I thought it had come to stay. The sadness that I felt in the beginning of this journey, realizing something wasn't right with our little girl. I thought that sadness and gloom had manifested in my heart and would be there eternally. It was a time of deep sorrow for me and I was sure he was here to stay.
And then, just like that-something changed. I sought God and I shoveled deep within myself. I allowed myself to feel the sadness and venture through that as it tormented me for what seemed like endless days and weeks. But just as quick as the sadness came, the sadness has gone.
I see others feeling the heaviness and the burden of this situation. I see it in their eyes; the worry and the realization. And that brings about another sadness in me. In the throws of their denial, or their own form of hope, I was sucked into a pit of sadness and despair. I got such a deep, heavy head start on my grief in this process that I now have to watch the people who love us go through it in their own way, at their own pace, in their own time. And that, too, is hard.
But my sorrow, that emotion that was for so long my only friend, has escaped my spirit and I almost visibly watched him flee. I woke up one day and I started to feel an ease. A peace. I felt the Lord and in all of His majesty I heard His voice.
"This is your lot. I chose it for you. But I am here. I am in it and it's going to be ok."
And just like I surrendered.
I had to feel everything I felt in the beginning of this journey or I would not be here today. I would not survive the devastating appointments, awful diagnosis', discouraging, heartbreaking reminders, or the simple day to day tasks if I hadn't embraced sorrow when he walked into the door of my heart. I didn't fight him. I didn't turn him away. No, rather I wrapped myself around him like a lost love and bedded with him for months. I intimately memorized how sorrow felt and delicately toted him with me wherever I had to go. He was with me and I with him.
He shows up unannounced every now and then throughout my day to day but now I am able to gently remind him that there is no room for him in this place anymore. I have a life to live that is abundant and vibrant. I have children to raise, a husband to love, a home to cherish and memories to make. There is no time to waste wallering with sorrow on a Sunday. Instead, a Lord to worship in all circumstances. He is still God, after all.
And do you know that this God is going to do something remarkable? He always does. He made the world with His hands and He calls me friend. He has gifted us with Mabel and her life. She is a perfect example of the miracles that God is capable of. A physical miracle would be amazing. I would feel so humbled to be a part of that. A spiritual miracle is already taking place in me and my prayer is also in you!
In these weeks while we are waiting for an earthly diagnosis, I was reminded while reading a wonderful book that we have not yet received a diagnosis from our ultimate Physician. He hasn't revealed it. He hasn't specified it. And until He does we are counting on Him and believing Him for good things. I know that you are watching and waiting in great anticipation for that which the Lord may do in Mabel. I feel like there are spectators at every side. I want you to know something: Whether He does, or He doesn't--He is still the same God to me.
Medicine is Medicine. Science is Science.
But God is God.
Lord. Jesus. Word. Messiah. Alpha. Omega. Savior. Redeemer. Light of the world. Lamb of God. Ruler of Creation. Mediator. Bread of Life. Advocate. Almighty. Holy. Worthy. Deliverer. Faithful. Living One. Way. Truth. Life.
And sorrow, for the record, is welcome anytime. I have come to know him as a sharpener of my own hope and faith. But I am confident that in this journey, I will recognize sorrow quickly and move him on just as fast. I am ok. I am going to be ok. No matter what happens, this is not our home and we have eternity to look to. No matter what happens, I am trusting God.