We had landed in Texas for my sister’s wedding. After finding our hotel and settling into our room, we made the call to my Mother In Law to check in on my baby.
Days leading up to this, I had been in that desperate state of decision. My precious daughter was sick, and I was leaving her to be in my sister’s wedding. This weekend was about my sister’s celebration. Her big day. It was about all of her family leaving their lives to be in hers. It’s what you do when you love someone.
But my baby was sick.
How do you make a decision like that? How do you wrestle between your baby and your sister’s most important day of her life?
I was a mess.
I knew how this unfolded… it already had turned downhill and I knew the speed and momentum it could take to go further. I hated leaving her behind, and I barely caught my breath every time I thought of her.
Anxious to have an update, we called as soon as we got in, and this is what my MIL has said. You must know that this woman is one of the few people that always always always has her heart in the right place. She knows my anxiety, my fears and above all that my leaving her was the hardest thing I have ever done. This makes her statement more profound, because she was scared and shared her concern with bold honesty…
Leaving no room for encouraging appeasement.
After we discussed all the medicines and breathing treatments and signs and symptoms that would ultimately get Cassidy to the hospital, I hung up the phone and began sobbing.
We frantically started to look up flights to get back home as soon as we could and forfeit this big day to the urgency of being with our “very sick little girl.”
Flights were either booked or atrociously expensive, so Derek and I sat in silence both trying to grasp what to do next. I paced…and cried…and held baby Cade while he slowly drifted off to sleep.
We decided we would check in first thing in the morning and take it from there.
From that moment on…through the long long long torturous night…
I laid awake and prayed.
I begged for healing. I pleaded for mercy. I cried for help. I clung to the sheets and trembled underneath as my heart never stopped pounding in my chest. I pictured my girl gasping for air and wondering where her mommy was. I envisioned the long dark hours grandma would hold her and rock her and put the mask on her red sweaty face. I imagine the fear they both had doing this all alone.
It was the longest night of my life.
The next morning I called her at 6:00am, terrified of what was to come on the other end of the phone.
“How is she?” I whispered with a rattled breath.
“She’s doing okay! It’s amazing how she just took this turn for the better last night. She’s still sick, but she slept some last night and it seems she is improving.”
I was floored. My entire body lifted into this new sphere of existence that sheer words cannot describe. I asked rounds of questions to both confirm and prove to myself that this was real. I told her I had been up all night praying…for a miracle.
“Well you got your miracle! She’s doing just fine. ”
I tell this story because it has been the sole focus of my last few weeks. Memories have this grip that seem to never truly let go.
That is the one traumatic trip I have to draw from, and it triggers both anxiety and peace at the same time. I have tried to let go of this memory, because the anxiety overwhelms me to go ‘there’ and take off on the runway of-
But as I write through this memory, I realize why God has retrieved it so strongly in my heart, my head…
My most unbearable “What if?” happened…
And He answered.
Perhaps I need to use this memory for what God intended.
For me to have Faith in Him.
God is here.
Even if the unbearable “What if?” happens…
I am leaving my children, for the first time since this fateful trip. For fourteen years, Derek has traveled to countless beautiful cities for work in various jobs, while I stayed home to care for the kids. This time? It’s Prague. And because my man knows what is most important in this life, he has convinced me that I should go with him. This will be our first trip together, away from both kids.
Oh. My. Heart.
The stakes are high.
The playing field now has two children.
The respiratory virus that has left countless kids in the hospital is furiously spreading through the air.
Between the two of my children, there is a literal spreadsheet with maps and dates and times of events, practices, games, clubs, drops offs, pick ups, and a relentless schedule my precious MIL will endure.
And the biggest chip of all in this gamble?
We are leaving the country.
Far far away…
For a week.
So my list of “What if?”s is long and gritty. Many of which are unbearable…
The imagination knows no bounds. Anxiety feeds it and launches it into soaring heights…
So I will hold on to that memory.
The one where God came through…
I’m scared, so very scared to leave my safe world here- full of comfort in what’s known, going out into the unknown. My anxiety is rearing its ugly head as I near the time of departure, and I frantically pace and pack and plead for it all to go smoothly. I’ve gone over the week’s schedule in full detail, mapping out each day and all the intricacies of our full life are left to the schools, my friends, and my precious MIL.
It’s a lot.
And as I am stepping into fear and taking off to a far away land, where I know nothing… Where there will be no familiar ground to go on…
I’ll look for footing in my faith.
I’ll find comfort in knowing that God has already planned this trip and every day that it entails. I’ll find assurance knowing that all the “what ifs” are already written and the answers already given. I’ll find solace in knowing that when I begin to peel away my grip, one finger at a time…
His Hand holds on.