The sterile, but not so sterile-looking hospital shower has been my emotional-release refuge. A 3' X 3' tile box--the only place protected from the unending intervention of well intended intruders. And my way of protecting our chickadee from seeing her mother's moments of weakness. The spraying water is my advocate as is it muffles my sobs and relaxes my shaking shoulders.
Three messy weeks have been mounting into these emotional episodes: MD in a Utah hospital with multiple infections in multiple organs. Brendon back in Qatar packing up our home and trying to figure out his career's future. Clark with Grandma and Grandpa Knudsen wondering where his mommy and daddy are. And I am here with Mary Deane trying to keep my head above water. The four of us are apart and homeless. Despite the chaos, which seems to be multiplying, there is a surprising underlying peace. It's been interesting to learn that such an oxymoron can exist, and should exist.
There is holy among the messy in each of our lives requiring us to pray for it and look for it: A refuge in a tile box. A realization of love in miles of distance. A handhold from me to give her courage to battle this disease. An appreciation for the small things when problems seem big. An "I love you" when her pain subsides. A gratitude of life in a betraying body. A calming father's blessing despite a noisy hospital room. A spontaneous air kiss even when I make her do hard things. And ultimately, a faith in God in a world of heartache.
Three messy weeks have been mounting into these emotional episodes: MD in a Utah hospital with multiple infections in multiple organs. Brendon back in Qatar packing up our home and trying to figure out his career's future. Clark with Grandma and Grandpa Knudsen wondering where his mommy and daddy are. And I am here with Mary Deane trying to keep my head above water. The four of us are apart and homeless. Despite the chaos, which seems to be multiplying, there is a surprising underlying peace. It's been interesting to learn that such an oxymoron can exist, and should exist.
There is holy among the messy in each of our lives requiring us to pray for it and look for it: A refuge in a tile box. A realization of love in miles of distance. A handhold from me to give her courage to battle this disease. An appreciation for the small things when problems seem big. An "I love you" when her pain subsides. A gratitude of life in a betraying body. A calming father's blessing despite a noisy hospital room. A spontaneous air kiss even when I make her do hard things. And ultimately, a faith in God in a world of heartache.
13 comments:
You go ahead and use that shower. Let it out and don't hold back.
May the Lord give you and yours peace and comfort during this difficult time.
I was crying while reading this. My heart aches for you. I'll pray for you and your beautiful family. I hope you'll feel peace and comfort.
I am also crying reading this post. I am sorry that you are going through this. I hope you can feel the love and prayers that we (and so many people) are sending your way.
MD is lucky to have such a wonderful mother by her side! You carry such a gentle and kind strength with you--I even honestly remember thinking that about you the first time we met 20 years ago as kids. I am inspired by your faith and the way you see the divine goodness in all things.
A virtual hug, dear friend. You are a good mama to manage, not suppress, your emotions out of the sight of your baby girl. I admire you. God bless you and yours.
You have such a beautiful way of putting all this into words! And how amazing of you to see your blessings in all the commotion. We are sending all the positive prayers and thoughts that we can your way. Hope you are reunited soon.
I can't imagine, I am glad you are finding refuge and peace. My heart aches for each of you. You've been in my thoughts and prayers. I hope MD will get better soon, and that Brandon will figure things out as well.
I am one of your sis-in-law's (olivia) friends. I was super interested in your blog after I found out your sweet daughter had CF. My nephew has CF and is probably about a year younger than your girl.
CF is a cruel disease and I hate how vicious and scary it can be. I'll be offering prayers in your family's behalf... Especially for that sweet dolly of yours.
Your post brought me to tears and wanted to send you love and cyber waves of encouragement from Texas.
Beautifully honest post. Thanks for letting Abbey and me visit you and MD last night. It was so good to hug you and see MD's brilliant, happy smile. We love you and will continue to pray for MD's health with more smiles and giggles to come. XXOO
The hardest things seem to happen to the best people. Maybe that's why they are a cut above the rest. You, MD and the rest of your family are such incredible examples to everyone who has the privilege of hearing your story. I'm sure I speak for all when I say that we learn volumes from your experiences. Thank you for sharing, Ann.
This is so beautifully and honestly written, Ann. What a gift you have to feel the holy while immersed in the messy. We love you and love you some more.
Beautiful, Ann. Love you.
So beautiful, Ann. You are my hero!
Dear Ann: Please know that you are in our thoughts and prayers across the miles in the Ukraine, and that your names of continually on the temple prayer roll. Love, Aunt Lynn and Uncle Dick
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