It's Been a Decade
Some memories are sharper than others…
February 9th, 2014 was my 29th birthday and Nathan was in the middle of a 7 consecutive week run in the ICU, for most of which he was intubated. About 80% of his 4 months had been spent in hospitals and he had already undergone several surgeries of increasing intensity. This stay was, quite literally, a fight for his life and the questions about quality of life were (understandably and appropriately) met by Dr’s with vague answers, no promises and even uncomfortable and compassionate murmurs of “IF he makes it past 2….”
That year, my birthday fell on a snowy Sunday. I remember waking that morning and staring blankly out of the ICU window into the thick, cold, grey, relentless snow of an Ohio February. The only thing more bleak was my heart as I called Jonny, cried and then let him go so that he could take care of Madison (not yet two) and then get to church…. It was, after all, a Sunday.
I’m not sure how much time passed, but it couldn’t have been too long before a dear friend from church showed up with coffee and a muffin. Jonny had texted or called or something…. And despite the fact that she was a night nurse, she rerouted her morning and showed up saying,”You can’t be here alone on your birthday. I’m going to stay with you until Jonny can come.” And she did.
It’s been a decade.
A decade feels weighty, substantial. You start to feel as though you’ve had enough time with a thing to begin to be able to take it for what it is.
Apert Syndrome no longer shocks me. The sheer magnitude of appointments, bills, specialists, claims, interventions, medications have found their way into our “normal." For the most part, we’ve come to terms with the disproportionate way they affect our lives and no longer entertain the “what ifs” or compare our story to So-and-So.
Apert Syndrome does still grieve me. After a decade, it does not fill my heart the way it once did. My heart has expanded as I have come to understand that grief will always have a space in my heart. The grief is no longer overwhelming…. It is no longer frantic…. it is no longer on the surface. A decade has taught me the importance of rhythmically, honestly and deeply engaging the underlying grief and that its existence does not snuff out the beauty. Many times it’s more pointed now, stealing my breathe and plummeting my heart without warning. Usually it's an honest question or innocent comment from Nathan himself that rushes the sadness to the forefront. Time has given me the opportunity to recognize it for what it is and what it is not…. Grief is not disappointment, it’s not wishing for something else…. A decade has taught me that grief is aching in a brokenness that you will learn to navigate but never escape on this side of eternity.
A decade is long enough to learn about people, too. Yes, kids can be cruel but they can also be unbelievably kind. Most people will never fully understand but some people don’t have to fully understand to love fully. Some people will accept your limits and others will push them - both can be an expression of love. Many will exclude you, some will include you and a few will truly be a friend. The churches we have been a part of have each loved us differently and loved us well. A Proverb from the Bible says “There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” Jonny, myself and our family have been sheltered in the love of these kinds of friends for over a decade.
A decade is long enough to see patterns and long enough to learn about seasons. The greatest pattern is God’s faithfulness. He has been faithful in each and every season. A decade is long enough to walk through the unimaginable on both ends of the spectrum. Our eyes have been dry from crying and wet with tears of joy. We have sent texts and prayers of desperation and texts and prayers of rejoicing. We have stared in disbelief in the best and worst of ways. In each season, the pattern of God’s faithfulness has and continues to give us a reason to hope.
A decade is long enough to storm the gates of heaven with questions, to run away angry, and to learn to love the gift of surrendering to a totally sovereign and totally good God. There is a fire that burned so many dreams and desires to the ground and to be honest, there are spots it smolders still. There is a fire that is scorching out my bent towards false securities and lesser loves. There is a fire blazing in my soul to know Christ more deeply, more intimately. A decade has taught me that those fires are one and the same.
A decade can simultaneously feel like a long time and like just the beginning. I think it is fair to say that after a decade I have fewer answers but the ones that I have I am more deeply sure of. I don’t know the plot line. I do know that I am thankful for a decade of memories. Above all, I am thankful for God's faithfulness and know with certainty that he will be faithful in every season of the decade to come.
What is to come?
Nathan has appointments with Dr. Fearon on Monday, February 19th to determine if major craniofacial surgery will be needed this year. The following Monday (Feb 26th) he is already scheduled for outpatient surgery with a maxillary surgeon. We covet your prayers for clear medical direction with Dr. Fearon, unity for Jonny and me, a safe procedure and for patience and endurance during recovery.
Wow! Your heart & your faith are truly inspiring. "A decade has taught me the importance of rhythmically, honestly and deeply engaging the underlying grief and that its existence does not snuff out the beauty." ... Some of the most provocative words I've read. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDelete'A decade is long enough to storm the gates of heaven with questions, to run away angry, and to learn to love the gift of surrendering to a totally sovereign and totally good God.'
ReplyDeleteThis piece is profoundly meaningful for anyone in a season of waiting. Thank you!