Place all your trust in Him

There is a little book by my bed. It is the Magnificat and as tiny as it is, it can be the greatest comfort to me. It also never ceases to amaze me that God speaks to me so directly at times through the words within this little magazine.

Six months ago, Anna had a seizure. She had come into bed with me at some point during the night, and as Tony had just started a school where he would be gone during the week, I did not mind the company. As daylight was just starting to dissolve the darkness outside, I became aware that she was having a seizure. Adrenal pumping, I talk to her, knowing that she won't hear me, letting her know she is not alone. As soon as it is over, I call 911. The EMT's arrive and because Anna is frightened by them, they let the hospital know we are on our way in our own car.

The outcome of this event is a normal EEG and the neurologist decides to "wait and see" before starting any medications. The other effects of this night are emotional. I am filled with fear that I will lose another child to epilepsy. I pull out the baby monitor and set it up near her bed, the volume loud enough to detect her breathing. It has been there for the last 6 months. Sunday night, I had been asleep for about an hour when my body was jolted awake by the horrid sounds coming from the baby monitor. I knew. I ran into her room and witnessed the last 15 seconds of a full blown seizure. This time, the doctor decides that it is time for medication. Today, I will start giving Anna the same seizure medicine that Ben took for the last 3 years of his life. That bottle will once again be placed next to the kitchen sink, lest I forget a dose.

Back to my little book. Monday night, as exhausted as I was, I almost talked myself out of my evening readings, rationalizing that God knew just how tired I was. But I opened it anyway. As I started the Intercessions, I knew God was right there beside me, holding me, letting me know I am not alone during this trying time:

For all parents who sit at the sickbed of their children:
-be their strength and hope, O Lord. R: You are light and life.

For all parents who have stood at their children's graveside:
-be their strength and hope, O Lord. R: You are light and life.

Then last night, I read the meditation of the day. Once again, God spoke right to me, through my little bedside companion. The bold is what I felt God wanted me to understand and know.

"Do you want to be well?"

I will not ask God to deliver you from your trials, but I will ask him earnestly to give you the patience and strength needed to suffer as long as he desires. Find consolation in him who keeps you fixed to the cross; he will release you when he judges it appropriate. Happy are they who suffer with him. Get used to suffering, and ask him for the strength to suffer as he wants, and for as long as he judges necessary. The worldly do not understand these truths, and I am not surprised; the reason is that they suffer as citizens of this world and not as Christians. They consider illnesses as natural afflictions and not as graces from God, and therefore they find in them only what is difficult and harsh for our nature. But those who regard them as coming from the hand of God, as signs of his mercy and the means he uses for their salvation, ordinarily find great sweetness and perceptible consolations in them.

I wish you were convinced that God is often closer to us in times of sickness and suffering than when we enjoy perfect health. Seek no other doctor but him. I think he wants to cure you by himself. Place all your trust in him, and you will soon experience the benefits we resisit when we trust more in medical remedies than in God.

Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection

I will try to keep these things close to my heart, for I know that I will have moments of fear and sadness in the coming days and weeks.