Faithful Friday: Upside-down Christmas

The holidays are almost never what we imagine them to be. 

On Christmas Eve, children go to bed with visions of sugar plums, while parents dream of picture perfect celebrations.  But often when we awake, our reality lacks luster.  The magic we'd hoped for just doesn't arrive.

Such plans I'd had for this Christmas.  My heart was in the right place.  It wasn't about what was under the tree but who was around it.  I entered the season prayerfully.  Prepared.

Traditions of pajamas, appetizers, and seasonal movies kicked off our holiday.  That eve, between the light of the tree and fireplace, I'd planned to linger over Luke 2 with the family.  And we'd end with a late night candlelight service at church.

Yet brakes were put on with the start of a fever.  Try as I did to ignore it, by the end of the evening, I was beyond faking through. 

Unexpected.  Unplanned.  Upside-down Christmas.

Tim took the kids to church without me.  I wanted them to go and yet wanted them to stay in the same breath.  Proud of them for going on, missing them before they pulled away. 

I sat teary under the light of the tree and fireplace, fever elevating, and finished "The Women of Christmas."  Reminded of my blessings, praying for a better tomorrow.

But Christmas didn't come as planned. 

No sparkly Santa surprises.  No shouts of excitement and glee.  No Hallmark moments.
No seasonal spread calling us to the kitchen.

Why is this what we wait for?  
After all, the very first Christmas arrived so humbly.

There was no glitter but it was most certainly magical.

Our Plan B Christmas included a breakfast casserole, thankfully already prepared and awaiting the oven.  And I was grateful for somewhat-blasé teens, who appreciated sleeping in a bit later than normal.  Who didn't mind a mid-morning nap after opening gifts, as the flu continued to attack my energy and strength. 

By the afternoon we tried to salvage what remained.  Turkey frying outside and games at the table.  Laughter and a fever reprieve. 

But a page sent Tim out the door, someone else's Christmas turned upside down and inside out.   A house fire on this day of all days...

We waited.  We prayed.  Kept playing the game best we could. 

And then the call came.  The one where the lump still comes back into my throat just thinking about it.  The one where my husband is on the other end and sirens are in the background.  The one where I could hear in his tone that something wasn't right even before I heard the words. 

The call a firefighter's wife never wants to get...

Then the pettiness of being frustrated with this Christmas goes straight out the window.  In rushes humility in reminders that I still didn't have it right.  The season is not about me.  Or my plans.  Or my traditions.  Even if I had the best intentions in mind.  All while I push through and get the kids out the door and into the ER. 

Tim's injury, thankfully, wasn't as serious as I feared but seeing him on the table still brought me to tears.  To my knees. 

If we had nothing this Christmas, we still had each other. 
Sometimes things need to be turned upside down to remember all that you have. 

And in the center of it all,
the best gift,
already given all those years ago. 

Not wrapped, just swaddled in rags. 
With only the spotlight of single star.

Faithful Friday: No Words

I posted a sentence yesterday on social media that came to me, after talking to someone who is (and has been) going through an extremely difficult year. 

"The true test of our faith isn't when life is good, 

it's when life is falling apart and we're on our knees."  

#praiseHiminthestorm

Little did I know that moments later I would be on my own knees.  
A crumpled mess on the floor, praying incomprehensibly.

"In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should,  but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."  Romans 8:26

On my lunch hour, and reading my Bible, I see a call come in from Tim.  We often check in on each other's day, so no other thought came to mind when I answered hello. Knowing my impending reaction, he did an amazing job staying calm while talking to me.  I don't remember much about the conversation other than the scary bits which stood out, shook me to the core, and brought uncontrollable sobs from within me.

"on my way to pick up Noah"
                                                      "with school nurse"
                                                                                            "lost consciousness"

Tim tried to console me, assuring me Noah was alert and ok, and that he'd call me back.  All I know is that in those moments I was pulled straight to five years ago.  Flashbacks that haven't attacked me for some time came flooding through.  

This season is all too familiar with painful memories.  Though I love fall, the changing trees are a signal that November is around the corner.  Of reliving the unimaginable.  Of life spiraling.

Noah's looks have changed as he's grown, matured.  He is one year from the age Austin was when we lost him.  So many similarities just in the physical sense.  

In other ways too, like how even as teenagers they'd both flock to babies.  

Austin with Allen - Oct 2008

Noah with Rae - Aug 2013

Walking beside Noah and holding his arm to stabilize him at the doctor, more flashes and glimpses.  Noah's face was flushed, his cheek with streaks of red.  ...that face, heart wrenching memories.

His body language spoke volumes, hands shaking from the unknown, heart racing, timid steps.  Noah was scared and I was reminded to push all my pain and nightmares to the side, to help calm him.  Mom couldn't crumple.  Mom could only comfort and pray.  And dispatch prayers from loyal warriors on the ready with the sending of a text.  

For what seemed an eternity later, the answer was somewhat consoling, though full details are still uncertain.  What we think happened, is that Noah hit his knee in the booth at lunch, sending a pain signal so severe that caused him to faint.  We've had some conflicting stories from students who witnessed his fall, which only causes this momma to worry more, but I'm trying to give it to God.

There's no real explanation for why these things happen, and to most it would probably be just an interesting story to share.  For this family, who has lived the unimaginable, it hit a little too close to home.  It was yet another reminder of our longing for the Home in which pain will no longer be a factor.  Where fear is no more.

