Choosing the Gospel

I needed to take a step back and examine my response in light of the Gospel. This whole circumstance with Mama is complicated - more complicated for me than I can adequately express. So I needed to check myself in light of who I know I am in Jesus, and where I know that He has me.

I like to be in control. I have this incredibly huge sense of responsibility, and often that plays out with me taking control. Because after all, if I am responsible, I know it will get done how I want it, and even if it doesn't end up how I want it, I will have been there through the process so I at least know what's going on. God designed me with this understanding of responsibility, but my old sin nature twisted God's design to be something it wasn't intended to be. And I must confess, that is what I am wrestling with right now.

For the past two weeks, a large part of Mama's care has been in my willing hands. Taking care of Mama isn't something that I am forced to do - yes, its helpful that I am here to do it, but I choose this. And it has truly been an honor and a privilege to be here for Mama. It isn't another "responsibility" to me. There is truly nowhere else I would rather be. I mean that in a way that I can't describe, you will just have to trust that those words ring true deep in my soul. When I say that Mama is my best friend, I don't mean that casually. When I am home, pretty much everything I do involves Mama. We go out to dinner at "our" restaurants, we watch "our" shows, I visit her at work -  even random errands are done together. I have always had the hardest time leaving her and my family, even in high school. I would go through these massive debates in my mind over what to do on Friday night: yes, I will have fun with my friends, but I would also have fun with Mama. Ridiculous, but I'm being honest here. So being here with Mama at this time is just natural. A lot of people have asked if I want to "get out" - and I understand their meaning, and I do need to - but in the last three years, anytime I have been home, "getting out" has almost always involved my mom and doing something with her. So it's always bittersweet when I leave the house for extended periods of time.

But there is another reason that I don't leave Mama. And that goes back to me liking to be in control. If I am there, even though I can't stop her pain, I can do things to ease it, and at least I am there knowing it's happening. If I am with Mama, I can do anything she needs, be it fix food, help her roll over, help her move to the wheelchair, etc. If I am there, I know when the nurse and physical therapist come, and I know what they say, and I know how best to help. If I am there, I know what's going on, and even if it's not good, at least I have firsthand knowledge of what happened. Knowledge is power, and power is control. What a sick twisted presumptuous perspective.

Sunday in church, Pastor Kallam presented the Gospel. As I sat there before taking the Lord's supper, I realized that the Gospel is what allows me to relinquish my sense of control, my sense of responsibility. It's because of the Gospel that I can let go, I can trust others for Mama's care - heck, I can  trust Mama for her care. It's because of the Gospel that I can leave, and I can leave confidently. Yes, something might happen while I am gone - Mama could get behind on medicine, or she could want something, or any number of things - but it's because of the Gospel that my confidence isn't in myself but in the Lord. He is who I trust in all things, first and foremost. He is who I run to, who I cling to. He is my shelter, my calm, my peace. And my old self keeps rising up to steal that from me, to cloud my vision with ideas of control and responsibility. But I know the truth, and the truth sets me free.

God is just, and as my judge, He requires certain things. I do have a certain responsibility. But God is my justifier. Jesus took my debt and paid the price. He took on my responsibilities and as a result He bears the scars. There is no need for me to constantly scar myself with my own need for control. God doesn't require any more from me. I have no more responsibilities in His eyes. He has done it, and He will do it. He will not let go of me. All I can do is love Him. And therein lies my freedom - freedom from sin, freedom from control, freedom from responsibility.

In my life, this doesn't mean that I will be leaving Mama's side much more than I already am. But when I do leave, whether it's to go run errands or see a friend or even make Mama a smoothie in the kitchen, I can leave confidently. I am going to choose not to worry, not to control, not to make Mama's life  my responsibility. Instead, I choose peace, confidence, and freedom. And I choose those things because of the Gospel and because of who I am in Jesus.

Mother's Day

One month ago, I was in Charleston with my family, celebrating my brother’s Recognition Day at The Citadel. We had such a great time, laughing and joking and enjoying each other.

Three weeks ago, I got a phone call from my dad telling me that there had been an accident. My mom was hit by a drunk driver and was rushed to the emergency room for immediate surgery, which saved her life. She should not be alive, based on her car and the extent of her injuries.  That phone call is the one I always dreaded but never actually expected to get. Thank God she was alive, even though her injuries were extensive and she was in critical condition.

My mom and I have always been close. Ever since I was a little girl, Mama has been my adviser, helper, leader, guide, confidante, fellow female in the household, and best friend. I have always told her everything, and as I grew up, we developed a relationship that I cherish. We discuss life, friends, situations, our faith and what God is teaching us, our family, our hopes and dreams for the futures. Sure, it isn’t all fun and laughter and perfection - we’ve had our share of disagreements and rough moments. But I have been blessed in that God chose Mary Grace to be my mother. He knew what each of us needed, and so He gave us each other.

