Monday, February 20, 2012
To See Beyond
C. has a chronic auto-immune disease that routinely messes his business up.
He's had spells where we dealt with it weekly, and spells where I had to be reminded that he was "sick". But the past five months have arguably been the worse. And it just so happens that the "worse" has coincided with a change in insurances. And it just so happens that the change in insurances coincided with our move to the Betty Draper rental.
So while I spend too much of my life holding my baby's hand while he gets poked with needles, and while I spend Sunday morning in bed with my favorite six year old answering questions like, "Why did God give me this sickness?", I feel peace rest light upon us.
When a sick day becomes a sicker night and we land before dawn in a room with an adjustable bed and a snap-up gown, I can almost touch the truth.
All those months ago, when we didn't understand and we struggled to find a different course, telling ourselves in the dark, "We could still live here on the farm. Maybe we were wrong. We'll just stay. We can still afford it", God knew all about the hairpin curve two miles up.
This is the way He loves us. He loves us right now and in the future. He loves our health and our bruised-tender IV sites. He loves our heart for His mission. He loves to release us from the dangerous, illusory grip of smoke-and-mirrors wealth, and sometimes, kind doctors and confusing insurance powerhouses hold that freedom bell while we do the clanging.
I'm so thankful tonight for gifts that I might not have recognized two years back. I'm heart-broken for the sadness that rests so small and alone on the other side of the hanging curtain. I'm exhausted to my core and praying that Calvin and Daddy sleep well in that noisy room.
God, drip your presence and your truth straight into his veins. Speak to all your boys while they rest tonight.