outside the ward before I collapsed in an unhealthy heap and suggested a more sedate walk to the city centre. My latest diet crashed again in the form of a McDonalds...this was before I realised McDonalds was not on the list of eating places approved by Zoe..eek! I had much to learn.

On returning to the hospital with a slightly tired out little girl we heard the operation had been cancelled yet again :( ...how much more can parents take I bemused..but sad that so many emergency beds needed also. I heard myself volunteering to take Rheanna home to stay the night before my brain connected. Rheanna hardly knew me - let alone Pete and our 4 sons? Overnight? Of course she wouldn't want to go home with me..what was I thinking?

Rheanna was jumping up and down with apparent joy and was packing her back pack with necessities from the ward as I came to my senses..Zoe had resigned herself to letting her daughter go as she had no energy left to argue and definitely no energy left to entertain her for the next few hours.

Again it was a poignant moment for me watching a mother be divided between the needs of her two children where circumstances were overriding any maternal instincts. 
We said goodbye to everyone..including the nurses, play nurses and other patients...Willie was upset we were going..he wanted to come to..so I think we pretended to be going to school to make the parting easier.

I arrived home late Saturday afternoon quite weary from a week of long emotional and prayerful hours ready for some recharging of my batteries. Selfishly I was glad to land at home into normality and spend some much needed time with my ever patient and loving husband and our four boys..I had missed them all...and now along with our new surrogate daughter.

The phone rang - it was five o'clock. I was preparing tea for everyone.

"They are going to do it..now..Willies on his way down to the operating theatre..." David cried. "Please, please can you come back and pray"

I'm not sure if it was the expression on Pete's face at the thought of putting a 6 year old girl to bed - as I left - or the daunting and overwhelming task of going to pray for a beautiful little boy that had stolen my heart within a week - as he underwent a life threatening operation - that made my stomach churn over and over...and over..

Chapter 3 - 'The moment'

I don't know why - maybe it was the blond curls cascading around his cherub features, maybe it was his infectious giggle, or his beautiful big smiling eyes...or his cheeky smile? but I connected instantly - Saying hi to this tiny little man in a big hospital bed was 'the moment' Willie Foster-Horton sucked me into his world - Willies world. For all of you who knew this gorgeous young man - you will know exactly what I mean.

There were no half measures with Willie - you were either 'in' or 'out' lol! Willie lived in a world full of giggles, tractors, tools, poo, bogeys and very bad smells. On reflection I suppose I shouldn't be proud that I so easily slipped into this 'fun' bubble. How easily I found myself talking on a level usually reserved for young boys or maybe teenagers....but the reward of that incredible giggle was enough to encourage me to explore this zone further and to learn quickly the rules within.

Zoe and David stood by as Willie and I got acquainted and our friendship began - I got introduced to Tiger and was allowed to hold him for a short while..an honour not given to many - little did I realise then the depth and breadth that friendship would take me...and live within my heart for an eternity. I had no idea that this cute little boy two weeks off his 3rd birthday would become my best buddy. But he did...

After a while of fun and giggles I remembered why I was there - Zoe, David and Willie had made me feel so welcome time had sped by...there was no awkwardness at all. I chatted to Zoe about the tumour - Willie proudly announced that he had a craniopharyngioma  - I was shocked that he could say it so eloquently and that he remembered it! I was right in thinking it would take me 6 months for me to say it without asking Willie.

He also informed me that his little friend in the bed opposite had a hypothalamic tumour. Incredible for such a young child to possess such command of the medical dictionary. He put me to shame.

I took Zoe's hand and prompted her to take David's and we joined hands with Willie in a circle. I prayed simply to a God that was bigger than any of us - a God who knew our hearts and our requests before we voiced them - A God that was already present in that hospital ward and who never left our side throughout and beyond the journey we began that day, I had no idea what Willies anxious parents were thinking but I had a deep sense that I was fast becoming a link to an anchor they neither knew or understood but somehow trusted that I trusted it was there. An anchor that was definitely going to be needed in the impending overwhelming storm on the horizon..the planned life saving operation..

Off to pray

Putting the phone down - the enormity of the situation swept over me - now what? Firstly to organise my sons - We have four and at the time they were aged from 14 down to 4 - and from memory (sadly not that good a memory now I'm 51) they were quite a rabble - mostly!

To have left the 14 year old in charge would have been as useful as asking Andrew the 4 year old to take care of his brothers. Simon the eldest confessed in his best mans speech to his brother Tom that he was the worlds leader in teasing techniques.

I will be honest I cannot remember what I did with them but I am certain either my ever patient and understanding husband must have come home from work early or some of my dear and willing friends took them in.

God calls...you go! By His amazing and infinite Grace life gets sorted around the request. The Lord has never let me down to date and I trust He never will. That's probably why I cannot recollect what happened as all I do remember is journeying north up the A34 hospital bound.

Praying on the way I pleaded with Jesus to go before me, with me and in me, I have wondered over the years why He asks me to go - it's such a huge privilege - and an honour - but I have to go in a His strength and by His Grace.

I parked the car and found my way round the maze of long corridors - The Radcliffe Infirmary was an old building - it is no longer there today - so some areas felt cold, antiquated and dark - then you would pass through an area undergone 'modernisation' which was usually a bright notice board or a new swing door.

