This blog is supposed to be about mommy meltdowns, obsessive swiffering of hardwood floors, undisciplined eating of bite size candy bars at eight o’clock in the morning, and other petty humorous matters mixed with some insight into and inspiration from God’s Word. But tonight I’m not quite inspired and definitely not laughing. In fact, I’ve been crying a lot the past few days. So although it may not be funny or very inspiring, like the poop episode (see “Not So Dirty Diapers”), I feel compelled to write because if I didn’t write this I wouldn’t write at all.
Eight years ago, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room on Christmas Day watching the snow fall out the window. It was a beautiful sight, and in any other situation would have made Christmas that much more special. But not that year. The big flakes floating to the ground outside the thick glass seemed to only serve as a reminder of the bleakness of our situation.
My dad had undergone major brain surgery a few days prior and was back in the hospital with post operation complications scarier than the surgery itself. We feared for his life. I’ll never forget being in the basement in some corridor of the hospital praying and pleading for my dad’s life.
God answered our prayer. He stabilized and a few days later was released from the hospital. Looking at my dad today you would never ever know that he had major brain surgery that nearly took his life. We are beyond thankful.
However, memories of that terrible Christmas are haunting me now as we seem to be undergoing trial after tragedy after trial. I can’t explain them all (nor would you want me to), but when it rains it pours. My stomach hurts, my body aches, my eyes long for sleep that won’t really come because my mind wont stop thinking, worrying, rehearsing, and dreaming when I lie down at night. It has been one of the hardest weeks of my life, no doubt.
I haven’t even had much time to sort through emotions or read His word (though I think I understand what it means to pray without ceasing). But last night I was reminded of His love in a verse I had committed to memory years earlier and it was like a warm blanket. It reads:
“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:19-23 (italics mine).
I haven’t read Barak Obama’s book, but I don’t think it’s about the ability or audacity to hope. Anyone can hope–or at least try to. It’s about what or whom your hope is founded on. Though I don’t know the outcome of this troubling situation or when things will settle down, I know that He loves me. And because of that love, I will not be consumed. Right now, that is enough.