^"In the same way, we can see and understand only a little about God now, as if we were peering at his reflection in a poor mirror; but someday we are going to see him in his completeness, face-to-face. Now all that I know is hazy and blurred, but then I will see everything clearly, just as clearly as God sees into my heart right now." 1 Corinthians 13:12(TLB)

And that's the only comfort I can share with a handful of families who've been in my constant prayers this year.  There's no explanation for why they are going through the tumultuous season they are.  I can't say why bad things happen to good people.  I only know that in those moments when you feel God is turning against you, when you're angry, when you can't make sense of life, He is never closer.  He has never stopped loving you.  And He ultimately wants only the best for you.  His timing just sometimes can't be explained in this world.  

Whatever you're facing, it is temporary, difficult as it may be.  
It may feel like never-ending pain.

Yearn for the eternal.  Lean on Him.  He will hold you through this storm...

 

Joy in Pain

I was having a bit of a meltdown this morning.  We left the doctor with the news we'd feared, surgery was most likely our best option for Tim's back.  And much to hubby's dismay, he is off work indefinitely.

Although I left Tim in positive spirits as I headed to work, tears quickly found their way down my face.  So many worries and thoughts went through my head.  ...How long would Tim endure this pain?  Will we survive this financially?  Can my stir crazy husband stand numerous months of little activity?  So many concerns.
Yet on the way to work, God was speaking to me through the radio.  With every step I took down into depression, he lifted me up two more.  Once I arrived, this message found me:

God is never going to put us into a situation

or permit us to be in one without giving us the ability to be in it with joy.

It seems like a lifetime that this all began, yet it was only a week ago.  To those of you who are somewhat lost right now, I'll begin at the beginning...
By last Tuesday, Tim had been ill for over a week.  At first we just thought it was a typical stomach bug.  After five days of not keeping any solid food down, we feared it was more.  A trip to the doctor and an antibiotic later, we were told it was an infection due to diverticulitis.  But over the weekend he grew worse and after several days, intense back pain had joined the the party.

One moment I was fussing at him for going into work, the next he was unconscious on the floor. 
My life stopped. 

Heart racing in my throat, I made the call to 9-1-1, part of me remembering the terrible night four years ago I'd last called them.  Prayers never ceasing, I went through the motions of making Tim comfortable as possible, dressing, unlocking and opening doors and waiting....waiting for the ambulance.

Hours in the ER and several tests later, we were informed he'd be admitted.  Other than our motorcycle wreck all those years ago, Tim had never spent the night in the hospital.  I fought the tears as they wheeled him through the halls and was yet again grateful for my husband's joking  and joyful spirit. 

At some point, I went home for a quick shower, supplies and to check on the doggies.  Thankfully my sister had come hours earlier to get the kids and occupy them.  Getting back to him in record time, I arrived to find his doctor sitting at the foot of the bed.  Though there had been thorough testing, we still had no real answers.  His pain was fairly managed and a scope scheduled for morning.

The clock was a constant reminder to me of that night's obligations...VBS.  Why did I sign every one of us to help this week?  One person missing could be worked around.  Not four.  And especially when we each had specific roles.  But could I leave Tim?  Satan was certainly taking advantage of our situation.

Part of me wanted to crawl up in bed with him.  Part of me wanted to take him home.  All of me just prayerfully wished he was better.  Knowing I had none of those options, and that two kiddos needed me at home each night, I opted to move forward with Bible school.  Kissing him good-bye was difficult, but it helped to have the kids there, keeping me strong. 

VBS was a blessing in so many ways.  Every group that came in, was filled with happy kids and worried faces of teachers, wanting an update on Tim.  Hugs and pats on the back got me through, including the children's faces of surprise as we acted out the resurrection of Lazarus.  As soon as VBS was over though, tears fell.  I was thankful for the dark sky and tired kiddos because we all headed straight to bed, even though my husband's side was empty.  It was a long night.

The rest of the week was much of the same.  Groundhogs Day.  Little sleep.  Long days.  Late nights.  Tears, prayers and laughter.  Juggling work, church and squeezing in as much time with Tim as possible.  Grateful for a caring boss and flexible schedule.  Blessed with a church family who cares and prays.  Thankful for docs who let me hover and ask questions.  Honored to be a part of Bible school and the many, many God-filled moments it brought.

In the end, I realized what a blessing it was that Tim was hospitalized the entire week of VBS.  Had he not been, I would have been even more torn, not wanting to leave him alone.  At least there I knew he was monitored and cared for.  And at church we were seeing tiny movements, inspirations and rooms full of love that only children can bring.  By Thursday night, each of our leaders had counseled with a child.  Our three influences brought two recommitments and a salvation.  That was worth every long and stressful moment of working Bible school!

Decide not to spend your life miserable. God is alive and has a plan for you!

 By the weekend, Tim was back home.  Although I was happy to have him here, it hurt me to watch him in pain and not be able to change it.  Even an hour at church deemed too much Sunday and he paid for it that afternoon.  He tried to go back to work yesterday but didn't last thirty minutes, even on light duty.  Today brought us back to the doctor's office with the news we dreaded to hear but expected.

I don't know what our future holds and sometimes the stress of this seems overwhelming, yet I'm reminded again and again of God's presence.  Throughout the day, messages, as if written just for what I'm going through, have fallen my way.

Don't be discouraged.  Sometimes God answers us, sometimes he doesn't.  But he always there.

No matter the heartache.  No matter the uncertainty.  No matter the trials.  Knowing that he's always there is what keeps me filled with joy, even on the hardest of days.