First, we left our little man in Victoria where Cash's parents are keeping him overnight at his grandparents' house. Henry needed a nap, so as we were leaving I put him in the crib. As I slid my arm away he grabbed me and was screaming. I walked out and wanted to cry. I hate leaving him. He has no idea when he wakes up that he won't see us for another 24 hours. Although we obviously have to do it, it rips my heart out to walk away. He was asleep before we even left and got in a good 2 hour nap, but as I sit here tonight his little face is all I can dream about.
We were told last night that we'd get to stay in the Ronald McDonald House. I was very happy with this news because I'm already tired of doctor bills, hotels, gas, restaurants. It is a blessing that places like this exist. Except it feels really different...not a way I expected.
I don't know if I ever realized how good doing good things makes ME feel. Sure I've tried to do good for others, but at the end of it I can always sit back and say, "Man, I got more out of that than they did." I have always felt confident during those times of my life. But tonight Cash and I have been on the receiving end. And that feels a lot different than those good vibes of doing good.
I sit here thankful and appreciative in so many ways for the room we are staying in and the food we were blessed with. But tonight as I stood in a line to receive my plate of food prepared for us by an organization looking for volunteer hours, I felt a bit helpless. Sad. Needy. Yikes...as a Christian we like to be the ones giving, not the ones needing. It is hard and vulnerable to be needy.
As I took my plate and said thank you, Cash and I found a spot by the window. I looked around realizing everyone there had a really sad story. It is one thing to be the one in your friend group or Bible study needing some big prayers and all the attention is given to you. It is another thing to be one of many whose only hope rests in doctors and (maybe) God.
A family was sitting close to us and I overheard the young mother say that when they got here last July she was pregnant, so they have been here nearly a year and a half. They are waiting for her child to reach 22 pounds to get a transplant. I could barely eat. My heart sank for her, for the other stories I don't know, and the fear for our future.
We quickly finished and decided to go for a drive. Once we were in the car I started bawling. I don't want the Ronald McDonald House to be my normal for a year. I want my cushy life in my manicured neighborhood with my adoring husband and cute baby. Not a fiber in my being yearns for this to be how we raise Henry or spend even a week of our lives. That sounds selfish. It probably is. But it is real.
Tonight brought me back to the reality we are facing. A few well spoken prayer requests and nice blog posts don't cut it. We are facing a battle with Ann Louise's body and a battle with Satan's grasp of our minds and fears and anxieties. I've asked you for prayers before, but tonight I beg you for them. Pray for our MRI tomorrow. Pray for our hearts as we miss Henry. Pray for our minds as we continue to endure the anxiety of what lies before us. And please, pray for the peace of God to come into this place, that hope isn't found solely in doctors but in God alone.
You, my sweet friends, have prayed us to the cross. Now we must pray us past the grave.
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