Friday, July 16, 2010

After an hour and 10 minutes in the waiting room at the Doctor’s office, I was losing all mannerisms of my Christian self. My foot started tapping uncontrollably, my arms suddenly folded themselves in front of me and I was just willing someone at the front desk to look over at my very unhappy face.

I finally stood myself up and marched myself over to the nurse’s station. Remembering to at least attempt to hide my anger, I blurted out, ‘Have I been forgotten?”

Moments later, I was ushered into another waiting room. I should have realized my wait would continue when they gave me a locker to put my belongings in, along with a key to wear around my wrist. For the test I was waiting for, I wasn’t permitted to wear deodorant. It occurred to me on my way toward my third hour of waiting that the other women in the area weren’t permitted to wear deodorant either. My purse, along with my Lady Speedstick I was beginning to obsess about, were locked away in Locker #3. Another hour passed.

My anger and frustration made me emotional and I fought not to feel panicked. I was ready to tell the tech, “I stink and YOU DESERVE IT!”

I was finally called in and just like that, it was over. I liberally applied the Secret spray I found in the changing room, and ran out of the office. I was free, energized and ready to tackle what was left of my day.

Sometimes it feels like we’ve been forgotten. We’re waiting for what feels like an eternity to get some attention. Please! Notice that I’m here! Life is packed full of waiting. We wait for test results, a job, the real estate market to turn around, a relationship to heal, our spouse to change, our child to find their way, our financial situation to fix itself, to see our loved one’s face again. Waiting stinks. But in the wait, we must remember that we will never be forgotten.

All the while, we sit with the key to open what will be our ultimate peace. We have His Word at our fingertips. We just need to apply it. Liberally.

Isaiah 40:31

But those who wait on the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint.

Waiting with you,


Friday, July 02, 2010

I’d always been so afraid to listen for God’s voice. I was terrified He would tell me that my daughter would get sick, or we’d have to give up all our money and live like paupers. It wasn’t until Rhyan was diagnosed that I found myself crying out to Him, with nothing to lose, desperate for a word. Not long after we were told Rhyan was deaf, I was sobbing to Him – take my ears, take my sight. Anything, Lord. Just not my baby. I felt it in my soul, it was time to Be Still. For the first time, I recognized His voice whisper over my heart …

It’s going to be OK.

Just that simple. And I believed.

A few weeks ago, sitting in the doctor’s office with Evynn, I watched her Doctor look over her chart. The look on his face was familiar and panic seized my heart. ‘She fell off the chart in her height. I’m going to order some tests.’ Immediately, I was transported back to all we endured with Rhyan. Hospital visits, tests, diagnoses, insurance. Waiting. I cried out to God, again. ‘No more, Lord, please. No more. Not my baby.’ And, again, I heard His whisper…

It’s going to be OK.

The thing about trials and pain is that they are stepping stones toward God. Rhyan’s deafness, and our decision for her to have a cochlear implant, made us stronger. We grew closer to each other, closer in our faith. Closer in our relationship with our Father. Our past tribulations are like a mirror for us to reflect on and see where God’s hand was in our past. He was faithful and true when He told me that night that everything would be Ok. I believed then, I’ll believe now.

One child is deaf, one child is small. One child I have to draw close to me for her to hear my voice. One child I will be able to hold just a little bit longer. When we’re hurting, when nothing feels right and we don’t feel like we can go on, we can let our Father draw us close to His side so we can hear His voice. And we can let Him hold us just a little bit longer.