Tonight was spent searching. Searching back over ramblings from this medically intense journey, re-reading lessons learned along the way. Stories from past seasons jog memories, and rather than linger, I kick against the goads. Another diagnosis has been added and I am already stretched thin. I know that each new diagnosis must be grieved, worked through, but I'd rather be where I was, in a place of schedules and simpler uncertainties. I've come so far, still I have much to learn and live out.
Again I am caught in a cross-fire of medical chaos. Unanticipated? Not really. Unaccepted? For sure. No parent wants to watch their child suffer. A mother's heart is pierced by her child's pain. Pieces of me cleaved and torn again, old fears resurfacing along the way. For years I've spent my days carefully guarding a sometimes fragile life- a multitude of moments seeking to accept that it is God who sustains breath, while I am stretched to find balance in the roles of caregiver, teacher, nurturer. A new label has me asking, "Have I done this well?" Not perfectly, for my flaws are gaping still- but well? Some days, yes. Other days I am a mess and must simply trust in God to fill in the gaps in my mothering.
Years ago, I wrote of New Beginnings:
I am finding that faithfulness is a
choice. It does not happen by chance. I have been stretched; this
choosing has not "come naturally". It has taken a great deal of effort
to concentrate on keeping the commitment, especially when I have little
energy left. Sometimes I have to grit my teeth and push myself to step
into Him. I am finding that as I shake off the slumber, even when I am
dead tired, my soul is alive in Him. I am learning to make a conscious
effort step away from the things that He is calling me out of, and
instead make the choice to advance into Him. To go deeper still.
I am struggling to return to the habit of exercise. In past seasons I've found release and much relief in movement. Yet now I am tired, worn- physically as well as emotionally. Again I find I must fight off lethargy, shake out of the bleariness of
soul and body. I do not want to get up.
I want to recover. I want to find respite in old comforts, take my mind off the fears and the stressors and simply enjoy shopping for Christmas ornaments or indulging in a delicious delicacy. I've been fighting this battle for so long and I just want a little luxuriating a long the way. In my heart of hearts I know that ribbons and treats are passing pleasures which offer only temporary contentment. Still, I find myself climbing up to the altar while looking for a ram caught in the thicket; I want a way out. I want simplicity to return to this jagged life- I want wellness and wholeness and relief from the struggles that consume my schedule and my energy.
As my lack of control comes to light, fear rises. I am propelled forward, each step permeated by a numb distress. I press on, uncertain of the outcome. Prayerful in one moment, resisting in another. Longing to be cradled, yet too worn to climb into a tangible embrace.
I know God is with me, yet struggle to hear the soothing Voice- a whisper threading through sadness and yet another loss. Unknowns are daunting, new treatments bring uncertainty. Again I have a choice. Will I struggle through alone, or allow Love to draw near?
Years ago, I reconciled: it is
very important be obedient so that I can be drawn deeper into Him. So I
get up and propel myself into my prayer closet... On the floor, kneeling before the space heater, draped in a
Snuggie, the Lord and I meet.
Now, in this season, I have another opportunity to surrender and draw near. I am so tired. I don't know how to get to the place where I am no longer afraid to lose my son.
Again it is time to fight for wellness, to propel myself into the only TRUE safe place- God's heart, holding me in the midst of pain, sorrow, even grief and fear. I grasp the truth that He IS the gift in the suffering. I cannot know the future, nor can I control the present. Yet I do know the only One who is Comforter and provider for me- and my precious son as well.