Well, I started bawling in the car as I pulled into the
garage this morning after bringing Ades to school, so I figured it was maybe
time to internally process a bit.
It was surely affected by the terrible night of sleep last
night and my exhaustion – James had a rough night with what sounds like what I
imagine croup must be – and I am not operating at 100%.
And it was also influenced by the Christmas music I was
listening to and the yearning for Hope.
The fears and tragedies in our country coming home with me as I try to
think and feel and imagine what others are going through, and alternately wanting
to turn off my heart because I don’t have enough. I can’t feel all the feels. Too much.
Too little.
As I held James, poor James, last night and he wheezed and
coughed and cried, I was reminded how very very sad it is to have a little one
in pain. And then I thought about Ada,
sleeping peacefully in the next room, and how months ago I would have been *terrified*
for her, as I fought hard for four years to protect her from sickness,
primarily of the respiratory type. She
had two flu seasons of Synagis shots, protecting her body from RSV. And each season I would wince when I heard a
hacking cough, and move to redirect our path away from those who were ill…
which was hopeless once the sick came into our home and family. Yeah, I was a bit over the top and
protective. But who wouldn’t be? Considering the situation, considering the
alternative.
We missed play dates.
Nick and I rarely attended church together that first year of her life,
as one or the other was on Ada duty in order to keep her from the germy nursery
and snot-nosed little cuties she would come in contact with. Little by little we could relax our stance, but
the fear was still there. My own
personal loneliness or isolation or sacrifices were real – but honestly, it was
a no-brainer. We didn’t know what we
were doing and didn’t know what the outcome would be, but we knew that Ada’s
heart condition was serious and worth any amount of protection and care.
Two weeks before Ada’s last surgery, James got pretty
sick. Fever that didn’t go away, ear
infection. He shared the ear infection
with Ada and we prayed with such fervency for her. The day before Ada’s open heart surgery,
James was so sick that I called his pediatrician – a professional that lacked a
specific set of
“bedside manner” skills that would’ve made the call less sucky and heartbreaking, as he said that they would need to see James in the morning. Yes, I sobbed then, too, and explained where Nick and I would be. James’ aunties brought him in and eventually the antibiotics helped him out. Our dear boy. But we needed to be with Ada June in those days.
“bedside manner” skills that would’ve made the call less sucky and heartbreaking, as he said that they would need to see James in the morning. Yes, I sobbed then, too, and explained where Nick and I would be. James’ aunties brought him in and eventually the antibiotics helped him out. Our dear boy. But we needed to be with Ada June in those days.
But today. Five
months later, and we have heard from Ada’s new cardiologist in Minnesota that
we can treat her like normal.
Normal? What is THAT? I don’t know how to do normal. So far, normal has been coming to a place
where I am scared and fearful, and I have to tell myself to calm down. Everything will be okay. Someone drops off their sniffling child in
the preschool before us, and explains that the boy’s cold is in its second week
and just won’t go away, so here he is…. And I drop off Ada, and pray, and tell
myself to let it go. She will get a
cold, and she will be fine. And that is
normal. Or James gives his sister kisses
on the mouth to say he is sorry for hitting her on the head with his
hand/toy/book/crochet hook/spoon/ball – and then he wakes up in the middle of
the night with some crazy respiratory coughing and wheezing. Lord help us.
But this is normal life.
So I was exhausted. The hours of sleep we got last night
could definitely be counted on the fingers of one hand. And I heard some Christmas music – I don’t
even remember what song it was! But I
wept aloud, with only James as my witness.
Oh, I need Jesus. I need Him to
come save me and save the world. It is
my life and my family, and it is the grieving parents and the scared refugees and
the lonely coworker and the momma in the hospital watching her son fight and
the momma-to-be carrying the baby whose condition is so like my baby’s was.
And we all need HOPE.
We do. Some of us are desperate
for it. Oh, cry out, my soul. Too many moments and days I am trapped in
fear or fatigue. Or busyness! More often, busyness.
And in despair I bowed my head; 'There is no peace on earth,' I said; 'For hate is strong, and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men!' Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The wrong shall fail, The right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to men.'
Truly, He taught us to love one another. His Law is love, and His gospel is peace. Chains shall He break, for the slave is our
brother, and in His name, all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of Joy, in grateful chorus raise we. Let all within us praise His holy name. Christ is the Lord. O praise His name forever, His power and
glory ever more proclaim.
O Come, o come Emmanuel...
