We fought all day. Everything that he said felt personal and aggressive and I was on edge. My feelings were hurt and I felt alone.
I have been warning those closest to me that I may break at some point and I apologized to them in advance if they happened to be the ones I end up snapping on. Daniel may end up harboring the brunt of my emotions and I hate that because he's the one I love and need the most-now and always.
I fell to the ground sobbing and somehow ended up in the fetal position; crying desperately and body shaking. Shrill cries escaped me and I lost control of my thoughts. Tears poured from my eyes as I allowed myself the option of vulnerability. Something so foreign and hard for me and yet I explored it in depth as my husband held me and I let go.
I'm afraid. It's unfair. The Lord may choose not to heal our baby.
We are just at the beginning. It's not fair to the other kids. I can't believe this is happening.
I don't want to be strong. I don't think I can do this.
Medicine. Charts. Delays.
I'm alone. I'm surrounded. I'm empty yet feel so full.
...and thoughts swirled violently in my mind and slipped quickly from my lips. I let myself say things that I never thought I would say. This journey has changed me. I'm forever changed. I'm not sure if I'll ever wake up with the kind of joy that I once felt. Somehow it is peppered with unknowing and a sense of sadness. I don't know if I'll ever be that same woman again or that same mom for that matter. I'm sure I won't.
I am changing everyday.
My God is still the same. Mabel's delays or seizures haven't shaken Him.
My fear, sadness, guilt, anger or confusion don't offend Him.
Whether He chooses to heal Mabel or not does not define my faith in Him or my relationship with Him.
Knowing He can if He so chooses is the foundation for my faith.
And I believe He can. I still believe He can.
I don't want to be the poster child for how to walk this journey gracefully.
I just want to do the best I can everyday and hope that it's enough. I want to love these kids, teach them about the Lord, maintain a marriage of strength and passion with my husband and allow my friends to be there for me when I most need them.
As wide open as that makes me feel-I am willing to accept that I need not walk this trail alone.
It's far too long. It's much too wide. And it's all too deep.
So here I am saying that I may not be strong everyday.
That's ok. It's not me anyway.
It's His strength that will carry me and He will receive the glory.
And He knew that all along--that I would give Him the honor.
Because this is His story, after all. He is the author and I am simply penning the words.
I pray that through this trial in our lives that is sometimes too hard to believe and too much to bear, that I reflect every good thing that He is doing. I pray that you see Him in all we endure.
And I hope that His reflection would shine brightly in the rear view of our lives.
It's all about Jesus.
So I lifted my body up off the floor and embraced my husband. He grabbed my cheeks and asked me,
"Do you believe in Jesus?
'Yes,' I replied.
"Do you believe He died for you and rose from the grave?"
'Yes," I replied.
"Then praise Him. Lift your hands and praise Him."
And he lifted my hands for me as the exhaustion took over and he mouthed the words out loud. You are worthy. Blessed be your name, Jesus. Greater are you. You are holy.
Hallelujah to your name. We will praise you in the pit.
I finally did it. I had the best cry yet to date and let go of so many things that I've been sheltering in my spirit. I spoke them out loud and accepted that this is out of my control.
I know the God who is and for that I am thankful. He is holding us in His hand.
"One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock ..."