Here I sit in the waiting room. Not the doctor's office, but the waiting space, where I wait for Britton to take a breath. His face tinged blue, his eyes stare at nothing...he's not even gasping. No sign of life...my mind spins the what if's. My heart feels huge, pressing against my throat, choking me as I try to pray. Then, there's that tiny moment, between desperate prayers and no answers that eclipses the tick tock of the clock.
The place of waiting, between the nonstop praying and the far away answers that causes my soul to burst into flames! My prayers morph into begging. I sound like a small child patronizing a cruel father.
I write the replay...like it happened in a blink, and yet honestly it was a forever moment. I'm trying to put into words a thousand emotions, but in that frozen second... I listened to his fan blowing, the oxygen tank humming, and my heart beating in my ears. Randy shakes him, he's yelling something I can't hear. Sound disappeared...time stopped.
Always, always, always the devil comes in the very worst moments....he's never in a hurry, and always willing to make a deal. He strolls through my mind and begins a conversation. He talks to me about how I have no faith, or how my admirable faith is useless. He accuses me one second and then attempts to soothe me the next. "It's not your fault, your God is cruel." If that doesn't work, then...he tries to get me to feel sorry for myself. "No one would believe God after all you've been through." He's good at manipulation, we've all been victims of his whispers. The question is, will I agree with this assessment...will I "agree" with him, and accept the deal?
I consider a reply, and then Britton gasps and I forget the enemies cryptic accusations. My shoulders drop from my ears and I think, "Oh thank God!" Then as an afterthought, I throw a dart at the devil. "See, I told you God is good." He's heard that one before, because he has a quick retort. "Would your God still be good if your son never did take that breath?" OUCH
We all know the right answer. God is always good...and yet the accusation stings.
Waiting doesn't come easy for me...not in any form. My momma used to tell me I was born in a hurry. I hurry to get Britton ready for therapy. I hurry to get to church, I hurry to get ready for bed. Even then, I'm watching the clock, hurrying to get some rest. I set all my clocks ten minutes fast, because I guess, that's supposed hurry time.
A lot of you know from personal experience, Autism hurries for no man. (or momma.) Its OCD's and needs for sameness, make speeding up any process, a lesson in futility. (Not even a cattle prod...no, I've not tried it.) Today we spent over an hour choosing a shirt. I haven't a clue what that's about, but it's important to him to get just the right one. The stress of wearing the wrong one is not worth the angst that ensures if he isn't given the time to choose for himself.
I'd love to say that autism has cured me of my need to go faster...but the reality is, it's just made me wish for it more...Inside that desperate desire is constantly buzzing at the speed of light. But I have come a long way, so I'll take that.
After the long set of seizures, and the breath that took a lifetime...I chewed on the enemies question into the wee hours. I've thought long and hard about my "deal" I continue to pretend I have with God. I pretend there is a line drawn in the sand, a line God absolutely will not cross...because I decided. Can you relate? Do you have a "deal" of your own?
It's an imaginary contract...a "deal" we create to help get us through the hard stuff. Most days I pretend it's irrevocable. Though God has never agreed, and he definitely never signed it. I keep pretending it's my safety net.
Yes we've been through some hard stuff, but I have a contract, so I needn't worry. I've drawn that line in the sand. I can trust him not to cross it! Even if I fail him, even if everything shatters...there's the line...
The longer I "considered" the devil's question, the heavier my heart became. I was a young christian when I first "wrote my contract." I'd not seen as many tragedies, as many failures, or as many deaths. I needed to decide if I believed God was good, even if...my contract was never binding. It was time to acknowledge that my belief in the contract would never control the Creator of the universe...he never fits in any size box.
I spent this past week in a whirlwind of what if's. What if God crossed the line? Would I keep moving the line? Had I moved the line already? When life isn't good, what do I believe about God? I landed on the same "rock" I've landed on, again and again. I have two choices...
Trust in God's goodness, or go my own way...that is the stark realtiy. Because the day will come when he will step over the line. There is no contract that binds our God...beyond his own words. Even on the days I forget, he is God, and that I most assuredly am NOT!
Sitting on my hands is an impossibility for me. So...I remind myself that waiting doesn't have to be filled with tense moments of "doing nothing." Waiting is best filled with sustained prayer. Staying focused on God's goodness, his words and his promises. Waiting can be full of anxiety, or it can be full of God's rest. We get to choose.
Hard situations, hard days, hard moments...can teach us that God is with us, or we can listen to the whispers of the enemy. We can accuse the King of Kings of stepping over the line, breaking our imaginary contract. Or...we can acknowledge that the only contract he ever signed was fulfilled more than two thousand years ago.
Everyone you know may leave you in your hour of greatest need. But God...has promised that he won't budge. How do I know...Because the "deal" God made with man...was signed in blood. He kept his end of that bargain, paying for it with his son's life...the only real question left is...did I keep my end?
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned or scorched, nor will the flame kindle upon you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior..." Isaiah 43:2
"Strong!" Try to make 'em all think I'm strong. Yeah, the face I keep putting on says I ain't tired. But these tear-stained eyes ain't lying. Cause hard, nobody told me life could be so hard. A weary soul with a worn out heart that's barely beating. But every time I get that feeling...I hit my knees with my hands held high, saying "dear lord Jesus! You know I can't do this on my own." I FEEL this song. Way down deep, all the way to my bone marrow. Watching it climb the charts...means that...
Howdy! (I had to say that, I'm from Texas!) I've only met about half of the folks on my email list, face to face. The other half, know me through my books or blogs. If you are wondering how I found you, it was through a contest you entered with Booksweeps. You traded your email address for a chance to win books, and hear about big discounts on books in the future. Like a firm southern handshake, you can count on, I'm keeping my end of the bargain. That's what this email is about...an ebook...
How are you faring in this hot hot..."did we move closer to the Equator this summer, somehow?" Not only has it been a hot summer at our house, it has been an anxiety filled one. Britton seized in the pool, and ended up in ICU. Randy and I stayed tied in knots until we knew he was stable. We looked at each other and wondered... "How will we continue to live from tragedy to tragedy?" Our last day in ICU, my anxiety was in the stratosphere. I was dealing with my dad's imminent passing. My...