Day Eleven - April 11, 2020
Today I rose well before the sun after tossing and turning - trying not to worry about my mom. Our beautiful daughter, Leah and my sweet niece, Kia stayed overnight to care for her and tuck her into bed. They are so gracious and kind and treat their Nanny with steadfast love. So even though we’d love to wrap her up in bubble packing and put her back into isolation - that can’t happen for now. So it’s round the clock “maid” service! And lo and behold the woman has hand sanitizer just sitting around! What!?
Nellie got her walk nice and early - as the sun rose ... fierce and bright - despite our fears, despite the virus.
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Two nights ago, I didn’t expect to be spending the night in the guest room at my mom’s house - yet tonight… this is where Kat and I are camped out. Kia and Leah have decorated this place with LED lights and snowboarding paraphernalia. They usually spend most weekends here with Daniel - singing in the basement at the top of their lungs, jumping on the trampoline, eating healthy food, watching movies or hanging out with their friends and family. Nanny calls them “The Three Musketeers.”
I have spent the past few weeks like many people - coaching myself to be still and quiet… to find the path to be at peace. Worry surrounding this virus comes like waves and sometimes we have to face it head on. We try our best to make good decisions, wise choices … but sometimes I think the hardest battle is in the mind. To hold ourselves steady when so much change is happening all around us…
I have spent so much of my life worrying about many things - one of them, in particular, is my mom falling. She has severe osteoporosis from her accident in her early twenties - so a simple fall for her can be life-altering. I know in my head - that worrying does nothing - but I struggled to have that truth drop deep in my heart.
Back in November I had some boot-camp coaching from a few dear friends… walking me through the cycle of worry. It was brutal. I chose to look at some really deeply seated beliefs that I carried around - making me weary and getting me nowhere but tired.
And while it might seem foolish to even voice my beliefs - it does serve to strip them of power. I believed that if I tried hard enough, thought long enough, planned well enough, arranged things just enough… she would have the best chance at not falling. And while that’s true - it’s just that I never seemed to arrive at “enough.” And so the vicious cycle of worry would go round and round - sometimes more rather than less… but always churning. Always wearing me down… Always stealing some measure of joy and peace.
Subconsciously I believed that it was in my hands to protect her - more than in God’s hands. It’s hard even to admit but truth sets us free… And in November, I crept towards the brink of letting go, clenching my fists around anything I could hang onto…
But eventually with the help of the Holy Spirit and close friends, one day the worry just left. I understood that God my Creator loves my mom more than me. There is not one thing that worry can do to prevent her from falling. I can ask for wisdom, ask for guidance, ask for help, ask for protection and do what I am able… but it must end there. I cannot carry the cross forward from that point. If I do, that is when I take on God’s role - leaving Him little to no room to work.
Earlier today, emotions were flying high… fears of possibly heading into a hospital setting, fears of a fracture, fears of unknowingly contaminating her sterile space, fears of losing her...
And yet November’s “gift” came back to rest upon my heart. The gift of trust. The gift of peace. The gift of God’s protective love for His beloved.
And so tonight as I’m lying in this silly bedroom, decorated by our beautiful kids, I see God’s steady hand working in the silent and HIDDEN places… preparing me for today. Allowing me to graciously walk through the process of handing my mom’s care over to Him - that He may be her first Provider.
It is hard to be forensically honest. It’s brutal and often comes at a high cost. And yet tonight, as we sit ready to celebrate tomorrow’s sunrise, we remember the cost of our freedom. The cost of our forgiveness. His life… that we may be free!