Just as we trusted the God of the universe with every intricate detail of pregnancy and delivery of this beautiful girl, we will trust Him with every day of her life. Regardless of the unlikely, uncertain kind of life she has right now. Regardless of the number of her days. Regardless of her needs. We know He can meet them, and in many ways better than we ever could.
Brielle is almost 29 months now. Her therapy seems to help in small ways, and she is thoroughly enjoying her hippotherapy (horse therapy) once a week now, too! But progress is painfully slow--slower than we hoped for-- and we are reaching a threshold of patience once again. A crossroads is emerging, and we must once again choose which path to take, which tests to run, which road to go down with our little girl in our search for answers.Our next step seems to be genetic testing. Something we'd considered before, but held off to see if removing seizures from the equation was the only hindrance. Now, we're not so convinced this was just about seizures. Perhaps there's something else going on that we need to address.
Here's the thing with genetic testing. It is scary. It is overwhelming. It is crazy expensive. And, even if conclusive, it is often left with no real cure or answer. Just a label or title. A name to put to the problem we're facing. It also brings about fear. Fear of finding an answer we don't want to hear. Fear for her future. Fear for the health of our future children, if any. Fear fear fear. Ironically I fear being fearful. I actually worry about the possibility of fear. Sheesh, if that isn't a vicious cycle, I don't know what is.
And then I think on the book of Job in the Bible. The guy had everything, and then God allowed everything, including his own health, to be taken from him-- just to prove his faithfulness. Even his own wife gave up on him, and God...
2:9 His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”
2:10 He replied, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
I don't want to be the foolish woman. I want to accept all things from God. Both what I see as good and what I see as bad. Both can be blessings, if we are looking for His hand in it. Both offer an opportunity to trust and grow in our faith.I've been reading the book "One Thousand Gifts", and it is extremely timely in this season of life. It's the challenge to see everything as a gift from God. All things. Seek the gift, seek the beauty; even in the broken and hurt... we can find grace, healing, hope, and beauty from our Creator. Our Father, who loves us. He turns even those darkest things into something good--if we look for it. Not to say that He is the Author of evil-- by no means! But He is the Author of our faith. And he brings about good things to completion, if we are willing to embrace with open hands what He gives us.
Like I heard just last night from a friend--
To the things we like and enjoy, shout to the Lord, "Thank you!" and have a grateful heart. And to the things we don't understand or don't like, tell God "OK", and accept in faith. Like a child who is obedient even when they don't feeeeel like it, or when they don't understand their parent's rules. We can be obedient--without fear. Out of faith, because He parents us PERFECTLY. Without flaw or fail. We can trust in His goodness wholly. We can lean on our Heavenly Father, even in the hurt and confusion... no, especially in the hurt and confusion.
"Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"
These are weighty, raw, and painful questions. It hurts to hurt. It hurts to see others hurt. It hurts to see others suffer, to see our own suffering. To not understand, to question God's intentions, to question His love for us, to question ourselves. But those questions and hurts can draw us to our Creator, to grace and contentment. Even in the ugly, messy, terribleness. Even in the "why's" of life.
And our daughter? Shame on me if I miss this gift. This precious beautiful gift. This messy, imperfect, break-the-mold gift. This "God is my might" little Brielle-girl, with the sun-gold hair and the sly smirky smile and the unadulterated ocean eyes. The giddy greetings and the ornery protests and the quiet contemplative soul. The white-wrinkled fingers, soft from all-day-sucking, wet with drool, patting me softly on the face. The gentle goodnight nuzzle in the crook of my neck at day's end. These are gifts. She is my gift. And I embrace it.