The Sweetness of Suffering Long

What an odd time to be pouring out my thoughts, or maybe not.  Seems like it’s in the worst of times that the Lord allows my fingers to work through these tormenting, emotional knots.

1:30 am on Wednesday morning and Luke has had another awful start to the night. He’s just miserable with pain and nausea, I guess with his bowels trying to sort out their purpose. Even after IV medication he’s restless, moaning, begging to go home and be done with this nightmare. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s dragged his rapidly thinning frame out of the bed and hobbled to the bathroom with “George,” his unwanted IV pole companion. 

 

I’ve felt myself nearly checking out at times, and have blamed it on being short of sleep. But the last 24 hours I’ve had a word forcing itself to the forefront of my mind.  Amidst the pain, sleeplessness, and agony of seeing my child miserable, I hear the word “long suffering.”  Over and over this word keeps repeating itself in my brain. It’s not a word I know really, or use. In fact I wouldn’t have been able to tell you much about it except that at the height of Luke’s misery tonight I looked it up.  Long-suffering is a fruit of the Spirit.

 

My take on it is this:  God wants me to look past the present heartache somehow to understand the concept of abiding with Him, in His timing, and for His purposes, not mine. Long-suffering is allowing Him to carry me and others through the most tedious of suffering. It’s allowing the Holy Spirit to abide and work when all other attempts to control and manipulate are failing. It’s what allows the church to walk with someone through the pain no matter how impossible things seem. Long suffering through the Holy Spirit breaths out from the care givers of the dying, and exudes peace and hope to the disabled. It accepts that we aren’t on an instant fix schedule, but rather submitting to the Lord’s will with a peace that can only come from my Father. A Father who I know loves me so very much tonight. 

 

In our instant society we have tight control of many things to avoid delays, inconveniences, and ultimately pain that makes us unhappy. As I’ve walked these hospital halls there are times I think we will never leave. By my calculations, we should have been home days ago.  I fret because things aren’t working out like I think they should. And I can’t even imagine the pain Luke has right now or the hopelessness he is dealing with. He is missing Band UIL and musical theater rehearsals for “Oklahoma.” The homework is piling up, his weight is dropping, and he is feeling so trapped.

I believe, though, that tonight the Lord has persistently been whispering to me “Long-suffering, Kerrie. You aren’t going to fix this according to yours or anyone else’s plans or needs. Let go and just walk with me as I grow and share this bitter sweet fruit, through you."

Battle Scarred Faith

This last week, Tommy and I’ve watch Luke struggle through horrible abdominal pain, nausea, and a 3 hour ER wait while vomiting in a trash can as strangers looked on. He chugged down contrast dye, vomiting multiple times before being wheeled off without us to get a CT scan. He was then whisked off to surgery with a hope of being pain free and leaving in the morning. Instead, he  woke  up to find himself chained to IV poles, a mass of bandages across his lower abdomen, and plastic bottles and tubes coming out of holes not previously there. His simple appendectomy turned into major abdominal surgery including removal of parts of the small and large intestine that were so infected they had to be discarded along with an  appendix reported to be 10-15 times normal size. 

I found myself in shock, feeling like I’d entered the Twilight Zone.  Lord I thought, are you for real here?  What's up? I’ve done my duty many times over, and we deserve some kind of break don’t we? Why are you allowing us to go through more crap with our other son? But I’m reminded that my heart has told the Lord that I just want to bring him honor. I just want to be a light in darkness. It’s so easy to proclaim that in the middle of easy times, but when you find yourself in another ER, watching son number 2 begging for relief it’s easy to say to hell with wanting to be warrior princess for God, just give my son some relief.

But today I heard a code called upstairs on someone who quit breathing and found myself whispering prayers for healing. A man in the cafeteria getting coffee with me needed to talk about his wife’s surgery. Walking the halls with Luke I pass a down cast Spanish woman who looks hopeless... "Lord bring her relief and peace”.  Another gentleman hobbling down the hall with an IV pole for a cane, “Keep up the good work sir!” the thoughts, words, prayers just flowed.  The Lord is present, abiding, living, breathing through me in the middle of Luke’s nightmare.

I’ve said many times, if we want to be a light in a dark world we gotta walk through the darkness in order to shine.  This life ain't about careers and vacations, and retirements or bank account worries. Its not about making our place in this world and having people admire us. It’s about Jesus.  It’s about thanking him for the opportunities to be faithful and recognizing that faithfulness impacts the world most when things are at their worst. It’s about realizing God has kingdom sized plans that don’t revolve around our family's comfort… and I can choose to be a part of His army with joy. 

 So tonight I ask myself what right do I have to complain? I can come up with a hundred things to complain about, or I can begin thanking God for another opportunity to proclaim His glory.  Andrew didn’t learn to love and trust his Father through a normal pain free life.  And my wise mother reminded me this weekend that Luke was also being molded. Who am I to complain and stand in the way of experiences that will allow Luke to develop faith and perseverance?  

We’ve been blessed with amazing doctors, nurses, techs, ladies that bring clean linens, and cafeteria workers that make sure we have food and coffee. We've been shown love and support that has come in like a tidal wave of blessings. And Tommy, my steady rock that just keeps on giving, loving, providing and telling me not to worry. His worth can in no way be measured through promotions or pocketbooks. He is priceless. My cup runneth over this week. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.