Some days are better than others

Today started out with a brisk cold shower as the broiler had encountered an error sometime in the night leaving the tank full of cooling water which was awaiting my barely awake self.  Somehow that little error seemed to ripple throughout the whole day.  I made it to work on time, starting to thaw just in time to be plunged into the fire of an exam room filled with a furious patient and family.  And just to be clear, I am not actually in bed with the drug companies who set their prices so high that hardly anyone can pay.  I thought that leaving that room would be relief, but when I did there was a full blown emergency unfolding in a room across the clinic, and I was the only provider in sight.  (Honesty check here.  Deep inside, I wanted to turn and run.  Instead I did the appropriate thing….I moved forward into the next room. “Check my own pulse first.”  Oh, my med school professors would be proud.)

Throughout the day at work I continued to ask myself if that first cold drop should have just signaled an “ABORT! ABORT!  Return to your bed.  Do not leave!”  If that message had transmitted, I didn’t pick it up, and so in the chaos I found myself asking for donuts instead.  By patient number two it was clear that today would not be a day of stellar dietary management.  Coffee eased a bit the frost throughout the morning but not nearly enough to turn the ship around.  There are a few absolute truths in the medical world, and this is one:  When a day takes a turn for the dark side, doesn’t usually shift gears again.  The rest of day was messy.  No smooth expected normal about it.  And even now, I feel a bit of shudder as my warm shower tonight still couldn’t clear the tremors of this day.

Funny enough, or not, the most upsetting part of this day had nothing to do with the temp of the water or my patients.  Today was also hard because we are on the eve of another separation in our family.  Kit, Naomi, Jonathan and Teags leave in just a day for Maryland.  Naomi is going to be working with a team of specialists to help with pain and strengthening.  She is also seeing a few other specialists while she is there.  In the world of hypermobility care she is going to be working with an amazing team.  She is stronger than she has been in 3 years, and we’ve been referring to this month as EDS camp.  And as much as we are all positive and hopeful, we also know the toll of being apart from each other on all of us.  We miss each other.  We love each other.  We are stronger when we are together. 

So the reality that we are about to be apart for four weeks was like the rocky undercurrent to the whirlwind  of my day.  This week I have been pondering what our life could look like to an outsider.  Are we seen as treasure hunters (we are not nearly as fast moving as the “National Treasure” guy)?  More importantly that what anyone may think, are we running after some intangible “treasure”?  Having spent more than a few nights in a Ronald McDonald house these last three years, I am well acquainted with what a family will do to seek the care their child needs.  We have encountered and listened to fellow parents sacrificing anything for the hope that this treatment or that specialist will “work”.  Isn’t that what we do?  Exhaust every single avenue for the health of our children? 

It may appear that way, and at times, it has felt that way in all honesty.  Yet, in these years God has been doing a remarkable work in me; in all of us.  He has opened our eyes so beautifully to the reality that the “treasure” Naomi needs, that we need for her, is within us; within her.  God is the only one who can heal.  He is the one who knit her together.  I do not have confidence in any person.  I have confidence in Him.   In order to send her away from me, I have to know deep in my core that I am only sending her away from my side, but she remains rested safely in His hands no matter where she goes.  This time will be a beautiful gift, because He is going with her.  He is orchestrating her days.  Everything that she gains from being away (even the parts that are difficult) will be used for the good in her life, because her Creator is seeing to it.

Naomi Cross Country skied 2 weeks ago, first time in 3 years!

That truth is particularly helpful at the end of a day like this one has been.  Even on the bad days; even on the worst days (of which this wasn’t one), He is working together for the good of those who love Him.  Will there be hard days?  Yes. Absolutely.  But there will be fabulous days as well.  Days that fill you up to the top of your head and down to your tip toes with bubbles of joy.  Days that you could be like the 60 + year old man I saw Nordic skiing the other day in the sunlight, so happy at the absurdity of the goodness of the snow, that he was singing, “weeeeee, weeeeee…” as he poled down the hill.  He made me laugh out loud from delight.   So on the days that my insides ache and tremble from sadness, or the days I want to flee from frustration, or on those I want to dance around with my hands in the air from joy I can rest knowing that God is going with me.  He is seeing to the details of my life. He is seeing to the details of her life.  The only treasure worth ever seeking is already hers.  It won’t be found in a medical office or at a pharmacy.  Those places may be part of the gifts He gives her along the journey, but He is the treasure.  And He offers her all of Himself.  Every day; good and bad ones. 

In Matthew 6 Jesus spoke of this treasure…and today, in the middle of a fiasco His words kept rattling around in my head.  “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life… See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. ²⁹ Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ³⁰ If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? ³¹ So do not worry…But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” 

I will be happier in 4 weeks than I was in this moment.

Saturday will come. They will board the plane and fly away from me.  But they will not be leaving the Savior’s side.  The treasure is going with them.  This time is a gift, and before we know it I will be running into the arms of my love for hugs, and seeing all their sweet faces again.  I’m pretty sure on that day I will be singing, “weeeeeee, weeeeee,” snow hill or not.