Friday, December 11, 2015

The Last Mile's The Hardest

This girl's tenacity and determination never fail to awe me. She's a champion.

"How's it going with Oona?" I get asked this a lot. The answer is: "it's complicated."

I look back on the last 10 weeks with a mixture of pride and shock - "yeah, we did this!" And, "Oh my gosh, how are still we doing this?"

To be honest, we're having an especially hard week as I write this, which may be the reason I feel like I need to write, which conflicts me because I don't want to just write when things are bad. I don't want to give the impression that it's ALL been bad. There's been a lot of grace. There's been a lot of incredibly powerful, wonderful lessons learned. There's been some empowerment, and a lot of being broken and humbled.

But there is some bad. Lately, Oona's been suffering a lot, and it's hard to join her in that while not being able to do anything to really help. She can't sleep. We're woken up several times a night to screams of mighty frustration as an itch or cramp tortures her. Sometimes a little soothing gets her back to sleep. Other times it's so bad her body is rigid and tense, and she won't relax for hours. There's a constant wondering of "could we be doing something different to make it better?" To give her ibuprofen with her tylenol or not? Are we doing her pillows the best way? Should we give her the bottle she's demanding that she really doesn't need? Do we let her cry for an hour, or get her up so everyone else in the house can sleep? Matt and I are extremely exhausted, and it brings out the worst in us.

When I'm REALLY tired, I start getting irrational. I feel it creeping up on me, the way you start to feel icky when a cold or flu is coming on. I get jealous of people I love. I get bitter about how unfair things seem. I get snappy and impatient when I should be gentle and understanding. I get extremely anxious that everything important around me is going to fall apart, and it will all be my fault. I start irrationally feeling like everyone is counting on me to meet their needs, and I don't have enough of myself left to give to anyone, and all is hopeless.

We've got 18 days left with the cast. We're in the last stretch, yet these next two and a half weeks feel insurmountable to me in this moment. So I'm trying to be really intentional about inviting Jesus into this weakness, even as my sinfulness and anxiety rapidly try to erect walls of self-dependence in an attempt to keep Him out. Funny after all these years, and all that my brain knows about needing Jesus when we're weak - it's when I'm weak that I seem to continually shut Him out. "It's my problem. I can fix it myself if I do a,b and c..." My heart has a hard time trusting and believing that He'll walk beside me, that He is who He says He is.

18 days left, and I'm trying to embrace them with hope and faith in the promises of God, instead of wishing them away.

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