Thursday, March 12, 2009

A step towards faith


Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to stop worrying about my little Chunk. She's got some awful stomach bug right now and she is so miserable and sick. I suppose it is normal for things like this to happen to toddlers, but it is incredibly hard for me to watch her suffer after what she's already been through. She was constantly grabbing her stomach today and telling me, "Ouch, mommy", and it was almost more than I could handle. Her appetite is almost non-existent and her not eating is not okay with me. I actually spent 80% of my day fixing food for her to eat, most of it ended up in the trash...untouched. There's this weird part of me that is terrified that she will never eat again. I find so much joy in her rolls of precious fat and consider every pound she gains as a blessing. I couldn't stand to watch her waste away to the tiny, thin and sick little girl that she was just a couple of months ago. So anytime she gets sick, I find myself in this mass hysteria of emotions. And it's times like this where I realize how much I have not given to God. It's like I take what little bit of my fear and worry I can and I lay it at the Cross, the rest I keep hidden somewhere deep down inside. And today I realized how consumed with fear I really am. Fear for her future, fear for her well-being, fear for her life. As much as I go on and on preaching about trusting God, it's interesting to me how much faith I still lack. I know it is normal for a mommy to worry about her little ones, but there is a point where worry crosses over into obsession and I still struggle with that.
I feel like I've been walking on a cloud for the past few months, floating along in this non-emotional existence while things have been happy and "easy". Anytime anything happens that sparks an emotional fire in me, I push it away and refuse to think about it. I called this "giving it to God", but is that really what I'm doing? See, I don't think so. I think I'm stuffing it away and secretly hoping it will disappear if I don't acknowledge it. But when things start to get hard again and the reality of this situation rears its ugly head, I find myself completely overwhelmed with fear. I think that's a pretty good indication of how much I am really trusting God. We say it all the time, "I Believe!", and I always thought I did. Maybe it's just something inspiring that I say because it sounds good, these days I'm not really sure. But God keeps prodding me, pushing me into a deeper understanding of what it truly means to trust Him. It's like He won't let me get away with just thinking I believe in a miracle, He wants me to own it. And as I've unraveled my feelings and my deepest emotions, I've realized something about myself-- I am scared to believe. Not because I don't trust God, not because I don't have faith but simply because I am scared that if I believe, He will take her from me anyways. And losing her is not something that I could ever handle. She is almost like a part of who I am, like she runs through every vein in my body, and my connection with her defies anything I ever thought possible.
So today she is sick again and I feel like I am just beginning to journey down a road that I thought I had already traveled. A road that will teach me to put all of my trust in the God that created my precious little Chunks-a-lot. I don't think the point of believing is having to know whether or not your belief will bring about the ending that you desire, it's more about the complete abandonment of control to God. This is what He desires from us. So today I'll take one step forward into the understanding of what it really means to believe in a miracle for my little girl, knowing that one day, be it on heaven or earth, she will be healed. And that's something worth believing in.

1 comment:

Andrea said...

Hebrews 12:27 And this word, Yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those things which cannot be shaken may remain.

When it comes to our faith, it seems sometimes that we have to go through endless "shaking" (yet once more) to shake away all that can be shaken so that what remains is something that cannot be shaken.