In June of 2013 Arwyn fell (a whole two feet - maybe) and ruptured an unknown aneurysmal bone cyst. She had to be life flighted to Primary Children's hospital where she would undergo emergency life saving surgery. She ultimately would have a piece of her skull removed. We were told to expect the worst because the location of the cyst was at the base of her skull right next to the brainstem.
She lived. Not only did she live but she thrived. We were told that she may need to be in the hospital for 5-7 days. She was there for 3. No negative implications. You would never know what happened to her if you didn't know the story personally.
She survived but I was a mess. My anxiety was so intense. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. All I could do was watch her. This wasn't the first time I had almost lost a baby. Ansli had spent 4 weeks in NICU because her heart would stop beating. I would watch as they would give her little body what felt like hours but really it was just seconds to restart on its own. Day after day, episode after episode. Ray was gone with the military - again. She was my 6th and she had come early. She was 6lbs 6oz though and I was told our NICU stay would be short. So when she started having these episodes I truly was lost - I was anxious and fearful - terrified of what could happen.
The doctors started her on caffeine and she would finally come home with an apnea monitor, only to end up back in the hospital because she had stopped breathing and turned blue on me at home - I would learn that she had RSV.
Another miracle would be performed. I was told that with her being a premie, and by this time she was barely 5lbs, that we could be in the hospital for a week or more. We were there for four days. She came home on oxygen with the apnea monitor and what felt like the entire hospital room of equipment.
Then unfolds the year of Ray being gone, us moving three times. Then the next year we would move again with more unknowns and anxieties and I would deliver my 7th and just when all was calm and all was bright there for a few months, Arwyn would almost die.
One day while in my room - this is the day after getting home from the hospital with Arwyn - a chair would get knocked over in kitchen. It was loud and it scared me. I started to cry and I lay down on my bed so I could let myself cry and get through that moment. I knew that nothing was wrong but my brain didn't. It was still jumpy and hypersensitive.
My cell phone rang and I didn't recognize the number. Thinking it may be the hospital calling I answered. It was my neighbor - my relief society president - fellow church member. She could hear that I had been crying.
Her advice to me? Now is not the time to fall apart. Your kids need to see you strong. You can cry when they go to sleep.
I laughed. No. My kids did not need to be sheltered from my fragile emotions. They needed to see that anxiety and fear are real. That we can take a moment to fall apart. To feel the emotion in its rawest form. That we can ache and cry to the point that the tears temporarily stop falling. And then pull yourself together just enough to get the next task done. They needed to see that sometimes it takes a while to process something dramatic and traumatic even if God performed a miracle.
The doctor gave me an opportunity to say goodbye to my daughter that day before her surgery. They did not think she would make it. She was bleeding in - on - around her brain and she was bleeding a lot. Too much to survive.
I was still processing that moment of saying goodbye to her even though she was right there beside me, very much alive. Healing takes time. And it usually is messy.
The Lord has asked us to come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit. He did not set parameters of what needs to happen before we seek him. He has not asked us to pull ourselves together and then come to him. He wants all of the broken, messy, disorganized parts of us. He needs our vulnerability. He needs our childlike qualities in order to heal us.
When I was going through what I affectionately refer to as my 'healing process' things were messy. I was going to therapy once a week, sometimes twice a week. I was severely depressed and I would have flashbacks and panic attacks at any given moment. Sometimes those moments were inconvenient for those around me.
I would be told that I needed to pull it together or that "we all have dark moments" and that we still have to pull it together because no one wants to see it.
I laugh now typing that.
I laugh because it is funny to me how quick people are to sweep away or cover up an opportunity to be like Christ.
I don't remember one story of him telling anyone to pull it together. I don't remember one story of him telling someone that if they could be a little less emotionally wrecked or if they could clean themselves up a bit that he could heal them.
That's because there isn't one.
He went to them in their mess. He walked among their messes and in their messiness. He touched people who had not bathed probably since their illnesses had taken hold.
He did not turn to the woman who so desperately reached out to touch his garment and tell her to pull herself together. He recognized, empathized and had compassion with her desperateness.
The reason these people were able to healed is because they were emotionally vulnerable, they could not cover up their brokenness with outward action. They were broken physically and emotionally. Their hearts were in a place in which they could receive his healing grace. They were then made whole. He healed them physically and emotionally.
There are many people today who suffer from broken hearts. Their lives in one way or another have been shattered. Whether by their own decisions or by another's hand.
