safeguarding that little peice of God in ourselves

Monday, April 28, 2014

I had fully intended to keep up with this blog.  Doesn't everyone?  Then of course life happens.  I've had to remind myself lately that life isn't always about happiness and living as though we are trying to arrive safe and untouched at deaths door.  Even though with long stretches of sunny days and good health I can sometimes think otherwise.  Suffering is part of life no matter how hard we pray or wish it wasn't.  How am I going to accept this present suffering that I've been handed?

I've been in and out of hospitals since December trying to figure out why my baby is having seizures.  Ten sometimes twenty minute seizures that result in having to give her valium or call 911. It's agony watching her little body shake uncontrollably.  Every time I panic. We are waiting on a genetics test which could reveal or not weather she has a severe form of epilepsy that is untreatable.  I try not to read online.  But I do and it's scary. 

When this first started I thought to myself, wait God, I've already been through too much.  Remeber I almost lost one child, I should be exempt from any more pain in this life.  Right?  I reread Job for comfort. 

I love what Brennen Manning has to say, he says it much better than I could. 

    "When tradgedy makes its unwelcome appreaace and we are deaf to everything but the shrieking of our own agony, when courage flies at the window and the world seems to be a hostile menacing place, it is the hour of our own Gethsemane.  No word however sincere offers any comfort or consolation.  The night is bad.  Our minds are numb, our hearts are vacant, our nerves shattered. How will we make it through the night?  The God of our lonely journey is silent."

Friends mean well.  They say they are praying, I take comfort in knowing most of my friends really mean it when they say they pray for us.  But not much brings comfort at this point.   I have no control over what our future will look like.  A few months ago I was reveling in the delight of having my third happy baby.  Now I research medical marijuana and life expectancy for epilepsy. 

Brennan Manning goes on to say, 

"And yet it may happen in these most desperate trails of our human existence that beyond any rational explanation we may feel a nail-scarred hand clutching ours.  We are able to, as Etty Hillesun, the Dutch Jewess who died in Auschwitz on November 30 1942 wrote, "to safeguard that little piece of God in ourselves" and not give way to despair. We make it through the night and darkness gives way to the light of morning.  The tragedy radically alters the direction of our lives but in our vulnerability and defenselessness we experience the power of Jesus in His present riseness."  

And so I feel my way in the dark for that nail-scarred hand and wait for the light to break through the darkness once again.  



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