Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Paloma had a seizure this morning around 5 am.  Last night I had a premonition she would have one.  I prayed extra hard  for her brain to be calm so she wouldn't seize. Part of me felt wrong praying that prayer, asking God for the impossible.  I'm thankful I woke up, even though I hate waking up in a panic feeling her small limbs twitching next to me.  The valium we give her to make the seizures stop always makes her scream and nothing soothes her except driving around.  So I hopped in the car and drove around my neighborhood watching the sun rise while listening to Josh Garrels.  I drove around for a whole album.  I thought about my faith, I thought about Christians who seem to have no earthly pain, whose lives seem easy.  I thought about how the idea of heaven, which used to scare me has become more appealing.  I wondered if it's possible to really have faith in Jesus without having gone through something gut wrenching. 

I thought back to something I had long forgotten.  After Selah's accident we stayed in a hostel run by nuns in Trieste, Italy. The hostel was down the road from the children's hospital where Selah was at.  We would walk back and forth all day to visit her. I know it was bitterly cold that February but I don't remember even feeling the cold.  One morning I was on my way to the hospital and I was screaming and crying at the top of my lungs for God and everyone to see. I didn't care. I was in so much pain all I could do was scream out to God. I am sure people stared, I don't remember. I do remember an Italian lady came to me and asked what was wrong.  In my broken Italian all I could muster was my child and pointed at the hospital. She must have walked away thinking I was a loon.  There I was left alone on the sidewalk in a foreign city unable to even speak to the people around me.  I felt so alone.

I wanted so badly for her take my pain away.  I wanted someone, anyone to take it away.  But no one could take it from me.  That's how I felt sitting in my driveway this morning.  I feel totally alone.  My neurologist is no help. I don't even call anymore.  Most of friends don't really call or text anymore. The two that do still call I hardly talk to them. I have forgotten how to a conversation. I just feel so alone. 

But today I have to carry on.  I'll make eggs for breakfast and do a load of laundry.  I will try not to think about God or seizures.