Many of you are aware I've been focused on taking care of my mother. She took care of me until I moved out of the house at eighteen. And even then, she stepped in during critical times of my life when injuries and surgeries rendered me incapable of caring for myself and my family.
It's what family does.
I won't bore you with all the medical details for that in and of itself is a tome to rival War and Peace.
A little over two weeks ago, while she was in a rehab facility, she went into respiratory failure. I was visiting at the time and witnessed my dear mother suffocating. There were several times during that day where we thought she was going to die. Let me tell you, watching someone struggle for breath is worse than the most frightening scene from a horror movie. Mom and I are traumatized from that event.
While she was in critical condition, things were touch and go. And peace eluded me. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I trembled like a leaf. All while wondering if THAT phone call would come in the middle of the night.
I'd been there before in 2021. That 3AM call from the hospital telling me she was headed into an emergency surgery she had only a ten percent chance of surviving. Try falling asleep after a call like that.
To add to the trauma heap, my dad died in 2020. Not from Covid, but from cruel neglect at the hand of the hospital because they thought they'd be overwhelmed by Rona patients. In spite of our prayers and determination to submit to the sovereignty of God and choosing hope... he died. Cruelly and alone. My sister was allowed in at the last moment, but until then? He was alone and didn't know why since lockdowns happened a week after he was admitted.
Ever since then, I've struggled to trust God. From my earthly perspective He let me down. He let my mom and dad down. My dad was a Godly man who served the Lord with everything. To great sacrifice. It didn't make sense to my grieving mind.
So when all this stuff went down with my mom, I was a wreck. The stress drove me to poor eating habits and I went into adrenal fatigue, developed T2 diabetes, and my autoimmune thyroid condition raged out of control. And I got mad. Mad at God. Here we go again. Was He going to string me along, wanting me to throw all my trust in Him while he let my mom suffer and ultimately die?
Something had to change and that was me. I couldn't change the circumstances no matter how long I sat at the hospital asking questions, scanning medical records making sure they didn't miss anything.
After nearly two months of this, here's where I'm at.
God IS in control. I don't know what He sees or what His plans are. I'd be a fool to presume I know and that will only cause deeper distress.
I'm learning that Fatih isn't defined by my desires or what I want. It also isn't a means of manipulating God into enacting my will. Faith is dependent solely on knowing who God is and knowing God. Period. It's believing with all my heart that He is good. He is faithful. God's perfect plan was to take my dad home to Him. My dad is fully healed in heaven, face to face with his Savior, Jesus Christ. Dad has missed out on the decline of the America he so loved and wished he could have fought for. (God had other plans during Vietnam.)
When faced with losing my only remaining parent and half of my family (both parents were/are only children - no aunts, uncles, or cousins. I only have my sister and mother left.), I struggled.
God has allowed so much suffering in my life and in the life of my family. So. Much. So why would I expect Him to do anything other than cause more pain and loss in my already difficult life? That's the track record. And it's scary. So scary to trust.
But I have to. If I didn't, I'd lose my mind. I'd probably do something really stupid that would inflict pain on those that love and care for me. But I have Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit in me. This world is not my home. It broke when Adam and Eve sinned. That's why all the horrible things happen. The world and everything in it is BROKEN.
HOPE. Hope is Jesus Christ. Hope is knowing that if we submit to the Lordship of Christ, we will spend eternity with him. It also means we will spend eternity with our loved ones who gave their lives to Christ. The comfort comes in knowing the separations are TEMPORARY. When we are in heaven, suffering and grief can't touch us.
Here's where the peace comes in. Peace comes in knowing what I shared above. Does it take away the pain, the anxiety over how things are? The horrors of seeing someone I love suffer?
No. But I can weather them.
My mother always says, faith wouldn't be faith if it were easy.
"Faith wouldn't be faith if it were easy." - Jeanne L. Yetter
The conclusion? Real faith and peace isn't fluffy and sparkly. It's not giggly and wiggly. It doesn't smell like lilacs either. It's dirty. It's blood-soaked and smells like poop and vomit. It HURTS. It hurts sooooooooo much.
The Peace that Passes All Understanding is the assurance that in the end, we who have placed our faith and trust in Jesus Christ will spend eternity with Him.
I chose to trust the One True God. I cannot control anything. I surrender everything. And it hurts.
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