Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Cradled

Fear. It does not always come in the darkness of night. Sometimes it arrives in the early morning, when I wake to the weak voice of my son, who has type one diabetes, whispering in my ear, "Mom, I feel sick."  He bolts to my bathroom and I run, too, to try to comfort, hoping my presence is enough, while I wrestle with helplessness- and fear.

Once he is back in bed, miserable, aching, I can't get still. The jolt from sleeping to wild wakefulness leaves my heart racing. Flip flops pound across tile, hands sweep through the medicine cabinet for something, anything to help him. Within the hour, blood glucose has been checked, fresh insulin given, a new "set" for the insulin pump has been attached to his body.  The on call doctor has advised, and nausea medicine has been administrated. Everything medically necessary has been done. But another hour wait until the next blood glucose check leaves me gaping. If I sit with him, I will only keep him awake. So I train a watchful eye on the hallway, and wait for the next round.

He is up again soon, wretching. I run to him, again. I wish I could do more. I wish I could take this burden from him. So I stand close and rub his back, and wrestle. This is why I keep a change of clothes in the car for my son and myself. I try to be prepared. We have a bag packed with medical supplies that goes with us everywhere. I keep what is not practical for "the diabetes bag" (like pajamas and clean underwear in case of a sudden trip to the hospital) in the minivan. But try as I might, I can not anticipate everything. It's wise to be prepared, but sometimes the back up plan is a good start- yet not near enough.

 Tweaking, analyzing, and re-planning are good, even necessary- but can not guarantee there won't be rough patches. Sometimes, I do the best in can in the moment, and process later. It's in moments like these when I am reminded not to underestimate grace. For others, yes. But for myself too. Even now, when I do my best, but my son still suffers, grace is for me, too.

Grace is that loving Voice assuring, "You did the best you could, now give the rest to me."

So I close the cabinets, and place my hands on the counter top, to steady. I breathe, and pray. In... out... In, and out again. Prayer breaths in- "Jesus", I speak the name, and breathe out, saying aloud: "Lord", my assurance. In: "God", out: "healer", In: "Spirit", out: "Comforter." In: "rest", out: " release." Hands out, I find the altar, and place my son, and my own heart, in the place where we are safe. For I know this truth: sometimes God holds us in his hands, but always, he holds us in his heart. So here, now, in this moment, I nestle in, and find myself- and my precious boy- cradled in the arms of the One who loves us best.

~Just Me


 

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