Society is quick to overlook them and when those broken emotions spill out onto society's lap they are quick to give advice of how to clean up that mess so it doesn't happen again.
We champion our cancer survivors, those whose homes have been destroyed by fire or fierce weather and other outward easy to clean up messes. We champion those whose outward obvious trial is one we can see, ones that do not require of us much emotional vulnerability or emotional interaction.
It is easier to help those with physical trials because we ourselves refuse to be vulnerable emotionally. We flatter ourselves that our ability to 'get over' something somehow means we are stronger than the person who lives an honest raw emotional messy life.
Except that by 'getting over' things in life it steals the opportunity to know our Savior to truly be healed by him. By dismissing our emotions or cramming them down our mental pipe so as not to address them we miss an opportunity to see the hand of the Lord to feel of his love and saving grace.
We get so caught up in looking perfect and righteous and having it all together that we miss the opportunity to be vulnerable and broken and to have our hearts filled with the love and light of our Savior. We miss the opportunity to be loved by him and then go and share that love.
He has never asked us to have it all together. He never asked us to look good or be so stoic as to not be able to feel raw deep beautiful painful emotion.
To know his light we must let go and feel.
Sometimes feeling means no boxes get checked. You miss meetings, or classes, or the park or the date. Sometimes letting go to feel means that from a mortal perspective you do not have it all together for a time. But what is having it together if we are unable to experience the hand of the Lord? To feel of his healing power and to know with certainty that he is Jesus the Christ.
We didn't come here to look good for other people. We didn't come to check boxes, or to fulfill society's terms of having a good life or being a good person. We came here to prove our loyalty to the Lord. We came here to show that despite all the distractions of life that we can let go, that we can clear the fog of mortality and put down our earthly ego so that he can heal us and show us the way back to him.
To you who are living the messy emotional life. To you who can't seem to 'hold it together' the way everyone else seems to be doing it. You are enough. Just as you are. "Lean not unto thine own understanding" Prov. 3:5. Trust the Lord. Trust in being broken. Life is not race. You take the time you need to heal. Healing is hard. And it does take time. Pull yourself together when you must. Embrace those broken moments and lean on the Lord for he will carry you in those darkest moments. Please know that in those moments you feel to be walking alone. You are not. He is there beside you, healing you and blessing you with an increase of strength.
Faith is not knowing, but trusting. Have faith in our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. Have faith that he knows you and he loves you and that he will not leave you. Have faith in his ability to heal you and relieve you of your earthly ache.
She lived. Not only did she live but she thrived. We were told that she may need to be in the hospital for 5-7 days. She was there for 3. No negative implications. You would never know what happened to her if you didn't know the story personally.
She survived but I was a mess. My anxiety was so intense. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. All I could do was watch her. This wasn't the first time I had almost lost a baby. Ansli had spent 4 weeks in NICU because her heart would stop beating. I would watch as they would give her little body what felt like hours but really it was just seconds to restart on its own. Day after day, episode after episode. Ray was gone with the military - again. She was my 6th and she had come early. She was 6lbs 6oz though and I was told our NICU stay would be short. So when she started having these episodes I truly was lost - I was anxious and fearful - terrified of what could happen.
The doctors started her on caffeine and she would finally come home with an apnea monitor, only to end up back in the hospital because she had stopped breathing and turned blue on me at home - I would learn that she had RSV.
Another miracle would be performed. I was told that with her being a premie, and by this time she was barely 5lbs, that we could be in the hospital for a week or more. We were there for four days. She came home on oxygen with the apnea monitor and what felt like the entire hospital room of equipment.
Then unfolds the year of Ray being gone, us moving three times. Then the next year we would move again with more unknowns and anxieties and I would deliver my 7th and just when all was calm and all was bright there for a few months, Arwyn would almost die.
One day while in my room - this is the day after getting home from the hospital with Arwyn - a chair would get knocked over in kitchen. It was loud and it scared me. I started to cry and I lay down on my bed so I could let myself cry and get through that moment. I knew that nothing was wrong but my brain didn't. It was still jumpy and hypersensitive.
My cell phone rang and I didn't recognize the number. Thinking it may be the hospital calling I answered. It was my neighbor - my relief society president - fellow church member. She could hear that I had been crying.
Her advice to me? Now is not the time to fall apart. Your kids need to see you strong. You can cry when they go to sleep.
I laughed. No. My kids did not need to be sheltered from my fragile emotions. They needed to see that anxiety and fear are real. That we can take a moment to fall apart. To feel the emotion in its rawest form. That we can ache and cry to the point that the tears temporarily stop falling. And then pull yourself together just enough to get the next task done. They needed to see that sometimes it takes a while to process something dramatic and traumatic even if God performed a miracle.
