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We are a family of fifteen: eight already with Jesus and seven in desperate need of Him. This is the story God is writing in our lives. Proverbs 16:9

Saturday, January 26, 2013

At the End of Today

I read this today:

...after the fall, self-reliance became our default mode of operation.  ...In our exile from Eden , we naturally tend toward self-reliance.  Fortunately, God does not leave us there. God wants to free us from ourselves and there's nothing like suffering to show us that we need something bigger than our abilities and our strength and our explanations.  ~Glorious Ruin, Tullian Tchividjian

This has been a trying week, to say the very least.  There have been so many moments I didn't think I had the mental or physical capacity to move an inch, let alone take care of three very sick babies in all sorts of environments and keep up with two big boys from afar.  Circumstances have even been obstacles against us.  Micah and I, in order to take care of everyone, are apart.  And neither of us can leave to help the other.

Isaac had a rough morning. He was taken off oxygen again and during his nap, had another desaturation. He was put back on, only to be taken off again later on in the day when he seemed alright again. He has not been on since. Tonight, we will see what happens.  Micah reported that Eliana threw up her entire morning bottle and was breathing quickly again.  While I was attempting to help Micah over the phone, referring him to their pediatrician, I had three docs, a respiratory therapist, and various nurses in here to see Isaac, all with a different opinion about what was happening and what should be done. Is it from secretions?  Swelling?  Is he just not as well as he seems when he is awake?  Is there an underlying problem?  What should be done and when after he has a desaturation?  It felt like my brain was going to split in half.

Then there is the emotional toil.  Watching babies hurt and breathe too quickly or not keep their oxygen at the desired level is tough for any parent.  I just want to hug my big boys and make sure they are ok.  I want to see my husband for more than a few minutes at a time.  I want Isaac to lie down, fall asleep, and not have his monitor go off over and over.  I want him to be well.  I want the girls to be well.  I want to sleep more than bits at a time so I don't feel so foggy.  I want Micah to get back to all the things outside our immediate family he wants and needs to do.  I want to sleep knowing all my children are resting out of danger of this illness. 

And I spent the majority of the day spinning my wheels trying to figure it all out and make it all happen.  Again.

(I can't.)

So tonight, as I lie down, I pray God saves me from myself through the suffering in and around me.  I think Tullian and scripture (see Genesis 3:7) is right on.  It is my very first inclination to try to make what I want work, but when it doesn't happen, there is (for those who trust Jesus) an inevitable, leaning-in to His will and a remembrance that He is before all things.  The landing is soft, friends.  What I want may not be the best thing for today or tomorrow.  I will ask, though.  I read another piece today that spoke of the depth of overwhelmedness.  The gal quoted from Psalm 130.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD!
O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
There are encouragements. People who help us be where we cannot, and do things like go and get groceries and extra supplies for my hospital stay. Isaac loves Praise Baby and thanks to another friend, we have a new one for his hospital DVD player.  We have had a ball singing the songs and watching some of the staff faces light up when they come in to a familiar worship song. I am getting precious one-on-one time with my son. He stood up, looked at me sleepily but knowingly, and said Mama tonight.  I gladly lifted him out of his bed and bore his weight in my arms. 

I ask for mercy on us all, then I repent for my lack of trust and desire to be self-reliant, and rest in the finished work of Jesus on my behalf.  Like Isaac, I look sleepily into the eyes of my Father and cry, Abba. 
You can read the above mentioned piece in its entirety here.     

1 comment:

carrie said...

Hang in there! Praying for each of you!!