Searching for Rainbows (December Moment)

Dec. 13, 8:00 p.m.
The darkness of a winter night is closing in.  Clara and I sit at the dining room table working on her home work. Over on the living room sofa, Henry and his girlfriend sit close, heads bowed together, giggling over something on one of their iphones.  I hear the sound of the dog gnawing on a bone - chewing, always chewing, that one. The lights on the Christmas tree blink on and off. I get up to make myself a cup of tea. It should be an idyllic scene, but something's not quite right. Because tonight, once again, I'm acting as a single parent.  I'm weary, but holding it together.
Suddenly, I hear a voice. His voice. Chatting with Clara. I realize that she has dialed him up in the hospital on "Face Time." Clara chats with her daddy and then hands the phone to me so I can show him the microwave we bought this afternoon. Then off to Henry, so the two of them can talk about his day.
Paul's back in the hospital.  Again. It turns out that none of his siblings is a bone marrow match and can be a donor for the transplant that the doctors would like to do.  They expect it will be a few months before they can locate a donor and perform a transplant. So, the doctors decided that he "might as well" finish the last two rounds of chemotherapy.  After we already had an "end of chemo" party. Sigh.
Yes, we've hit a bump in the road.  We all went into a bit of a funk yesterday, but now I hear Clara chatting animatedly and I am thankful that she and Paul hatched a plan to connect with Face Time.  She patiently showed her daddy how to install it on his phone and then how to use it.  It's a nice break in the day, a beacon of hope, just like the rainbow I saw this morning during a break in the rain. Yes, we've hit a bump in the road, but we will continue to search for rainbows. And donors.
Edited to add: I wrote this moment last week. Paul came home late Saturday evening, and, if everything goes well, he should be home for the holidays. Please don't be sad when you read this moment. It is just life at a certain moment in time. We're disappointed, but we remain guardedly optimistic for a good long term outcome. As always, I appreciate your prayers and believe strongly in their power.
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The recording of this "Simple Moment" is inspired by Alexa of Trimming the Sails. To see other December moments, click on this link.