Lessons partly finished.
Some not even started.
Just before lunch everything crumbles. I say I am not doing this anymore! If things don’t change around here by the end of this week, then we will be signing up at the local school. I wasn’t going to say that this year, but the words tumble out before I choose a soft answer to turn away wrath.
We chat over lunch.
I ask them what they think we should do.
My boy thinks we should have a family prayer meeting.
He prays, “Help us to find our joy, our kindness, our love that comes only from you.”
My daughter prays more for her mom than her own attitude, I think. ‘Help us not to raise our voices.” I had just determined a few hours before that I would keep a calm voice. I was told last week that I most likely have Irritable Larynx Syndrome. I looked up what I could do to minimize the symptoms and one of the things I read was: Avoid shouting/yelling. Do not raise your voice louder than normal conversational loudness.
I really didn't yell; it hurts too much, but it wasn’t exactly normal conversational loudness. It sure wasn't the tongue of the wise, anyway.
I wonder about my expectations and my own example! I recognize my own short-coming and failures and sin.
I tell them we are responsible for our own response regardless of others’ actions. This comes blaring back at me! Ouch!
I think on the verse “The joy of the Lord is my strength” as my sons prays for joy.
I pray that the Spirit will strengthen us to live in ways that honour God. It is beyond me. I need to be empowered by the Holy Spirit. To be filled with Him.
We get up from the table – the kids take off for some much needed fresh air. I retreat and read that I am not alone in this battle!
As my I turn out the lights for night, I tell my husband how I have blown it. I tell him how I have apologized and I am thankful for forgiveness and grace.
He reminds me tomorrow is a new day . . .
It is just after lunch on this new day. Just after we have arranged to go for a walk with our neighbour, that I get another call from the cardiologist. He has the results from the tests I had done last week.
I search for a piece of paper and a pen to jot down what he is about to tell me.
He tells me that my aortic valve is very narrow. A normal valve area should be between 2-3 and mine is about 0.7-0.8. I have done enough research to know this is not good.
I sit down on my bed.
He tells me normally the best thing would be to fix the valve, but in my case this is not an easy decision.
The fact that I only have one functioning lung because of the treatment I had from when I was ill with pediatric cancer. The fact that I am only 36. The fact that replaced valves don’t really last that long: 15 years tops. These things only complicate how they should proceed.
He tells me that he is not confident that doing surgery to fix the valve will alleviate my symptoms, but that my valve is only going to get worse. He says it should be done sooner than later.
I am to meet with a cardiovascular surgeon and have some more tests to determine where we go from here. I have been pacing the floor now, trying to take it all in, trying to ask the questions that I know I will have as soon as I hang up the phone.
He apologizes for having to tell me this. I thank him for carefully looking into everything.
I hang up.
Another call had come in as I was talking to the doctor. I call back the number that rang in. It is a lady from Church to ask me how I am doing, to tell me that she prays for me everyday just like I am family.
I finally let the tears fall. I haven’t had any time to process what I have just been told and she is the first one to give me a listening ear. She tells me God is using me in this.
I agree, God uses the weak.
I go for that walk with my neighbour and pour out my heart news to her.
She wonders how I can be so calm. I tell her I know that God is in control.
I know I can only go from here because, like the preacher said on Sunday, the antidote to fear is the assurance of God’s presence and protection.
Dinner is in the oven and I find myself pulling out ingredients to make a cake for desert. Maybe, I am looking for a reason to celebrate.
While the cake is baking, my neighbour sends me an email telling me that she was so glad we could go for that walk and that I am an incredibly strong person.
The truth is that the Lord is my strength.
When I am weak then He is strong.
The Joy of the Lord is my strength.
You will find the rest of the series, Write to Discover Yourself: My Story His Glory, here.
It is a series of posts of sharing what I am learning in Ruth Vaughn’s book, 'Write to Discover Yourself'.
It is a series of posts of sharing what I am learning in Ruth Vaughn’s book, 'Write to Discover Yourself'.
I am so thankful our strength comes from him! Thanks for sharing this story. I've been there.
ReplyDeleteThis is so touching! I love the prayers of your children & the Lord having a caring friend from church call you at the same time you are receiving such difficult news. He truly is our strength. Love & prayers, in Jesus, Cynthia
ReplyDelete