Disclaimer: This is going to be a long one. 🙂
We are not shaken, we are not moved:
We'll wait upon You, Lord
Mighty Deliverer, our triumpth and truth
We wait upon You, Lord
As surely as the sun will rise,
You'll come to us
Certain as Your Word endures
This song, "You'll Come," has kind of been my anthem for the last few weeks. Right now as I sit here typing this, I'm watching the dark blues of night fade into cotton candy pinks and purples, preparing for the crescendo as the sun burts forth in a glorious display of color. The city below me is coming to life, as tiny little cars begin to make their way down winding streets and lights in the surrounding houses slowly flicker on. Even the sounds from the hospital are picking up intensity, as patients wake up, most of them to the realization of the fallen world they live in and their own state of brokenness.
That's right: I'm watching this majestic display of God's glory from the top story of Arlington Hospital, where I'm sitting next to my tiny grandmother as she puts up what may be her last stand against this world.
In the last few weeks, this place has become my second home: she's been ambulanced in here several times, staying for a few days, going back home only to repeat the process. As her body shuts down, I'm learning many things, both about life and about myself.
A big lesson is the reality of death. That's part of the deal with depravity: we live in a sinful world, but we don't live here very long. And sometimes, that's not a bad thing. Right now, Abuelita's body is barely functioning. She's in perpetual pain. She can barely hear or see or speak… Is this any way to live?
But I know the SECOND her eyes close on this earth, she's going to be immediately in the arms of Jesus, surrounded once again by her family and in a renewed body. Knowing that, it almost seems unfair for me to wish her to stay alive… Because really, her death isn't goodbye, it's just a chance for her to truly live again. And I know that on the day I die, she'll be waiting for me in heaven, the Abuelita I knew and loved, not this shell of my grandmother who barely makes it through each day.
Emotionally, I'm on a bit of a roller coaster. Part of this is due to the fact that spending the night with her, whether at the hospital or at her house, means not sleeping and meeting the constant demands of the elderly, most of which I am unable to satisfy. As a doer and a helper, it breaks my heart not to be able to respond the her many, many requests, but I'm also learning that I can't do everything for everybody– sometimes, I have to let things go, trusting that, ulitmately, the Lord provides, and though He can use me in some situations, that doesn't mean He answers to me or my plans for the lives of those around me. It's an important lesson, but a hard one to learn when you're sleep deprived and your grandma is dying. Hence the roller coaster.
As all of this is going on, however, the Lord has just been pouring on the blessings in my life. Pouring is an understaement. He's released the floodgates and I can barely stand under the weight of it all.
So many people have come into my life this semester when all I was expecting as I prepared for the Race was loneliness and work. I say I was prepared for it, but honestly, to have so many people open up their lives and their hearts to me has been not only a blessing, but a lifesaver, because they have helped me walk through this battle with death and remember that God has it all in His hands. I don't think I would have been able to do it on my own, and I'm so grateful God placed each one of them in my life.
The Race was supposed to be the most exciting opportunity to come my way, but suddenly I find myself bombarded with places where God can and probably will use me. Things that I never expected or anticipated, but the excitement of it all is carrying me through these long nights in the hospital, when it seems all hope is lost.
When Job was being tested, he asked, "shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" [Job 2:10]
While my squad is on the field, we are going to see a LOT of pain. We're going to watch people suffer and die, mourn and cry. But we're also going to see healing and life, laughter and joy. For us to only accept the good from God is an immature faith. For us to throw up our hands in the air when the pain comes and give up is ALSO an immature faith. In ALL tings, we are called to give the glory back to God. He doesn't cause the bad things, but He certainly works through them, and we can either be with Him or against Him.
And, "if God is for us, who can be against us?" [Romans 8:31]
So, as I hit replay on my anthem song one more time, I have decided, I have resolved to wait upon the Lord. Because, as certain as the dawn appears, He'll come.
The sun has made it into the sky, filling the earth with light and warmth, the perfect picture of God's love and beauty in an incredible, undeniable display. The night can never last for too long, for the darkness is obliterated with the first hint of the sun's appearance.
"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." [Lamentations 3:22-23]
Please continue to pray for Race prep. As all my time and attention has been diverted to Abuelita, I haven't been able to do hardly anything else. I still need to write my letters, send them out, get my gear, shots and insurance, and finish raising the money. And training camp is in less than a month!
Luckily, the Lord provides. But, as James 5:16 says, "the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." Please please be praying for me!
Thanks!
