Friday, February 11, 2011

One of THOSE days.

There are days when walking through all of this, that the weight is with you at every turn. It's always a little bit of a weird feeling for me. I will be both smiling and fighting tears at the same time. I am so very thankful as I watch Abigail play, that she is able to do all that she is able to. I am both proud and amazed at how smart she is. My heart overflows when I watch her little personality play out while pretending, singing, telling stories, and snuggling. She brings me so much joy that it overpowers most of the sorrow.
(Abigail managed to put her hat and snow pants on by 'iself.' They needed a little fixing before we could go outside.)
But the sorrow lurks. It hides right below the surface, and while watching her tenth attempt to run through the house end in yet another fall I can only barely keep the tears from flowing. It seems lately she is extra itchy, and that the leg differences are becoming more and more noticeable. She seems to be losing some strength as well. And frankly it scares me a little.
Right now her surgery is still technically pretty easy as far as plexi surgeries go. But I have a feeling that things are rapidly changing in that little leg of hers. And with the changes come more unknowns. Should I push for another MRI before her surgery? Should I chance it, and know that the surgeon told me he's ready for surprises?
But as the thoughts scroll through my brain they leave as quickly as they entered. Because I look up and Papa is tickling Abigail and she is laughing, not just a cute little laugh, but a deep belly laugh that comes from within the soul. And somehow it lets me know, at least for that moment, that she is okay, and she will be okay. Okay doesn't mean perfect. Okay doesn't even mean that everything is going to turn out all right. Okay just means that my little girl has so much joy in her that I believe that this will not be able to trump that.

And then the time of day comes when she is sleeping. Tonight I am home alone. So the thoughts tend to go from fleeting and scrolling to full fledged taking over my thoughts. So I do what I always do when I feel overwhelmed with life; I turn Pandora on to the Nichole Nordeman station, make a cup of hot tea, and indulge in some sort of dark chocolate. I don't know that it helps, but it is soothing and brings about a feeling of melancholy. And generally, at some point, a song comes on that speaks to my soul, and I feel that deep crying out to deep feeling, and start to come back to a place of peace, despite the fact that things will continue to be unknown.

One such song that does that here lately is one called 'Fail Us Not' by 1000 generations. Some of the lyrics are:

There is nothing above you.
There is nothing beyond you.
There is nothing that you can't do.
There is no one beside you.
There is no one that's like you.
There is nothing that you can't do.
Whatever will come, we'll rise above.
You fail us not. You fail us not.
No matter the war, our hope is secure.
You fail us not. You fail us not.
You are bigger than the battle....

I'm thankful that I serve a God who doesn't fail us. I am thankful that my hope is secure. I am thankful that he is bigger than the battle going inside Abigail's little body.


  1. ...and I'm going to speak with Joey's pediatrician. Forget that crazy orthopedic office!