But today there is an overwhelming feeling that I need to write. And just as overwhelming is the feeling that it's not for me, even though writing feels super selfish.
This all started with Logan's diagnosis. But let's be honest, it's been as much about my faith journey as anything. I was on the road to a better understanding of my purpose on this earth, what faith looked like in my life, how I was going to share the gospel and a host of other things I was going to do. And I was pretty confident that by this point in this journey I would have most of that figured out. I would have reached that time in my life where I could now view my future in all the gorgeous colors of the most incredible sunrise or sunset ever created. Knowing, for the most part, what lies ahead.
And yet here were are. I'm compiling what will likely be a large number of words that go against all of that knowing I thought I would have reached by now.
Throughout my entire life, I just assumed fear was part of how we lived. Not because anyone told me, but because in the strangest way it felt natural. Worry felt like I was doing something. I knew God was present and with me and all that jazz, but part of my duty was to worry and try and have an impact on the world through my worry.
Another part of my life involved never fitting in. Although I have always had friends (wonderful friends!) and been a part of the group (so to speak), inside of me felt like I was always living on the outside of the group. Occasionally I would cross the line and be on the inside looking out, but it wasn't what felt the most natural. Being somewhat on the outside looking in felt more real to me. But real, at least in my world, can often feel very lonely. Not a lonely that lingers, but one that is unmistakable.
As I sit here and type, I've come to some pretty solid realizations. Being in my 40s is amazing. I am my most real self, surrounded by the most real people and I find comfort and strength in both.
I am an incredibly deep thinker. It's taken me this long to realize that the rest of the world may not, in fact, think as deeply. I'm terrible at small talk because of that, but I have worked on that skill for years. Sometimes though, I just check out....because often I just can't participate. Throughout the course of my life, I have often felt like this character trait was a mistake. Something I needed to over come. To fix.
Being an incredibly deep thinker creates a very sensitive inner being. I tear up and cry a lot. I think so much further into situations and have trouble just seeing things at surface level. And I often don't understand why the world doesn't live at the same depth in which I live. Another thing that I felt must need fixing. Never did I truly consider it anything other than me not handling life as I should.
I want justice for all in this world, but not at the expense of justice for all in this world. And I finally realize that is not black and white, which has nothing to do with race. It's about there being few absolutes. But knowing that we cannot operate without some absolutes.
I'm a passionate person, which is a word I would never have used to describe myself. But I have a hard time with passion that is fueled by anything other than love and plays out as anything other than love. And until now, being passionate felt like I wasn't living in reality. I had great thoughts, but let's be real. Let others change the world. I needed to just stick to my little part of it.
And as true as all of this is, it's not actually about me. It never has been and it never will be. That may be one of the best and most freeing things that age and this journey has taught me.
That and the fact that the world is filled with people who think and feel the same way, but we pretend not to because fear takes over.
In July we had our biannual neurology appointment for Logan. At that appointment Fred and Dr. Bailey discussed reducing one of Logan's medications. Even as I type this my stomach starts to tighten and my palms sweat. I'm pretty sure both of those are included in the definition of fear. But I could not logically come up with a reason not to try it, especially when Dr. Bailey said it was a good time. We decided on the amount that we would reduce by and then it was up to me to decide when to start. I knew how badly Fred wanted to try to get him off of some of the meds and how patient he had been for so long and there is a chance I prayed about it. So the next day we started with the new dose.
During this same time Nana had been fighting an infection that she just couldn't shake. Or at least couldn't shake the side effects. She's one of the toughest humans I know so she kept powering through, doing everything she could to get stronger. She was staying away from the boys until she knew the infection was gone, because she didn't want to take a chance on getting them sick. Not seeing her grandsons is a special kind of torture for her.
July 26th was the first day of the medication reduction for Logan and for the following week or so we saw no changes. No changes is good when considering what could happen when you start taking away seizure meds.
