Sitting in the office waiting to see my pulmonologist, I began to consider the past several months and what blessings that I have found.
My friends and family have supported me thru fears and tears. I have found gratitude despite having to do hard things, like submit to being a pin cushion. I have weighed and counted costs of my dreams and activities, and sometimes my plans have changed based on those measurements. But the best thing has been growing closer to the God of mystery.
I don't have any answer to why this scary thing happened, other than the world and our bodies are broken. It isn't the answer that I really care about though. What came to mind as I sat in the office looking at pictures of healthy lungs and inhalers is: will I go back to being "normal?"
For weeks I simply wanted to be who I was in June-ignorant of the danger within me & fairly carefree. I didn't want the uncertainty and shadow that had crept over my life. As I trudged thru this journey, pouting and crying out, finding myself lost and afraid, over and over, I learned that I, slowly, became better at placing myself in God's care.
When visiting the Silver Mosquito, I would rest in the understanding that God knew about this mess long before any of us. When frustrated with being winded and left out, I sat down and spent time in God's presence. I found a rhythm, like breathing, in His presence which would calm the anxiety and offer strength. Searching scripture for comfort taught me how well God has provided for me, before I knew that I was in need.
If being "normal" means going back to being fully self reliant, and often blind and deaf to Him, well, it suddenly is a lot less attractive.
Life has this way of lending itself to falsehoods of control and self reliance. I make my own choices, right? I make my own fortune. I better myself through education and therapy and self help books. I choose. I decide. I do. But do I?
I have re-learned over these months that God is my source-of hope, of security, of transformation. While I may be finished with my journey of blood clots and Coumadin and hospitals, I am not finished with God. But not as much because I choose as because he is not done with me.