I awoke on New Year’s Day with an inexplicable lightness in my spirit. Matt brought me a cup of coffee as I lay in bed (by anyone’s account, a great way to start the day). I am by no means a morning person, needing a good 5 minutes on the edge of the bed with half-closed eyes before I can even set foot in slipper. Which is why the brightness in my voice gave Matt cause to remark, “Well, you’re quite perky this morning!”
I grinned sleepily at him from under the quilt. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so…secure. So excited to continue. So ready to run.
“Yes I am!”
“Why? I mean, the present circumstances…”
“You’re right. It’s not exactly logical. But I’m still happy!”
On December 27th, Jesse was attached to a spider web of EEG sensors and laying in a hospital bed in order to evaluate him for epilepsy. The report from our Neurologist came through the next day, stating that though we are still waiting for the EEG report, he’s largely convinced Jesse is – like his older brother – also on the autism spectrum (though only a formal ADOS evaluation will tell). Having suffered from a low-grade flare through the holidays, I was beset by daily nosebleeds, including one “hemorrhage” that went on for 5 hours. We had one foot out the door to the E.R. because I looked like the president of some suburban moms fight club. We are moving and between homes. But we’ve recently found out that the contract for our new house may have fallen through too late and that, for most purposes, we’re now technically homeless.
HAPPY. Believe it or not, I am.
If it seems as though my posts take on a somewhat Eyeore-esque self-pitying tone, well then, you got me. I’m prone to listing woes – partly, because listing things helps me remember what needs yet to be tackled, and partly, because Matt and I are convinced we’ve hit the worst of our stretches, until another one comes along. In a way, my listing serves as a reminder that it could always get worse. Here though, there is no self-sympathy. I list to illustrate the illogicality of my happiness.
And to tell you from whence it springs:
“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 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.
From the book of Lamentations – which chronicles the destruction of Israel and the horror of their fate after Babylonian invasion – comes an unlikely verse of promise and light. Because of the Lord’s great love, WE ARE NOT CONSUMED.
Because of what God has promised us, we are not consumed by illness or bankruptcy or loneliness or loss. We are not swallowed by the distress of fear or hunger or uncertainty or despair. We are strong in the face of adversity. Our beings are too light to be devoured by the darkness, for God in us is the antidote to every shadow.
To you of the hidden disabilities and the obvious calamities, I wish you a Happy New Year. May you ever fix your eyes on the Lord’s bright promises – those that make you safe, and strong, and swift.