My Rug Is On the Rock

The image in this entry is from March 2013. I posted it on Facebook with this description:

“Adding to our list of unplanned weekly activities... Face plant bloody nose scab followed by green boogies, s'mores stick burning eyeball, and throw-up all night long. But the thing is, we wanted this. We prayed for years for this. And now we have this. We have kids. Bring it on.”

I'm not quite so quick to "love" the combination of sickness and suffering these days. We haven't had a well week since before Thanksgiving. Including this week, 2 more went down today. I'm having a hard time holding it together, because every time I think we're starting to turn the corner, the rug I didn't even know I was standing on gets yanked out from underneath me.

I DID pray for this. I wasn't sure if I'd ever have the chance to be frustrated by all my kids being sick, because I wasn't sure if I would ever have kids. I DO want all the things that come with having a family of 5000 (OK, just 7 of us). I relentlessly treasure every moment, because I know that even the hard ones will be missed when they're gone. Even though I don't want any of this, I want all of this, ya know?

But somehow this season is silently killing me. Spaced out like cars in traffic that never make quite enough of an opening to get through. The stress of trying to get where I'm going, the stress of everyone waiting for me as I don't make my turn, the stress of believing and hoping and pulling myself together each time only to be shoved back down the stairs to start over...

My Bible reading last night took me to the story of the woman with the flow of blood for 12 years (Mark 5:25-34). I have taught from and treasured every lesson I could possibly find in this story for many many years. Last night I was freshly struck by verse 26: "she had suffered many things from many physicians. She had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew worse." It just. Kept. Getting. Worse. And she kept trying--many physicians! But it just got worse. And now she was at the end, no more money, no more hope, and it just continued its downward spiral.

And yet, verse 27, as soon as she heard about Jesus, she went right after it. She believed that He could heal her. She believed she could be better. I don't know how many hours or days or months or years she spent crying or ranting or hopeless, telling God exactly what she thought about His plan to NOT heal her, wondering why in the world everybody else gets to be walking around but she lives in a hopeless state of unending suffering. Maybe she had all the faith all the time. I just know I wouldn't have had all faith all the time. But in this moment, she had faith. She tried again, believed again, hoped again, reached out for Him.

Today I have quite a list of things that leave me hopeless and feeling like it can't possibly get worse, except that everyday I wake up and yep it did indeed get worse. It seems silly to be so knocked over by sickness, but it's one of the places the enemy can always get me. Silly as the situation is, I somehow feel like I might not have anymore hope in my reserves. I feel pretty tapped out. I've spent a lot of hope this time and I'm just not sure I have anymore.

But last night I felt prompted by the Lord to do like the woman did--keep trusting Him, keep believing Him.

Just because it keeps getting worse doesn't mean He won't heal it.

Todd and I prayed the other night, and his prayer was, "Lord, here we are in the valley of the shadow of death again. But here You are again."

I still believe today. Even though the stupid rug got yanked out from under me and now I gotta go find it and unroll it. Even though nothing around me indicates any hope of it getting better. Even though fool me once shame on you fool me twice shame on me and I'm about 46 episodes of "fool me" down this road. Even though it's too late. Even though it's worse since I prayed. Even though even though even though...

So many shadows cast over our lives, big and small. But He also casts a shadow, and it's meant for my protection, for my refuge, for my hope. He IS where my help comes from, and I DO believe that He is coming. I do KNOW that He is faithful.

I will yet believe, even if I have to drag my weary busted heart behind me like a toddler having an uncontrollable fit. As for me and my house, my heart, we WILL trust the Lord.

I wish with all of my heart that none of us had to stand on the stupid rug! But this rug is the life we have until we get to the feast of the Lamb, so my rug is on the Rock. I let Him comfort me and wipe away today's tears until the day He wipes them all away for good. And gives me a beautiful new Heaven rug to stand on...