Here is the Reader’s Digest version of how last week went for me:
On Monday, I suffered an injury which made me immobile for the next 3 days. Keep in mind this was the week leading up to our Pod leaving…meaning I was completely useless in helping with packing/cleaning.
Rhenner got sick, and ran a fever and had a terrible cough for 3 nights in a row. This meant we all slept terrible.
We put an offer on a house that we completely fell in love with – it was exactly what I imagined our family growing into. We thought it was ours, we thought it was a done deal…but due to a few circumstances with other offers on the home, we ended up losing our contract with them and the contract defaulted to someone else. We are still heartbroken over it and not ready to look at other houses again yet.
My grandfather went in for open heart surgery. We were told my doctors that the surgery may accelerate the symptoms of Alzheimer’s he was already starting to show. The day after his surgery, he woke up only knowing his name. Obviously, I was emotional for myself, my dad, and my grandma. Last I heard, he was slowly beginning to remember his wife, so we are hopeful that as he recovers, so will some of his memory.
I was told by my midwife that I am borderline anemic, and if my blood count falls any lower, then I’ll be unable to deliver at the birth center. I’d actually been hoping for a homebirth in Utah, so this was pretty disappointing to hear. Bring on the iron!
The last part of the week was spent packing up final boxes, comforting children who don’t understand why their toys and bed are disappearing, and Adam working hard on the house. We thought we were so close to being done with the house…until we found some hidden damage done, that will now require more hard work from Adam before we can put the house up for sale.
It’s been extremely emotional for me, and I’ve wondered why things couldn’t just have gone a little bit easier. If we knew it was the right decision for us to move, then why didn’t things fall into place more simply?
I emailed my dear friend Heather in England my woes, and she responded with a scripture:
And as for the perils which I am called to pass through, they seem but a small thing to me, as the envy and wrath of man have been my common lot all the days of my life; and for what cause it seems mysterious, unless I was ordained from before the foundation of the world for some good end, or bad, as you may choose to call it. Judge ye for yourselves. God knoweth all these things, whether it be good or bad. But nevertheless, deep water is what I am wont to swim in. It all has become a second nature to me; and I feel, like Paul, to glory in tribulation; for to this day has the God of my fathers delivered me out of them all, and will deliver me from henceforth; for behold, and lo, I shall triumph over all my enemies, for the Lord God hath spoken it.
The phrase “Deep water is what I am wont to swim in. It all has become a second nature to me” vibrated something in my heart. It reminded me that life was not meant to be easy. Things aren’t always meant to be simple. Deep waters are not new to me; I have swam in them before, and I’ve come out ontop. I’ve kissed the shore after surviving waves and storms, and this will not be any different.
I can do hard things. Remember?
Yesterday, I read the book Just a Little Too Little to Rhenner. In it, Little Critter is trying to do things that he is not quite big enough to do on his own yet. At the end, he wants to sleep outside in a tent. His sister teases him and tells him that he will get scared, and come inside before too long. Little Critter sits in his tent as the sun falls and stars begin to come out. He says,
It got dark.
It got darker.
The dark was big
Then when you turn the page, you see Little Critter’s dad has come out and is sleeping beside him in the tent.
But I am not a little too little, because I have my daddy to snuggle with me.
Sometimes the dark feels big. Sometimes the waters feel deep. Sometimes the unknown is heavy.
But never are we left alone. Little Critter’s dad does not come outside and carry Little Critter back to his own bed. He does not turn a spotlight on to take away the darkness. Instead, he simply comes outside and lays down in the darkness with him. He spends the long, cold, dark night beside him, never leaving Little Critter alone.
God won’t take away this phase of darkness, of uncertainty, of timelines and deadlines not being met and a baby coming and no house and selling a house and starting a business over…..he won’t lift me up out of the waters. Instead, He’ll come down and swim with me, until at last we reach the shore together.
We are in Philly this week. We will spend one more weekend in Maryland, and then will return to Philadelphia for the rest of the month. Adam will stay at the house to finish up repairs and put the house on the market, and eventually drive one our cars out to Utah.