It’s been quite a while since I’ve found myself face to face with this blog questioning everything I want to say. But, considering it’s currently 2am and I’ve been unable to sleep, I figured I might as well try to put words to the thoughts that I am processing through.
This is my niece, Abigail Elizabeth Andresen. She was born in January at 27 weeks old. The last few months have been a rollercoaster of emotions ranging from despair to joy to fear to peace to the unknown. I find it difficult to put into words the emotions that arise within me every time I think about Abby and the impact that she has had on my life already.
I admit that in the past, I have sadly seen people post pleading for people to pray for a premature baby, whether it was theirs or a family members. Although I would normally say a prayer in my heart, I found it hard to connect or really take into consideration how they were feeling because after all, it was only a baby and not a grown child. How asinine a thought.
In reality, it’s hell. There’s really no way around it other than you feel like you’re in a whirlpool where at any moment it could change or switch directions on you completely and with no warning. I hate that every time I see a call or a text come through from my mom or dad that a wave of fear comes over me that something could be wrong. I feel like a failure for being unable to help or be there for my sister during what has been one of the hardest seasons that she has had to walk through. I dislike having to wrestle with God and admit to Him that I am afraid of being let down. That I’m afraid He won’t come through in the way I want Him to.
We are so used to being in control and having the answers. If we feel sick, we take medicine. If we don’t like our job, we find a new one. If we want a fresh start, we move. In most situations we face, there is some sort of process that gives us a general idea of what our next step should be. But what about those times when there is no set process? When there isn’t a person you can call who can direct you on what to do next or a remedy you can take to make it all better? Those times when you just drive in your car in silence because you don’t have any more prayers that can be said? When you lay in bed with the words, “Jesus, please” on your lips.
“Faith” is an easy word to say but the most difficult word to live out at times. But I suppose that’s the beauty of it…the process of living it out. As I laid in bed tonight, I began to ask God how He does it. How does He have the strength to see the people he loves go through pain and heartache every day? I know that he’s God and I am completely unable to fully understand even a fiber of his being, but gosh, I just feel like that would be exhausting. I whispered, “How do you do this everyday without your heart breaking into a million pieces?” I quickly heard back, “It does.”
I don’t know why Abby’s lungs haven’t been fully healed yet, but I have to believe that there’s more to the cross than we can even comprehend as believers. I have to believe that despite what happens here on earth, our promise was healing. Our promise was life. Our promise was eternity. I have to believe that there is so much more beauty and life ahead for us.
We have to believe. Sometimes it’s as simple and heart-wrenching as that.