I sit in a silent house with nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and the crackle of the fire. I hold vigil over my sleeping child, whose body is fighting off the attacks of a migraine. At first the silence is deafening.
Even though a quiet moment is a gift, I have been trained to the static noise of life. As I allow myself to bask in the silence, thoughts begin to tumble. Thoughts I've held at bay because I am a stuffer.
The past 36 hours have left me spent, feeling swallowed by the highs and lows. I've shared our financial journey here and here. You would think by now I'd be over myself.
This is when I feel like I need to give you permission to slip out the back door quietly, shaking your head because you thought you were attending a "You Can Do It" seminar. Not today. Today I am just going to be me. Just the real me. The me that has highs and lows. The me who has more questions than answers right now.
We received our medical bill yesterday. A bill that includes an ER visit, CT scan, xrays and lab work. Even with medical insurance, it's overwhelming. I suddenly feel like an idiot who just squandered her children's Christmas away in the name of some bruised ribs.
2 steps forward, 3 steps back
The all too familiar churning of my insides begin to assail.
How will we ever get ahead?
My husband sees the fear behind my lying eyes. Eyes that try to be brave.
He whispers assurances, but my heart is too weary to readily agree.
I am broken.
Then I am angry at the injustice.
Mad at myself.
Frustrated with the impossible mountain we can't seem to conquer.
Questioning my decisions. At what point do I determine that our financial upheavals may be the end of living my dream as a stay-at-home-mom? My dream? His calling? The lines are blurred.
Tonight, as I sit in the silence I stumble onto this post. A post that quite possibly will change my life. The pictures are gorgeous, but the story causes me to tremble.
We have so much. Yes, I feel like we are drowning, but suddenly my personal storm turns to an afternoon shower compared to Jonathan's lonely existence.
But he chooses to sing praise.
I move on to this story and I am brought to my knees.
Lydia has waited for 3 years. Three years of waiting for God to provide. She waited as I yapped about pumpkin butter and peppermint mochas.
When I was a child my parents faced a financial crisis. My dad's answer was, "we need to give more." It doesn't make sense on paper... or a napkin, or on anything else you try to write the math. But God's ways are not our ways.
So on an evening that I thought would be perfect for a little commiseration, I find myself turned upside down. My heart burns for a child who is waiting on the Lord. Waiting for me to make a difference. Though we often wonder how we are going to afford dental care for our own three, surely we can find a way to provide $38. After all, it's an eternal investment.