Not Home Yet

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I’ll set the scene. Home cooked meal, the smell of melted butter on a roll, prayers of thankfulness for the bounty before us have been spoken. One chocolate grin from Doo across from momma enjoying stacking chicken on her fork. One Baby Bee asking for more pickles (but they’re really green beans)…and my Bug with a brief smile at the sight of those she loves sitting together laughing and enjoying one another.  It doesn’t last. She seizes. Every single time we sit down to eat together. Every. Single. Time. We have never had a meal as a family that doesn’t involve Bug seizing. Not in years.

I won’t lie. My heart breaks and I become angry, bitter and filled with deep sadness all in that one moment. Are we never going to be able to sit as a family and just have nothing but happy laughter? Will I ever not have to contain my sorrow for the other two little sets of eyes staring at me in sadness and disappointment? Will my husband and I ever be able to just relax and treasure the preciousness of our children as they swing little legs at the table?

It’s ongoing loss. It does not have an end in sight. It nags at your spirit in such a big, powerful way. You grieve what you hoped for, what you wished for, what you wanted for your child…and it happens all in an instant. Like you’ve been sucker punched in the gut. It doesn’t linger all day…but it aches in a way that words can’t describe.  It’s but a fleeting moment of sorrow.

These moments don’t mean that you’ve lost your faith. They don’t mean that you don’t trust Christ with every fiber of your being. They don’t mean that you don’t love the beautiful miracle sitting there in your embrace after the seizure. They don’t mean that you don’t have indescribable joy within. They also don’t mean that you don’t have moments of pure and simple fun with your blessings. These moments remind me that I’m not home yet.  I’m just not home yet.

I’m human. I can’t even try to hide the fact or lie that I don’t daily pray that my girl will be healed on this side of heaven. I won’t lie or fake or pretend that some days I just question why…and not always in a soft spoken simple question…more like yelling to God, WHY??? I believe my great and mighty Jesus experienced more than I’ll ever be able to speak about when it comes to agony and questioning God…so I believe He knows how deeply I love Him and trust Him even when I question and doubt. It isn’t my job to know the why. He reminds me over and over of this simple fact. HE KNOWS WHY. That has to be enough for this momma until I am home.

So this isn’t home. I long for home. I long to be sitting at King Jesus’ table and seeing my girl in all her glory no longer seizing. I cling to that picture. The moment where she is able to speak for the first time ever to her Savior, to dine with Him fully healed from seizures. Where I no longer see suffering in the beautiful miracle God gave me .

Until I am home I will treasure my girls and all the moments of happy I am given. Those moments far outweigh the sorrow. Truly.  

 

I felt like I wanted to pour this out…because I know there are so many of you mommas out there grieving the might have been, the what if’s, the agony of loss and of ongoing sorrow…and you’re not alone. My only question for you is are you walking the road alone? Do you know my Jesus? He alone is able to return my spirit of joy so quickly, He alone is the one who can calm my spirit and remind me that my daughter is HIS, He alone is the one who forgives me when I begin to forget that she is His…

Don’t do this alone. He loves you. With a greater love than I am able to convey…and He longs for you. We aren’t home yet. I know where I am going…and what is ahead of me when I go home. Do you?

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. Hebrews 13:14