I have so much I'd like to share. So many stories I'd like to tell.
My heart is broken that I can't.
Ten days ago my mother fell and broke her hip in three places.
It has been difficult, as I have wanted and needed to be with Jim and Ethan, to be two hours away with my mother and dad. I fight the guilt of leaving one to be with the other.
It has been difficult and scary to think of my 88 year old dad being alone, while my mother is in rehab.
My heart breaks when I see the pain my mother is experiencing from her injury. I am sad I can't take away the fears that uncertainty brings, and her disappointment of not being at home for Christmas.
Thinking of the future, as my parent's independence seems to be slipping away, is overwhelming. My sister and I so desperately want what is best for them, but the answers to what that might be and how it will come about seem to be hidden.
The last ten days have been difficult for my "recovering people-pleaser self." I'm fighting the feelings of failure that come from not being able to meet the expectations of others, and the expectations I have for myself.
This time of year is filled with memories of God's faithfulness towards our family. Seven years ago today, we brought Ethan back to the hospital where he was born. He took the four and a half hour trip in an ambulance with a ventilator helping him breathe. His broken and desperate parents followed him in their car, while they prayed for mercy and strength. The doctors had told us that the child we were bringing home would never wake up. They told us that he was gone . . . that his brain had suffered too great of an injury.
I praise God everyday that He gave Ethan back to us. I thank Him everyday for Ethan's life and the miracle He has done.
But I also grieve everyday for the part of Ethan that is still missing. I want it back.
I want all of my child.
I miss not having all of Ethan.
The emotions that come from remembering make it difficult to deal with another trial at this time of the year.
Seven years ago, when Christmas seemed to be salt poured into a gaping wound and just a horrible reminder of all that was lost, God gently reminded me that Christmas was the only reason I had any hope at all. He even sent a sweet man, Father Julien, to confirm His words to me.
Once again, in the darkness and the disappointment, I am trusting in the Sweet Baby in the Manger. I am trusting in the hope He brings to us all.
My hope this Christmas is found in His words . . .
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.
In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart!
I have overcome the world."
I wish you all the love and hope and peace The Overcomer brings.