The doctor gave me an opportunity to say goodbye to my daughter that day before her surgery. They did not think she would make it. She was bleeding in - on - around her brain and she was bleeding a lot. Too much to survive.
I was still processing that moment of saying goodbye to her even though she was right there beside me, very much alive. Healing takes time. And it usually is messy.
The Lord has asked us to come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit. He did not set parameters of what needs to happen before we seek him. He has not asked us to pull ourselves together and then come to him. He wants all of the broken, messy, disorganized parts of us. He needs our vulnerability. He needs our childlike qualities in order to heal us.
When I was going through what I affectionately refer to as my 'healing process' things were messy. I was going to therapy once a week, sometimes twice a week. I was severely depressed and I would have flashbacks and panic attacks at any given moment. Sometimes those moments were inconvenient for those around me.
I would be told that I needed to pull it together or that "we all have dark moments" and that we still have to pull it together because no one wants to see it.
I laugh now typing that.
I laugh because it is funny to me how quick people are to sweep away or cover up an opportunity to be like Christ.
I don't remember one story of him telling anyone to pull it together. I don't remember one story of him telling someone that if they could be a little less emotionally wrecked or if they could clean themselves up a bit that he could heal them.
That's because there isn't one.
He went to them in their mess. He walked among their messes and in their messiness. He touched people who had not bathed probably since their illnesses had taken hold.
He did not turn to the woman who so desperately reached out to touch his garment and tell her to pull herself together. He recognized, empathized and had compassion with her desperateness.
The reason these people were able to healed is because they were emotionally vulnerable, they could not cover up their brokenness with outward action. They were broken physically and emotionally. Their hearts were in a place in which they could receive his healing grace. They were then made whole. He healed them physically and emotionally.
There are many people today who suffer from broken hearts. Their lives in one way or another have been shattered. Whether by their own decisions or by another's hand.
Society is quick to overlook them and when those broken emotions spill out onto society's lap they are quick to give advice of how to clean up that mess so it doesn't happen again.
We champion our cancer survivors, those whose homes have been destroyed by fire or fierce weather and other outward easy to clean up messes. We champion those whose outward obvious trial is one we can see, ones that do not require of us much emotional vulnerability or emotional interaction.
It is easier to help those with physical trials because we ourselves refuse to be vulnerable emotionally. We flatter ourselves that our ability to 'get over' something somehow means we are stronger than the person who lives an honest raw emotional messy life.
Except that by 'getting over' things in life it steals the opportunity to know our Savior to truly be healed by him. By dismissing our emotions or cramming them down our mental pipe so as not to address them we miss an opportunity to see the hand of the Lord to feel of his love and saving grace.
We get so caught up in looking perfect and righteous and having it all together that we miss the opportunity to be vulnerable and broken and to have our hearts filled with the love and light of our Savior. We miss the opportunity to be loved by him and then go and share that love.
He has never asked us to have it all together. He never asked us to look good or be so stoic as to not be able to feel raw deep beautiful painful emotion.
To know his light we must let go and feel.
Sometimes feeling means no boxes get checked. You miss meetings, or classes, or the park or the date. Sometimes letting go to feel means that from a mortal perspective you do not have it all together for a time. But what is having it together if we are unable to experience the hand of the Lord? To feel of his healing power and to know with certainty that he is Jesus the Christ.
We didn't come here to look good for other people. We didn't come to check boxes, or to fulfill society's terms of having a good life or being a good person. We came here to prove our loyalty to the Lord. We came here to show that despite all the distractions of life that we can let go, that we can clear the fog of mortality and put down our earthly ego so that he can heal us and show us the way back to him.
To you who are living the messy emotional life. To you who can't seem to 'hold it together' the way everyone else seems to be doing it. You are enough. Just as you are. "Lean not unto thine own understanding" Prov. 3:5. Trust the Lord. Trust in being broken. Life is not race. You take the time you need to heal. Healing is hard. And it does take time. Pull yourself together when you must. Embrace those broken moments and lean on the Lord for he will carry you in those darkest moments. Please know that in those moments you feel to be walking alone. You are not. He is there beside you, healing you and blessing you with an increase of strength.
Faith is not knowing, but trusting. Have faith in our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. Have faith that he knows you and he loves you and that he will not leave you. Have faith in his ability to heal you and relieve you of your earthly ache.
Comments
Post a Comment