It is so good to be home. Good, but weird. The absurd normalcy of everything, the fact that life continues on, seems unimaginable somehow. Like time should stop because our son has miraculously been returned to us. Like temper tantrums from our three year old should magically disappear. Like people should still be emailing us every day with encouragement and prayers. Like things shouldn't keep marching on. But they do. And somehow, we need to find our footing in this new normal. We need to figure out how to function on (very very) limited sleep, just like all parents of a newborn do. We need to decipher how to allow people to help, how to embrace community and life again, while protecting our son from infection and not allowing ourselves to retreat into a hole . . .
My heart feels a strange combination of joy and hope, coupled with exhaustion and sadness in knowing everything our son has been through and continues to go through on a daily basis. I've been a little melancholy all day, looking at the road we're on and realizing that it is literally impossible for us to do this alone. It is impossible for us to force ourselves to feel optimistic, to stay on top of feeding schedules and medications and cleaning everything, to connect with each other, and to give Jayci the attention and love she needs and deserves. . . And thinking about all of that, I am struck by the realization that we need the Lord to carry us through this chapter of our story just as deeply as we needed Him while Caden was in the hospital. Although things seem less desperate, that doesn't mean we should be any less desperate for Him.
Just as our desperate need for God hasn't changed, I am also realizing today that He Himself hasn't changed.
The Jesus I need right now is the same Jesus I followed with eager anticipation and expectation while I carried Caden for nine months. The same God we followed into full-time ministry, and the same God who got us through the last year when we felt time and time again like giving up on our ministry. He is the same God we clung to while my son's heart was being operated on, the God who drew us near while we watched Caden's heart beating as he grappled for life. And He is the same God who will undoubtedly bring us through this as well. Who will refresh us and renew our strength when we haven't slept. Who will cover us with enough grace and mercy to handle each new day. Who continues to hold both our sweet Caden, and our entire family, in His loving arms.
There have been times, and I am certain there will continue to be times, in this journey when God seems obscured by the shadows of questions without answers and hurts without healing. And yet I am grateful even for those times because we are realizing that we serve a God who can handle our hurts and doubts. Who doesn't change even when we question who He is and what He's doing. Who doesn't mind when we yell and rant that this isn't fair, that Caden doesn't deserve all this hurt. Who Himself knows the sorrow of surrendering a son, and who only asks that we bring all our hurts and lay them at His feet.
“…in all these things we are more conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:37-39
My heart feels a strange combination of joy and hope, coupled with exhaustion and sadness in knowing everything our son has been through and continues to go through on a daily basis. I've been a little melancholy all day, looking at the road we're on and realizing that it is literally impossible for us to do this alone. It is impossible for us to force ourselves to feel optimistic, to stay on top of feeding schedules and medications and cleaning everything, to connect with each other, and to give Jayci the attention and love she needs and deserves. . . And thinking about all of that, I am struck by the realization that we need the Lord to carry us through this chapter of our story just as deeply as we needed Him while Caden was in the hospital. Although things seem less desperate, that doesn't mean we should be any less desperate for Him.
Just as our desperate need for God hasn't changed, I am also realizing today that He Himself hasn't changed.
The Jesus I need right now is the same Jesus I followed with eager anticipation and expectation while I carried Caden for nine months. The same God we followed into full-time ministry, and the same God who got us through the last year when we felt time and time again like giving up on our ministry. He is the same God we clung to while my son's heart was being operated on, the God who drew us near while we watched Caden's heart beating as he grappled for life. And He is the same God who will undoubtedly bring us through this as well. Who will refresh us and renew our strength when we haven't slept. Who will cover us with enough grace and mercy to handle each new day. Who continues to hold both our sweet Caden, and our entire family, in His loving arms.
“…in all these things we are more conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:37-39