The lift was small with a pull over door and very creaky - I remember thinking stairs would be a less claustrophobic option - might even get fit.

Entering Leopold ward I was greeted my a smiley lady also called Sue - who directed me to Willies bed. I don't know how people work without faith ...I had no idea what I was about to encounter..but I was confident that God did. And so I walked into the small ward of 4 beds smiling as compassionately as I could...stomach just a little 'churny' - I recognised Zoe instantly and I think I did give her a hug...what words are there?

I shook hands with David Willies dad and said hi to Willie

Chapter 1 

'...and so ever since then I have never looked back' I trailed off as I sensed that familiar overwhelming realization that I had downloaded my testimony in full - without pause or taking a breath. As I looked shamefully at her glazed over eyes and noticed her body language was telling me she had wanted to retreat more than 15 minutes ago ..I smiled sheepishly and excused myself to go and break up the fight between my two sons.

Why oh why God do I do it over and over again.. Since becoming a Christian at 25 in an almost 'road to Damascus conversion' I had endlessly and enthusiastically enlightened any unsuspecting passerby. I had calmed it down over the years and tried to only testify when I felt The Lord prompt me.

Maybe on this occasion I had misheard Him. I truly thought He had wanted me to invite Zoe to our impending Alpha Course. I had started off fairly slow.."your au pair said your partner is away in Germany most of the time and felt it gets a bit lonely for you."

"...The alpha is a non threatening informal course that introduces you to Christianity whilst making friends eating a scrumptious meal (well optimism prevails here) and watching a funny video" - really thought I was selling it well ...Zoe politely declined on the grounds that her 2 year old son screamed incessantly for no apparent reason for hours then stopped as abruptly as he started. For this reason she felt unable to leave him with a sitter. 

Why I then gave her a verbal tirade of what my faith meant to me and how I had became a Christian is a mystery. I'm certain she never asked and by the shocked expression on her face I'm sure she would not be enquiring about anything from me at all in the near future.

I skulked off hoping that no-one else had overheard my enthusiastic 'God is awesome' testimony..wondering why do I allow myself to go off at a tangent - in the playground of all places - at home time - to someone I had only said hi to a couple of times.

Once the word was out I imagine I would be blacklisted among the parents and most would avoid me if I as much as smiled in their direction. I was envious of the new lady vicar who was the same age as me but looked 10 years younger - who everyone expected to do the God talk - I considered buying one of those 'dog collars' or wearing one of Pete, my husbands, shirts back to front. At least then people would not be as shocked with my Jesus outpourings - it would be expected.

I had gotten over it by pretending it wasn't as bad as I had first thought and dismissed it from my brain.

A few weeks later I had a phone call out of the blue...

"Hi it's Zoe with Willie and  Rheanna from st Marks..Astrid my au pair gave me your number. I'm at The Radcliffe infirmary at Oxford - Willies been diagnosed with a brain tumour..and I don't believe there is a God, but I know you do...so if there is one could you pray to Him for me please."

That was 5/6/2003 the day after Zoe's birthday. 

I have reflected since that had my reply been any different I would have missed out on what transpired to be one of the most incredible and inspiring journeys I had ever taken. I replied...

"That's awful I"m so sorry - Yes of course...would you like me to come up to Oxford and pray with you?" 

Willie Foster-Horton born 18 June in the Millenium - no man or woman could have known the impact of this precious life and how short that life would be. sometimes it's a good thing that we have no idea. 

The first photos of Willie show his cherub potential - a very cute little baby with a mop of blond hair covering his head and beautiful hazel eyes and the most angelic mouth. I didn't  know this little man then.

I first knew he existed when I bumped into his mum and sister one spring day at the park after school. The bubbly little girl was in a summers dress identifying her as going to the same village school as my sons. Brown wavy hair, an infectious smile and a buzz of energy propelling her up the steps and down the slide  - over and over - her mum sitting perched on the very end of the steel slide, more to rest than to catch her cherished daughter. 

The look she gave whilst watching was that of a weary mother - both proud and exhausted - and this was only minutes after school ended. I found out soon enough why... 

As my two sons ran, jumped, swung and teased each other 

I wandered closer to say hello. The little girl chatted happily to me whilst her mother sighed and said 'Oh hi - this is Rheanna...'

It's 3/1/2014 Rheanna is in my lounge staying over for a few days. Not quite as cute but stunningly beautiful and far more chilled than all those years ago - she is curled up on the armchair ...taller than me now - she's grown up into an amazing young lady, clever polite and caring. She still retains an element of fun...her hair still light brown but longer -cascading down over her shoulders. 

Looking at her today knowing how strong she is... No outward signs of what she has been through in her 17 years. Willie you couldn't be more proud of your big sister than I am. I have promised for too long to write your story little buddy. I know it needs to be told - to encourage others in a similar situation - to bring hope into shattered lives - to keep my promise to Rheanna - who doesn't want to forget - but as she was so young, cannot remember it all. 

The five years I walked with you Willie were the most profound of my life - your faith in God taught me more 

Than I Would ever learn In a lifetime. I want to share your faith with the world Willie Foster Horton - I just hope I can give it justice - I hope I can tell it exactly as it was. For you and for Rheanna. 

Goodnight my little angel sleep tight x