I am writing from my daughter’s room at Arkansas Children’s Hospital, following her successful VNS surgery this morning. It is well after midnight; Caroline is asleep, and Kinsley is trying to be. It is an excellent time for reflection.
I am not writing the following to elicit sympathy from those who read it, nor am I seeking “cheering up”. I don’t want to come across as whiny or depressing; rather, I write in the hope that my (honest) ramblings may provide some encouragement to others.
Over the last few years, our ongoing struggles with Kinsley—learning about her brain abnormalities, receiving a diagnosis, traveling extensively to see specialists, attempting to manage her seizures, dealing with her daily special needs—have led to countless people telling us something to the effect of, “You guys are such amazing parents,” or “Your faith is such a great example to us.”
Those are kind words with kind intentions behind them, but sometimes they can be frustrating as well. You see, we didn’t ask to have the opportunity to be such wonderful parents, or to have the platform to wrestle with our faith in such a way that we can be good examples for others. And furthermore, to be frank, sometimes we really don’t feel like wonderful parents or great examples at all. We feel that we do no more than anyone else would in our shoes, we feel helpless—completely unable to do anything to help our little girl, and we feel so very, very tired—tired of seizures, tired of doctor appointments, and tired of our sweet princess having to deal with more than she should ever have to.
And yet…if God can somehow use our helpless and tired efforts to bring encouragement to someone else or to shine a ray of light into a dark world…praise the Lord. Truly, what wondrous things He accomplishes through human weakness.
What a blessing!
Although I do not find myself particularly inclined to do so, it sometimes can be tempting for those in full-time ministry to look down upon those who engage in “secular” work (you may even hear that terminology from time to time).
Over the last few years, as we have been on the receiving end of such amazing care from so many therapists (basically our favorite people ever), nurses, doctors, teachers, aides, etc., it has deeply reinforced in my own mind how sacred it is to use your vocation as a means of blessing others. God’s work is done in all sorts of places, and I am deeply grateful for those who have so clearly shown me that as we have traveled this journey.
What a blessing!
Throughout this process, there are times when I feel that I am at my wit’s end. Completely overwhelmed. Barely able to keep my head above water. Emotionally stressed. Spiritually fatigued. Physically exhausted.
Increasingly, I have come to suspect that we are sustained by prayer. Certainly our own prayers, but, in light of the spiritual fatigue I mentioned above, my prayers are not exactly great right now—they consist of a lot of sighs and pleadings and persistence and “groanings too deep for words”.
No, I believe that we are especially sustained by the prayers of others. From the beginning, it has been overwhelming to me the way that others have responded to our situation. It is beyond humbling to know that people from all over the world, including many we don’t even personally know, are praying for us. More than that, more people than I can count have told me that they pray for Kinsley and our family every day. How can I even respond to that? What a gift that is!
I am so deeply, deeply grateful. And beyond the prayers—every single kindness means so much: the kind words and messages we receive, the concerned questions people ask, the social media well-wishings, the silent hugs, the money for travel expenses slipped into a handshake—all of it. People extend us so much love so frequently, that it is all I can do to refrain from constantly bursting into tears (because that would be awkward, right?).
But those are healing tears—tears belonging to a Kingdom that seeks to restore the goodness of a broken world.
What a blessing!