I feel as if I’m hunkering down in a trench, in the midst of a battle, and yet, I’m to do life right here. In this gritty and tiring place. There’s a battle raging around me, but I can’t just stop fighting, can’t stop living.
Even though my family is tired, and battered, and worn we’re rediscovering the wonderful of everyday. Of a gluten-free dinner where everyone can enjoy and eat together. Of times spent on the couch reading books with Samuel in the middle. Of laundry finished and waiting to be put away. Of trips to the dentist, or church, or Trader Joes.
I’d be lying if I told you that things weren’t hard. I see the worry in my Hannah and Chloe’s eyes when they are concerned over Samuel’s pallor. I feel the anxiety in my own heart when I look at my homeschool planner with the last full day checked off in early January. I hear the pain in Caleb’s voice when he cuddles with me at night and asks about why Sammy was in the hospital. I see a house that is a bit behind — in laundry, and cleaning, and chores — and know that it’s because I haven’t been home. I know the calendar is full of appointments, and I know the kids see them as well.
And that’s okay. That’s what I’m learning to expect. I don’t want to just sit in the pain part so I’ve been trying to embrace and find the beauty. The Lord has been good to me. He has blessed me beyond measure even in this place. Do I struggle with the “whys?” — absolutely. Many times throughout my day I release my earthly need to know why. Why gets me no where. It just made me focus on the ugliness rather than the beauty. So I’ve had to replace my need to know why. And gradually now I’m discovering that –