After the accident, Mama was in the ICU for about two and a half weeks. The first few days of that Mama was chemically paralyzed, and for the next week she was heavily sedated and out of it. I had to return to school during that time and take my final exams. Of course, all my thoughts were not on my studies but back in that ICU room with my mom.


Yesterday Mama came home! After three weeks in the hospital, Mama made the move home, and tonight we are all gathered in her room, talking and laughing and watching the baseball game. My grandfather and aunt are here, and it has been a good day. The kind of day she and I both love, when we are all together as a family. 

Now it's Mother’s Day, my 22^nd Mother’s Day. When I imagined Mother’s Day 2012, I can’t say that I imagined spending it quite this way, gathered around my mom’s bedside. Yet I rejoice at this day, I rejoice at where we are, because I almost lost her. I almost lost my Mama, my confidante, my guide, my best friend. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without her, and I am thankful beyond measure because I know that this post could easily have gone the other way. I cannot repeat that enough – I know how blessed I am to still have my mom with me. And I do not take that for granted.

When I look at my mom now, I still sometimes get frustrated (especially when she’s hurting and I can’t do anything to ease her pain). I do long for our life as it was before, but at the same time, I am so thankful for this battle that we are in the midst of. Together, my family is learning what it means to know that the Lord is with us. Yea though we walk through the valley of death, we will fear no evil, because He is with us, and He has led us here, and He will see us through. We are learning in a new way to rely on Him and to rely on each other. We are learning to love each other tightly and hold on to every moment and tuck them away in our hearts.

While I know in the future, there will be times when I roll my eyes at Mama, or I think she is ridiculous, or I will be frustrated with her, I also know that I will not take for granted who she is and what she is to me. There was a time when I thought I would lose her, when we couldn’t talk, when I watched for every breath and listened for every heartbeat, and because of that, my perspective has radically changed.

Mama, I love you more than words can say. I’m so thankful for you, for what God is doing in both of us, and for how He us using this circumstance for His purpose and His glory. I’m so thankful that even though there are hard moments, we know to whom we belong. I am thankful that we can remind and encourage each other to cling to the truth and trust in the One who set  us in this family. Thank you for being who you are, for loving the Lord, and for seeking Him above all else. He has used you so much in my life, and there are not enough words to say how grateful I am for you. I love you.

My family and I, we are confident in the Lord, in the God we serve, and we are confident in what He is doing in each of us. And we stand together and say, “Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him and He saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in Him; let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation.”

"I Trust the God You Serve"

Mama is doing so well. She is moved out of the real ICU and into her own room on the other end of the floor. We're learning a little more self-sufficiency and how to keep track of pain and medication. For the most part, it was a good day, a learning day.

Last night, Mama was a little confused from the medication and being woken up in the middle of the night and a bunch of other things. We talked through it and I reminded her of some things we had talked about earlier. As I went back to my couch-bed, Mama said, "We can do this. I love you, and I trust the God you serve."

That phrase has stuck with me ever since. "I trust the God you serve." And I trust Him too, even as I serve Him. I have been turning back to Isaiah 25. Starting in verse 7, it says, "On this mountain, He will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; He will remove the disgrace of His people from all the earth. The Lord has spoken. In that day they will say, 'Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in Him; let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation.'" That is what I keep coming back to, in this, the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

We serve such a gracious, faithful, and sovereign Lord. To see Him at work in me, in Mama, in Daddy, in my brothers, in our extended family, in our community - it is truly amazing. For that alone, I can praise Him. But in the midst of all this hard, I am learning to trust Him in a different way, in a way that cries out to Him even as tears fall down my face and say, "My hope is in You. Your joy is my strength." And even though that moment is so hard, so full of heartbreak and sorrow, it is incredibly beautiful. Every time I drive home from the hospital, tears fall down my face in sorrow and frustration, yet I keep coming back to this. The Lord is my hope. He is my strength. He is my song even in the midst of struggle. His faithfulness is great beyond measure. And so with confidence, I already say, "Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in Him; let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation."

Hard Steps Forward

I didn't even realize how right I was when I told Daddy, "Every step forward will be full of hard."

This post isn't really about Mama. It's more about me and my thoughts on God and freedom and surrender. But in case you are wondering, Mama is doing so well. She is off the ventilator and talking. Mama is pretty disoriented and out of it, in part from the drugs and in part from being in the ICU with no way to mark day or night. But she is doing beautifully, and we are making so much progress.

Yet it is hard, in a new way, to see her like this. It's hard for her to be so disoriented. It's a twisted kind of funny, and thank God He allows us to laugh at it. Mama is in pain, and she doesn't exactly know what is going on. But its still good to talk with her and laugh with her and have times like last night where our family just did what our family does - talked and joked and laughed. And I rejoice in each step forward and look forward to the day when the "happy ending" that Daddy mentioned comes about.

