Life After the PICU

Haven’t read about our hospital journey this spring?  You can still visit our CaringBridge page any time here.

 

I haven’t written a blog post in a long time.  Not because “nothing” is going on, but because I just don’t have anything to say.  Not because there is nothing to say… but because there’s too much, and not really all the right words to express it.  I’m not political.  I didn’t used to get into “current events,” and now I really don’t.  Perhaps because my world goes so much deeper than whichever politician someone chooses to bash at the moment.  Because I have been changed.  Because I still think about the kids and the parents and the nurses and the doctors every single day.  I wonder who is there now, and what they are going through.  I wonder if there is some small way I could help.  And I feel.  Deeply.  Madly.  I love my kids more than I could have ever possibly before.  I treasure every. single. moment.  I find myself wishing there weren’t so many fights, of course.  I find myself wishing I didn’t have to discipline, sure.  Not every moment is perfect and treasurable.  But yet, it IS treasurable – simply because I have them.  All three of them.  Here with me on Earth.   Every moment is a blessing – a gift that I’ve somehow been granted.

They are growing and healthy and ALIVE.  And I now know what that means.  What is REALLY means.  Because I feel the pain of those who have lost.  And I know how easily I could be one of them.  So I stand beside them and I pray for the right words to bring comfort.  I pray for the knowledge of when to be silent, and when to speak.  And I treasure the little moments on their behalf.  Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what life would be like if April and May had never happened.  Would I really soak it all in?  Would I resent dirty diapers and having to teach her the difference between right and wrong?  I think of all the friends I have now and the amazing people whom I have met that I wouldn’t even know existed.  And I think of all the work God has done in my heart and how He has strengthened my faith, and I can begin to see a glimpse of the purpose in all of it.  And I am finally to the point where I’m grateful.  Grateful for the pain.  Grateful for the terror.  Grateful for the countless nights of lost sleep.  Grateful for life.  

So when I see someone ahead of me in traffic cut someone off because they almost missed their exit, I wonder what is happening in their life.  I wonder if they even realized they cut someone off, or if in the fog that is their world, they just went where they needed to go because they are robotically going through the motions and just barely surviving moment to moment.  I’ve been there.  And I wonder how many people I may have cut off in traffic without even seeing them.  How many accidents my angels prevented  – how many cracks in the sidewalk I never tripped on, how many playground mishaps the bigs never had… because God was working on a much bigger plan in my life.  

No, it isn’t that I’ve had nothing to write.  It’s just that right now I’m seeing a bigger picture than I’ve ever fathomed, and it’s hard to see the world like other people.  You could say God gave me a teensy tiny nibble of a morsel from an apple from the tree of knowledge, and I’m still processing it.  He’s still teaching me from it.  He decides when we’re ready for that knowledge, and sometimes I still don’t think it’s fair that I had to take that nibble.  I don’t think it’s fair that mamas and daddies have to go through such immeasurable sorrow that we have witnessed in friends.  This life is certainly not fair.  But I’m starting to maybe get a glimpse of the truth – that the purpose behind each and every moment for each and every person is so much bigger than we’ll ever comprehend.  

I guess it’s just that my life right now is so much bigger than who is or isn’t president, or what some policy is on something, or what happened in someone’s past that does or doesn’t make them eligible for a job.  Not that those things aren’t important, but right now my brain is processing at so much deeper of a level that I just can’t focus on that stuff.  I have three kids and a job and medical bills that roll in every month like clockwork.  I have a house to keep decent for realtor showings and the stress of trying to find a new place for our family.  I need to help get homework done and communication journals signed and books read and letters learned and pen pal letters written and bottles made and diapers changed, oh and chase a very mobile baby.  Those things?  They are everything.  And yes, I’m thankful for those mundane, exhausting tasks.  Because they remind me I’m alive and that He has placed me here with a purpose.  They wear me out.  They wear me thin.  They threaten to shift my attitude on a daily basis.  But something stops me every day and causes me to pause and realize my focus.

I’ve lived on the mountain.  I’ve been in the valley.  And right now I’m relishing the climb.  It’s hard work.  Every day is a different struggle with new rocks to step over and boulders to crawl across.  I know that this climb back up the mountain is not my last climb.  We’ll fall down again.  But just like every time before, He will pick us up and set us right, and begin the climb again.  We don’t make this climb alone.  And we won’t make the next one alone, either.  

 

 

Author: travelwchristy

I am a work-at-home travel agent who is mom to two beautiful children, a wife to a fabulous man, and blessed beyond compare!