You know that feeling that you've done this before? I've never liked that feeling. Sometimes it makes me think that I must be on the road I am supposed to be travelling, else I wouldn't have this feeling. Other times, it seems like an omen. This is the superstitious part of my brain, for I KNOW that only God knows the path He has laid before me, should I choose to follow Him. Knowing that doesn't make it especially appealing to set out on that journey. Just look at the lives of those who have. Yes, they are in Heaven, but the road was not easy or pretty in most cases. I admit to being a bit of a wimp. Really, who wants to take the hard way to do something?
This past week has been spiritually, mentally, and physically challenging. I guess honestly I should add that it has been religiously challenging too. It all started with a cold. We all got one, even my husband who swears he never gets sick. On Thursday night, things took a more serious turn and my anxious side reared its ugly head.
Tony and I had a rare moment alone after all the kids were in bed, straightening up the downstairs together before heading to bed for the night. In a tender gesture, he held me close and promised that everything will be OK. How ironic, for as we ascended the steps, I went to the kids room to check on them one last time and to bless them as I like to do each night. I found Anna huddled in her bed, shivering so badly I at first thought she was having a seizure. Burning with fever, I carried her to my room while Tony got a cold washcloth and some medicine. Her breathing was short and rapid. Every time I touched the cloth to her forehead, her body shook terribly. Tony is the not-panicker in our house. So when he told me quietly, but firmly to go the nearest ER, I obeyed. I grabbed my Magnificat and shoved it in my purse, knowing I could be in for a long night.
They got us right back into an exam room, which I found pleasantly surprising. We then did have to wait some time to be seen. I opened the Magnificat. (My lenten promise to myself was to read all the readings for each day, as most days I only do the evening ones.)
"Be a rock of refuge for me,
a mighty stronghold to save me,
for you are my rock, my stronghold.
For your name's sake, lead me and guide me."
Isn't it just lovely and comforting when God speaks so clearly to us?
"Help me, who am alone and have no help but you, O LORD."
I could just imagine His embrace, as I sat there beside Anna.
"Let my words reach your ears, Lord; listen to my groaning, and hear the cry of my prayer, O my King, my God."
"Not again, Lord," were my words. "I don't want to lose another child," was my groaning. "Please don't let this be my cup of suffering," was my prayer.
"HAVE NO ANXIETY at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
I am trying to have no anxiety, but it is hard. You see, Ben had pnuemonia just a month before he died. That was Anna's diagnosis Thursday night. Jack was 7 months old the day we lost Ben. Therese will be 7 months old soon. I have had dreams this week of my friend who helped me so lovingly in those first days after the tragedy. An ambulance was parked beside my car as I came out of the pharmacy to get Anna's medicine. I place all this at the feet of Jesus, and ask that He help me have no anxiety, but only the trust in our Father's perfect design for each of us.