Why, God?
What did I do wrong?
Where are You in this?
Why won't You make it all go away?
I would say day by day except that early on it truly was moment by moment, He washed me with the Word, some verses becoming so familiar that at times I would find my lips forming the words even before awakening fully came. I clung so very desperately to the hope of eternity, to the promise of His love.
The truth is that I had to; I felt emptied and stripped of everything else.
I distinctly remember standing at the kitchen sink one evening shortly after we had brought Aubrey home from the neonatal intensive care unit, washing dishes, a candle flickering on the window sill before me. I could hear the sounds of Daniel readying children for bed upstairs. The furnace was blowing, comfortingly noisy, and everything was very normal after an up-until-then turned-upside-down fall.
Except that it wasn't normal.
My infant daughter had a totally messed up heart; a heart so unique in its messed-up-ness that nobody could even tell me what to expect, nobody could tell me what kind of surgery she would need, nobody could tell me how long she would probably live.
The sick, aching pit of it all was there in my stomach, mostly under the surface but my constant companion, all the time.
And that was when the work of the Holy Spirit really began.
I had to stop asking questions. I had to stop the inward tantrum that I wanted to shout at every turn: it isn't fair! I had to stop fearing the worst and dreading the future. I had to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.
Again, He washed me with the Word and He began to teach me how present He is in the midst; how to be thankful in every situation; how to treasure the eternal ways I had been permanently changed by Aubrey; how to cherish each moment better through having learned more intimately just how fragile life really is. He taught me how to see His handiwork in the darkest moments I had ever faced.
Fast forward seven years: seven years full of celebration, miraculous sustaining, marvelous good health! Moments along the way of testing and worry and battle, but a victory journey-- including coming off of all medications within a few short years-- overall, especially as time after time, the inevitable (but "the what kind" still up for debate) surgery gets pushed off yet again as Aubrey's vibrancy and vitality has made it unnecessary to undertake something so risky.
Still, in July I felt the familiar tentacles of fear wrapping around my heart as I began noticing Aubrey's coloring turning blueish more frequently. In spite of a less-than-humid summer, she complained about the heat and the sun more than usual. Fingers and face and toes got swollen much more easily. Her own awareness of the limitations of her heart dawned and now it was not only my eyes but also her own eyes filling with tears about it all at times.
Finish that off with confirming her poorest blood oxygen saturation levels yet (79%) in August.
Another opportunity to walk in faith. Another opportunity to reject the questions, the raised fists, the doubts. Another opportunity to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.
And now to let Him grow large in her heart and life, too.
I don't know what the rest of Aubrey's days will look like. I have learned and continue to learn that I don't need to know with her any more than I know with the rest of my children. The same God who holds each of our lives in His hands holds her life, too. He has proven that He works and He works and He works. In me. Through me. In her. Through her. To grow, to build, to further.
We continue this victory journey, knowing that the real victory is when we stand before Him, face to face, and declare once and for all, "You are faithful to the end."
No comments:
Post a Comment