learning to not worry.

Samuel was sleeping for almost four hours.

It was his afternoon nap, his usual long afternoon nap that he loves to take, that he actually asks to take. I had just returned from the Orthopedic Clinic and Whole Foods where I bought sorghum flour to make just one more batch of gluten free cookies with. Within minutes of coming in Todd questioned me about Samuel.

Is it normal for him to sleep this much?

A simple question, really. Yet, for me, the mother of a little boy who ran undiagnosed fevers for nine months prior to being diagnosed with Celiac Disease it was an unsettling question. I normally wonder about things, but when Todd starts to wonder about health stuff I pay attention. I remember, two days before Samuel was admitted to the hospital, sitting at the table and Todd telling me that he was worried about Samuel because he knew something wasn’t right.

Um, yeah, I replied quickly, his doctor told me it will take years for his immune system to get to where it needs to be and he’ll probably need extra sleep.

That was all my husband needed to hear. He was good, he trusted me, he trusted Samuel’s doctor, and he was okay for the moment. He told me to watch it and keep track of the hours.  But, not me. I let that little bit of worry start to gnaw away at the mother bear in me. A quick facebook/tweet asking how much a two year old slept was next. Then the watching of the time — pondering how he could sleep that much. Then the google search. Sigh, the google search which I warn people not to do. And I did it.

I crept up to his room, and opened the door the stealth like quiet way that I’ve mastered and looked in. He was peaceful. Sleeping with his arm tucked around his John Deere blanket. I watched him and then quick touched his forehead to make sure he didn’t have a fever. He hasn’t had one for months — compared to the 3week cycle he was on before. And yet, there it was again.

Worry.

I came out of the room and sat down at the top of the stairs with my head in my hands.

I cannot live in worry.

I cannot allow a question about him and his health create anxiety and fear.

I simply must look at how good he’s doing. At his energy, spunk, and zest for life. At his appetite. And how quickly he got over a cold — when a cold last year would have resulted immediately in croup.

When I worry, I pray. I pray that I am reminded of the good. I pray that the cloud of worry is removed from my vision and that I can rest in the health that he has now. I pray for peace for my heart, and faith for the future. And I thank Jesus for the healthy little boy who climbs, and plays, and laughs throughout my day.

I want to walk into his room and not fear that he has a fever.

So when I walk up the stairs, I pray for a healthy, smiling Samuel to greet me.

Today, when he finally woke up at 5:48 pm I ran up to his room. As I picked up my little fighter, my Samuel, in my arms, I asked him how his sleep was.

Good, mamma, good.

As I hugged his sweet little body and walked down the stairs, the same stairs I sat praying on an hour before, I let that worry slip away.  He’s good, he’s good.

Thank you, Jesus, for today, and for the vibrant little boy who just happens to need a great deal of sleep. Thank you.