After the most insane 12 weeks of my life, I suddenly find myself with no one to take care of! Hubby and nephew are of for a week of mission work. BabyGirl's at camp. The only one left here with me is my 17 year old, and all she does is work and sleep!
I was supposed to go on the mission trip. We serve the Appalachia Service Project, doing emergency repairs for homeowners. But my 19 year old hasn't had her baby yet - stubborn little Boo! She's due the 23rd and apparently intends to stay where she is until then!
So I have a week off. No work, which is a blessing. My work is demanding, and I have had brain function issues since my illness in November that make it even harder. The break has allowed me some breathing room. My calendar since April has been such a bewildering maze of doctors appointments, medication schedules, shot reminders, and negotiations with insurance that I simply don't know what to do with a blank week!
So I am painting. No, nothing artistic. Bedrooms. We are shifting things around to get ready, financially and emotionally, for the upcoming strain of surgeries and dialysis. And believe it or not, this type of mindless labor has a very Zen appeal for me. I have finally been able to let all the hamsters off the wheels in my head, exhaust myself with a good day's work, and sleep. Really, really sleep. And finally, to pray.
Oh, not like I haven't been praying. Back in December, when I'd been sick for about 3 weeks and no one knew what was goint on, our church had a little tree. You were supposed to write a prayer, stick it in a clear glass ornament, and hang it up. My prayer just said, "PLEASE". As in, "I'm begging you..." And nearly every prayer since then has been a harried, concentrated plea for something I need right now - the car to run, the traffic to clear so we can get "there" on time, for Matt to get better NOW because I need him, get me back to work before I run out of sick time....
But I haven't had time (or taken it) to listen. To let myself know that I am being carried (Footprints In The Sand). There is always a part of me that is aware that God is with me, but I confess I rarely "hear" His voice the way many claim to. But yesterday, there was conversation.
"She's officially on the list, God. Please! Do the miracle and get her matched! I'd sell my soul... No! Wait! YOU own my soul, but you know what I mean. I'd do anything so she would't have to suffer this!"
"She is not the only child, nor are you the only mother, who is walking this road and praying this prayer. Would you want another child to die waiting so yours could be healed?"
Ouch. Okay, so when I say "anything" is that what I mean? SIgh. No. Sincerely, no. So, okay, keep carrying me, God. And, well, then, how 'bout those coping skills? Can you give me some of them?
Thanks, God. Amen.
DeeDee
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