I’m not quite sure where to start this post, or how to
finish. The only problem with
letting too much time slip by between posts is that so much accumulates to
write about that when I finally find time to write, it all jams up in my head
and pours out in uncomfortable ways like our backed-up drain system has been
doing recently. Soon I find myself
with a wet basement, piles of dirty laundry and I’m dumping my dishwater on the
wilting morning glories that still refuse to bloom. See! I told you
it gets confusing!
As many doctor’s appointments as we’ve been to in the last
several months it’d be nice to say that we know what is going on with Ian’s
illness. It’d be nice to say that
we know what we’re facing. It’d be
nice to at least say we have a diagnosis.
The only thing I can truly say is that we’re still experiencing God’s
grace in our lives, and this is beautiful.
If
God gives me more years of life to live, I pray that when I look back on our
first year of marriage, I will remember grace.
My
sister Martha was here the beginning of August for a short visit and I asked
her to create a painting for me. I
had an idea in my mind for a while and I wanted to see if Martha could create
it with paint for me. Of course
she did ‘cause she’s good like that!
This
painting represents much of what I feel every day. When I look at life it seems like dark, black clouds are
hanging over us drenching us with rain.
My heart wants to run. It
wants to hide. It wants safety. It wants light and not darkness. It wants life and the ability to
breathe. But instead, God is
helping my heart to find beauty in the clouds and even in the storm. When the thunders of the unknown boom,
I am learning the boldness of trust.
When the lightning snaps its surprise I am learning the patience of
taking each surprise with hope.
And the rain, oh the rain.
I’m learning that so much of it is in my perspective. I can reach my hand out and say it stings,
I’ll be drenched, it pounds and it pours!
Or, I can look at each precious drop as a gift from God. I see the softening effect it has on my
hard heart. I see the growth that
it brings. I see the grace that is
in each and every one of those little drops.
Early
in the spring when I was starting to garden I was thinking about how we often
use hard and tough tools to break up ground for planting. It was fascinating to see that God used
rain with the same effect. Gentle
rain brings softness. I remember
specifically asking God, over that time, that I would be able to respond to His
grace, and the words from a song, “O for grace our hearts to soften.” And now, today, I live that prayer fulfilled, moment by moment.
Seeing grace and accepting it can be as
difficult as extending grace to someone that has wronged me. Grace comes in so many forms sometimes
I don’t even know what it is and I call it pain and despair. I daily find though, that grace, is using
the pain and despair to turn my heart to a God who holds my wound with a tender
hand, a God who faithfully keeps His promises by building hope and a God who
knows just what I need.
The last months have brought much
change in our lives, and yet, no change at all. We’ve been to the doctor numerous times. We were given a diagnosis: A very mild
form of Mitochondrial Myopathy.
Now the doctors are saying they aren’t so sure about this diagnosis and maybe
it is something else. More
testing, more waiting and many days of not knowing. A few weeks back Ian was feeling stronger than he had been
for months. He was walking around
the house quite often without using his cane. He had energy to babysit three children for several days in a
row. But then three weeks later he
experienced some very low days where he felt so weak it was hard to even shake
hands to greet people. We wake up
every morning unsure of what the day will hold.
But this we know, God is faithful. Whenever my heart wants to doubt, or be
afraid, I only have to remember a few years back, a few weeks, a few days, only
a few moments ago to remind myself of His declared faithfulness. I have nothing profound or clever to
say, in fact, I’m still learning the definition of faithfulness but I cannot
turn a blind eye to what I see daily.
I see and experience friends who call to encourage me even when I don’t
have the emotional energy to answer the phone. I get my after-work boost by opening the mailbox to
encouraging notes and letters from so many of you. I
see God providing for us financially through hundreds and thousands of dollars
coming from our friends and even people who we hardly know. I've learned to feel blessed, instead of overwhelmed, by an over
productive garden that left jars of canned goods and a freezer
full in it’s wake. I have a stack
of material given to me by the young ladies in our church that wanted to bless
me with some new dresses. I have
boxes and boxes full of canned goods in my basement from our mothers and
friends who put away tomato products, pickles, peaches and more for us. Our church family continues to support
us in big and little ways through meal invitations, and just little things
throughout our week. And many
times I have seen and experienced God’s strength in Ian’s life when he’s been
low and we’ve prayed specifically for extra strength.
Fascinatingly enough, I find the hardest moments in life are not
necessarily the odd ones. Like
last week when Ian was at an eye appointment and found it more comfortable to
rest on the floor instead of in the chair in the waiting room. You could see the worry mounting on the
face of the receptionist when I didn’t bat an eye at how he was acting. It did feel a little odd with people
coming and going and I’m sure thinking we looked a bit crazy, my husband stretched out head to toe on the floor with his eyes closed. Moments like
that aren’t as hard as other times. Last evening we watched the video that one of our friends put
together for us from our wedding.
It had all the happy moments and the sad goodbye looks and the
experiences from our special day, but the thing that caught at my heart the
most was how Ian could walk, and stand, and jump, and feel excited. I could hardly take my eyes off of his
simple movements. Another thing
that hurts is looking at friend’s family photos where the man is standing, or
watching some of the young men in our church cross the room. Simple, I know, but surprisingly
difficult for my heart to accept.
God is teaching me to thank Him in those moments that these men have beautiful strength from Him. I praise God that Ian
does have the amount of strength that he's been given. And I learn most importantly not to not worry about our future.
Thank you to so many of you who have let us know that you are following our story and are praying for us. We daily feel and experience your support.
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| Grace like rain by Martha Strickler |
