Sunday, November 7, 2010

When we wait too long

Here I sit again in the dark with Danica tossing and turning in bed beside me and needling me in my side and arm with her little toes trying to find a place she can rest. It's almost 11 pm, and I am tired to my core. Once again I feel like I've waited too long to write. If I had posted this morning I could have talked about how the sun was shining, and I got to be part of the Body and worship. Of course I cried right there in front of everyone. Big tears streaming down my cheeks during "Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus", and I thought afterwards, "Why do so few people cry here? Surely I am not the only one completely overwhelmed by life and the amazing love of Jesus carrying us through."

I could have posted after having lunch at Panera with Delaney. She is funny, witty and mature but still so overwhelmingly eight sometimes. We sat and talked like we haven't done for weeks. It was good. I miss her desperately even though she is sleeping just across the living room. We are losing nights of Bible stories and reading and long snuggles. She has adapted in true Delaney grace. She still sings in the shower and creates art EVERY day. I know she will be better than okay no matter how all this goes, because she is just as brave and strong as her little sister but in different ways. She has sacrificed willingly her horseback riding lessons and her beloved summer vacation at the beach and many days and nights without her parents and sister with barely a complaint. She still believes she can be an artist AND a marine biologist, and we are getting a dog as soon as Danica gets better. This is something we have been promising since before Danica's last surgery. Her best line from today was when we saw a golden retriever (the kind of dog she has been longing for since our dear black lab Jack left us years ago)on our way to church, "Every time I see a golden I think I might faint I need one to love that bad."

I could have posted yesterday after I got home from an amazing birthday surprise party given by my book club friends. They took me to Glenmoor for a massage and lunch and gorgeous cake. I will never forget it. I cried then too. I was shy about being celebrated. I was overwhelmed by being touched. I hear it's healing. I've had too little of it. Danica and I used to snuggle all the time, and now we can barely hug with the big metal brace encompassing her body. I admit I feel resentment and pain because when we are touching sitting here hour after hour in this bed she is often hurting me. She kicks me in the abdomen when I try to change her and is always trying to stick a foot in my leg or back or side at night. It hurts me to hold my own baby girl, and I hate it.

I could have posted on my actual birthday. I received so many loving thoughts including a beautiful blog post Knowing & Being Known from my dearest friend, Angie. Dan and I went to sleep at our own house. Because of my continuing horrible pain we did not go to dinner but got take-out and crawled in bed and watched a movie We were not able to really connect in conversation or even to just be with one another. I felt so sad. He felt so sad. Saturday morning Dan was in such a visible depression. My sadness turned to anger. I wanted him to suck it up. I wanted him to be happy for me finally getting out with people. I wanted HIM to celebrate me. I wanted him to fake it so I could feel better. Weekends are the hardest for him. He wants to be home with his family. When he is here there is not even a chair to really claim as his own. I have never seen him relax here even for a minute. It's so painful to watch and to be around him here. I understand, but I somehow expect that we will all keep making it through and trying to smile as much as we can and cry as little as we can and numb ourselves as long as we can. It's just not how Dan deals with difficult things. If he can't be "doing" something useful and keep moving he is paralyzed and needs to leave. I feel abandoned and hurt, but I get it. I do.

Here I am. I've waited too long. I've waited too long to give God the praise for each moment of love and joy and peace He gave these past days. I've waited too long to ask for forgiveness for my worry and anger and self pity and all the times I let it come out in words and attitudes towards the people I love the most. I've waited too long to remember how incredibly blessed I am to have so much support from so many people who genuinely want to help and see our family through this painful chapter of our life. I've waited too long to sit back at the foot of the cross and remember the deep, deep love of Jesus. Looking full in His face puts everything else in perspective. Our hope remains.

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