Each movement of progress teaches me in a new way to rely on the Lord. At church this morning, the sermon was on Jeremiah 2 and "broken cisterns." I loved the sermon, and it was very applicable to what I usually post about - if all this wasn't going on, I would probably take the time to write out all my thoughts about it! But it applies to this situation, so I thought I would share anyway.

The passage talked about how Israel has turned from the Lord, broken their covenant with Him. In verse 13, its says, "My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water." I love that because it implies an attitude of independence that Israel had towards the Lord. Instead of relying on Him, they chose to do for themselves - find ways to protect and save themselves through building their own cisterns instead of turning towards the spring of living water.

So often I live in that place where I chose to dig myself a broken cistern. So often I want to prove that I am capable, I am strong enough, I am independent and self-reliant. So I keep on, striving to do, striving to be, and then I come to that place where I realize that in fact, all that I am doing is spinning in circles, wearing myself out for something that is completely and utterly broken, spilling out all that I am trying to do as fast as I am doing it.

And so today, with each step forward that is so hard, I am learning to run to the spring of living water. Because nothing else satisfies, nothing else comforts, nothing else is capable of bearing me through. It such a sweet experience, so just trust and move in those steps forward praying and surrendering. Because that is my freedom - to surrender and turn this hard over to the One who is both capable and willing to carry it for me.

Another Joshua Stone

It really is the little things that I take for granted.

I'm sitting here in Mama's unit watching her sleep. And by sleep, I mean actually sleep. She isn't sedated, she isn't in the chemical paralysis, she is soundly and visibly sleeping. It brings peace to my soul.

I have noticed this, the little things that I don't usually pay attention to. Turning at a red light, I am much more cautious than ever before, particularly in the morning. Walking through the house, I suddenly see things in a new way, in light of how Mama will perceive them when she gets home. Even more, sitting in the hospital with her, I listen and watch and do things in a new way, with new ears and eyes and movements, aware of what they all mean for her in the "reality" that she is in.

It is hard. Today she was so restless for so much of the day, and this afternoon she was in a lot of pain. I think that is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, sit beside her and hide my tears and stroke her hand while she was crying these breathless sobs of pain. But even as she is in pain, I know it's good, because it means we are closer to her getting off the ventilator, into her own room, back into her house, home with her family where she belongs. Home. Man, I cannot wait for that day.

There are so many things that right now I'm promising myself I will never again take for granted, even though I know I will. I know I won't always remember or the feel the things I am now. But at the same time, there will be more moments that I don't take for granted because of this. I have such a greater appreciation for our conversations, for our inside jokes. I'm so thankful that she is my best friend, because there are so many stories I can't wait to tell her about this circumstance that I already know how she will react to. So many things have happened where I can literally hear her voice in my head responding, and I am so thankful for that. I laugh at some many things because I hear what she would be saying about it (oh boy, I'm hearing voices in my head....this may not seem as good as it actually is. Which could be even more of a sign that I am going crazy!). Those are the moments that are life's gifts, in many ways, and I hope I  - we - look at them differently after this. I hope we clutch them tightly to us, savor them, and tuck them away in our hearts. Like I said, I know I will still take things for granted and I know that I will get frustrated and I know that the road ahead will be so hard. But I also hope - and know - that I will remember this, and maybe not take it so much for granted in the future.

I don't know. These are just my rambling thoughts. I don't even know if what I'm saying makes any sense, I just know that it feels good to have them down, to know that in a little while Mama will read these and know exactly what I was thinking about. And I know she'll understand these posts and know what I actually mean, because she's my mom and my best friend. This is all really for her, and for me, for my sanity. As Daddy says, its all self-indulgent. And Mama always says that she wishes she could be a fly on the wall of my life (which is weird, and I always tell her it's weird, but she says it's a mom thing, which I believe - although I do live a pretty great life haha), so this is her glimpse into my life at her bedside.

Current Thoughts from the Bedside

I walked into Mama's unit yesterday, suited up, grabbed her hand and said, "Hi, Mama!" All of a sudden she opened her eyes and smiled real big at me. It was perfect, exactly what I had been waiting for.

Mama is truly my best friend. We've always been that way. Every time I come home from school, she has this special smile that just tells me she loves me, she's glad I'm home, and that she's glad she's my mom. I don't know how a smile says all of that, but it does. Every time I walked into her little unit yesterday and said hello, she gave me that smile. I cannot tell you what it meant for my heart to see it.

Mama was pretty agitated yesterday, wanting those tubes out of her. They sedated her last night, so she's pretty calm today from that wearing out. They aren't giving her more sedation for a while, so she should be more responsive later today.

I'm just so thankful to be home. Its hard to see her like this still, but that smile makes everything worth it. There is no better feeling than the one I get when she smiles at me.

As we wait, I have hope. I'm confident in where we are, in the doctors, in the hospital, in our friends and family.      I am waiting expectantly.  The only words that describe it are from the hold hymn. "Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow - blessings all mine, and ten thousand beside! Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!"