a day in the life (18)

POST EDIT: I think it is an amazing consolation how the Lord comforts us in surprising ways when we are most undeserving and even in times of self-pity. The same day this happened we also met our new therapist who is the head of the department of pediatric therapy at GVSU. She also "happens" to be a Christian and took special time to encourage Calvin and I though knowing nothing of the dark cloud hovering above me these days.  It humbles me to be put in my place again, God is here, He is not remote, and He even sends little breadcrumbs to reassure me. -Kara

We were arriving late. No matter how we try to make it to church on time it seems like something always interferes; the feeding pump, Calvin's startling, or kids searching for Sunday shoes.

"Why don't you stay home?" Darryl suggested as I struggled to put on something half-way put together. "No," I insisted, "we'll make it, just give me two minutes. Can you grab diaper, wipes, and feeding tube?" We left it at that and scurried around tripping over kids that were trying to fill their pockets with church candy, searching for their Bible and donning their hats. 

We piled into the van with no time to lose. No sooner than pulling out of the driveway Calvin began to stiffen and spasm. The brakes slammed, I whipped open the side door, put him on my lap, and we rode to church. 

Hearty singing greeted us as we reached the church and slipped into the last row. We had made it, though scarcely in fine form. My shirt had large spots of drooling nicely standing out on both shoulders and on my chest. Nice. I stifled my frustration with Calvin, even though I knew he had no control over it. 

His breathing was rattly and noisy and was amplified by my concern to keep him quiet. Evie wiggled constantly next to me and whined to be put on my lap. Everything happening in the present was a picture of my week. Chaos and upheaval frustrating me to no end. 

There's no place for us anymore, I thought to myself. There's no place for noisy drooling kids with beeping monitors. What am I going to do when he gets bigger? How will I be able to lift him and keep him comfortable at home? Will I ever have a life? Will we ever be able to sit through a church service? Once you start asking questions like this there is no end. 

I forced my mind to listen to the words floating through the church. It was a beautiful message on heaven. It should have softened my heart and made me submissive to this life I'm called to, right now. Instead the words were like feathers bouncing off metal walls. 

Bitterness came up in my heart. Today hurts. I know it's supposed to be small in comparison to the glory in heaven. But I can't get over this mountain now. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I've been broken up all week over Calvin. Couldn't some of that heaven start now?  If you want me to hear these words than please can you make Calvin be quiet so I can listen? 

But Calvin fussed on and I eventually left half-way through the service with a tear-stained face and drool-stained clothes and two kids in tow. Somehow it felt that this message for heaven wasn't for me.

Monday morning arrived with a treat, my dear friend Rebecca (who also happens to be one of the few people who can manage Calvin's care). Many days she is a breath of fresh air sent straight from heaven to our door. 

Her and I cut to the chaise quickly. She looked kindly at me, "Oh Kara, I don't know how you feel exactly, but I heard a story last week about heaven. A little boy was bullied terribly in the fourth grade. He begged his dad to be home-schooled. He never wanted to go back to school, it was too hurtful, too painful. The father looked tenderly at him and said in the most compassionate way, "Oh my son, I don't want you to hurt or cause you pain, but I must send you back to that school. If you never finish fourth grade you won't be ready for what is next, fifth grade."

"And so the Lord hurts when we are in pain. He doesn't delight in our feelings of being overwhelmed or in pain. But he is using this for what is to come in this life, for what's next, and for heaven."

And then she sent me out the door and stayed to watch the kids while Calvin and I headed to Mary Free Bed for therapy. I quietly gave thanks, Thank you for sending a friend to show Your care even thought I couldn't stay for the sermon. Thank you for caring for your weakest ones.