"Don"t you know?  There will never be a cure!" my teenage daughter screamed from the backseat of the car.

I steadied my hands on the steering wheel while Jenna continued to rant and rave.  I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.  Not finding a single word that could or would change the situation, I remained quiet and tears stung my eyes.  God, you"ve got to help the scientists find a cure soon.  My daughter is losing all hope.

"It"s just too hard!  I"m tired of feeling sick!  I"m tired of being tired!  I"m sick and tired of being sick and tired!" Jenna sobbed from behind.  "Mom, I just don"t think I can do it anymore..." she said as her voiced faded off into silence.

Jenna"s words cut deep, for I knew that without hope, her heart would break.  Wishing that this conversation wasn"t occurring on a freeway, I fought traffic and slowly made my way to the off-ramp, checking my rearview mirror only to see the penetrating look in Jenna"s eyes as she stared back at me.  The unnerving silence was only interrupted by the sound of my turn signal.

It had been twelve years since Jenna truly "felt good."  And for twelve years she had lived courageously, fighting her chronic disease.  I understood her feelings of defeat.  I too was tired of daily watching my daughter tend to her catheter site, injecting herself with the proper medications, and experiencing the unpredictable side effects.  I, too, wanted to join her in screaming, "I"m sick and tired of you being sick and tired!"

Watching her in such emotional and physical pain made me ache all over.  If only I could take her illness upon me, I"d give her my health and bear her infirmity.  But I felt helpless not knowing how to console her.

I pulled into the first parking lot I could find.  I parked the car, stepped out and then crawled into the backseat where Jenna lay motionless.  I brushed her hair from her eyes hoping she"d open them and look into mine.  She didn"t move.  For five minutes or more, I just sat and held her, praying that God would renew her strength and will to live.

What does a mother say to her child who is living a nightmare, praying that she"d someday soon wake up and it would be over?  What words could bring comfort when all hope is lost?

Not knowing the answers, I spoke from my heart, hoping to reach Jenna"s.  "Jenna, I need you to look at me.  I need to know that you really understand what I am about to say."

She turned her head towards me and opened her eyes.  Immediately she began to repeat her words of hopelessness.  Gently, I placed my finger against her lips.

"Honey, today you"re tired and you"ve lost all hope.  Today, you can rest in my arms and let me hope for you.  You can be assured that my hope is endless and so is my love..."

"Mom," Jenna interrupted me, smiling slightly.  "If you can hope for me, I guess I can too."  She draped her arms around me.  "Tell me again, Mom, that your hope is forever."

"It"s forever, baby.  My hope is forever."