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So, my hand is not much better. Awesome. Not writing is really getting to me. I thought I would pull something out of the archives I wrote not so long ago. It's nothing fancy or very formal. It just seems fitting. Sorry... it's sort of long.
Also, Lynlee is doing better. Praise the Lord. She is out of ICU and hopefully won't have to stay in Children's much longer. Thanks for your prayers.)
A thought occurred to me the other day. These days we’re living in are scary and uncertain. I hear it every day from the news to friends to the internet… the economic crisis, the plunge of morality, sickness, and death. People predict doom and gloom to my left and right. So, why am I not panicking? Fear fills the hearts of so many, and while I am certainly concerned, I’m not fearful.
Don’t get me wrong. I have my days of frustration. Three kids. A husband. Responsibilities. Guilt from every angle. Never feeling good enough. Smart enough. Pretty enough. My inability to meet the expectations of others. These are my constant struggles. But always, at the end of the day, I can take a deep breath and know it’s all ok.
And this is the thought that occurred to me.
When I was around eight months pregnant with Jeb, I went in for my twice weekly NST (non-stress test). During these NSTs, the nurse would hook me up to a machine and monitor Jeb’s heartbeat for usually thirty minutes since he was considered a high risk pregnancy. On this particular visit, the NST machine could not detect a heartbeat. The nurse had me drink cold drink water, move side to side, walk the halls, and still, no detectable heartbeat. I could see the growing concern in her face and hear the anxious whispers outside the door when she stepped out to advise my doctor. They whispered a long time. Too long.
Finally my doctor walked in and calmly told me that I was being moved upstairs to the hospital’s maternity floor for an ultrasound. I was to go immediately.
I knew I needed to call Matt and tried to come up with the easiest way to tell him, “They can’t find a heartbeat.” I couldn’t think of any. He hurried to the hospital, terrified. But when he got there… when he saw me, he was confused to say the least. To his utter shock, I was completely calm. Absolutely no panic. No fear. Actually, a little put out with all the fuss. 100% certain everything was going to be fine.
See, with all the machines and testing and looks of fear and anxiousness and concern, I had one big thing going for me. I could feel him moving inside of me. And though the professionals were telling me there was no heartbeat, a kick here and a flip-flop there told me different. He was moving. I didn’t care that a machine said his little heart wasn’t beating. I knew better. I could feel him.
And I think that’s how those of us who know God make it through hard times. When everyone else is falling apart, fearing the uncertainty of the future, finding death and destruction around every corner, living a life without hope, we don’t have to. When Grandma died and I felt my world crash down all around me, had I not felt Him inside, I believe I’d still be curled up in a ball in the corner of a some dark room. Or when post partum depression threatened to take over my life, robbing me of the joy of my sweet babies, had I not felt Him inside, I would have never completely fought my way out of that terrifying pit.
I know the sorrows and fears of this life are many. And I pray I can steer clear of as many as possible. But when they do come, how incredible is it that we don’t have to panic. We don’t have to be afraid. Even when others are screaming, "It's time to be scared!" and turning on the sirens, we just have to be still, close our eyes, and just feel Him move.
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