On the other hand, no changes are not good when considering Nana and the infection she has now been fighting for close to two months. The same feedback every time she would seek medical help, keep eating and drinking fluids. It will get better.
No need for a play by play of everything that followed, it doesn't impact the outcome, but here is the gist.
Over the following weeks Logan had seizures that were different and worse. He was fussy and irritable and had trouble sleeping. No need to worry, this was to be expected.
Over those same few weeks Nana was diagnosed with leukemia. This was in no way, shape or form expected, and worry seemed like the most immediate and appropriate reaction.
As Nana entered what would be a lengthy hospital stay, Logan began to get better. The seizures subsided, he started sleeping again and he was happier.
With Nana the only that seemed to be for sure was that everything was unknown at this point.
Meanwhile the rest of life was happening. Freddie starting a new school year, Fred and all that he had going on as well as just the ins and outs of daily life. Dinner, laundry, homework, putting gas in the car. Sounds crazy, but so real.
Fear, anxiety, laughter, desire to control, excitement, anger, joy, frustration, sadness, compassion. They were all there...and then some. Bumping into each other. Traveling separately at high rates of speed. Sometimes disappearing altogether. Sometimes all present at once.
Just....like...life. That's what it is. Life.
I've always had this battle within myself to live life as a journey...with a destination. Happiness. Fulfillment. Success. They were all there...at my destination.
But I had it all wrong.
I heard a preacher say the other day that the bumps along the way are what we climb on. I would also say they could be what knocks us back down, challenging us to never try to get back up.
Choosing to climb, knowing they are there, that's where I am now. And it is the most unbelievably amazing way to live life that I have ever known.
The message at church on Sunday was powerful. Feel free to view it online here. It was filled with beautiful morsels of truth. But the one solid truth that I walked away with that day is faith not fear. I've heard it all my life and Sunday, I finally felt it.
Church, the Bible, preachers, devotions - they all talk about the gifts God gives us. That we were created perfectly to be who God wants us to be. But we can only do that by TRUSTING God. Believing in Him and Him alone. And by letting go of our fears and relying on our faith. I am finally, finally starting to get that.
Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing. Except...eternal life in heaven. But we have to do our part.
Those things that always felt like a mistake in me - now feel like God's power in me. If only every person could believe that. I'm not saying I have it all figured out and I will never fear again, but when fear does try to creep in, I'm finally turning to the only place that truly takes that fear away. That's my wish for others. To always have somewhere to turn. Something to believe in. Somewhere to always know they can find peace.
I always looked at faith as a one size fits all. Everyone basically had the same journey, the same destination and many of the same challenges along the way. I couldn't be further from the truth. It's different for everyone at every step. But the joy and peace and the blessings along the way...they are for everyone.
When Mama was in the early days of her hospital stay and things were not the easiest, she talked about meeting God at a tree. She said He was always there, no matter when she needed Him. And the message was always the same. To trust Him. And that's just what she did.
My mama....she's coming home today. The woman who never took any medication in her life and has never been in the hospital (except to have me) is finally coming home after a 39 day hospital stay. And as happy as she is to be coming home, it is clear that the nurses and staff on that floor will truly miss her. So many have made it a point to stop in to tell her goodbye, but to also let her know how excited they are for her that she is going home. That's that power of God in her. She is a light in this world and for everyone she meets.
God is doing some amazing things in our lives even as we go through challenges that, had we known were coming, would have caused us to run as fast as possible in the other direction.
Faith, not fear. I can't put it into words. Those who don't believe can't understand. And I get that. It's not easily explainable. But I'm trying to live it.
I heard this song for the first time as I turned into the hospital the day Mama was diagnosed. I cried and rejoiced all in the same moment.
And a friend of mine sent this song to me a while back.
They both tell the story. The assurance that we are not alone. The truth that trust works.
And it's not....about...us. It never has been. We have a role to play, a job to do, people to love and good news to share.
Fear loses. Faith always wins. God has the power, through us, to change the world.
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