We’re Going To Be Okay

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Photo by Flickr user: Kristina D.C. Hoeppner

Sometimes, you’re getting group texts from your dad about how brave your mom is during her first chemo, and while you’re looking at them, your baby falls out of her high chair onto her head, and you’re at a restaurant trying to be cheerful for your sweet mother-in-law’s birthday dinner, and you whisk your freshly injured baby into the waiting area and stand facing the painting on the wall so no one will see you crying. But, you see that you’re face to face with a painting of a guy standing in a field full of bulls.

And the painting makes you think of being a five-year-old flower girl at your mom’s second wedding because her new husband – the guy that would adopt and love you as if you were his daughter by blood – would attend his own wedding with a major pectoral injury he got cutting horns off of a bull at the farm his family owned. This is the guy who married your mom. Your mom who is getting her first chemo treatment during the birthday party you’re at right now. And your baby is still crying from her fall.  Now she has a big red bump on her little fuzzy head. It happened on your watch.

Once you gather yourself enough to return to the table, your older kid wants to know why you’re crying and you say, “Grown up stuff, Baby. Eat your broccoli.”

Finally, you’re putting your baby to bed and your mom texts you that she’s nauseated and you feel sick inside, imagining the worst, preparing for the future, trying to have hope while also trying not to get your hopes up.

Then, you have a moment where you feel sorry for yourself, which is immediately replaced by feeling guilty for being so selfish. You think about what your mom must be feeling. What your mother-in-law with the weepy daughter-in-law at her party must be feeling. And then you feel even worse.

And then, you remember that crazy worldview you have that shapes who you are. The belief that a dead man rose and will come back for you and your mom on a white horse (Revelation 19) – that He split seas (Exodus 14) and healed lepers (Luke 17) and created the universe from nothing (Genesis 1) –and you remember the times He healed you and answered impossible prayers and opened your eyes to His goodness and His sovereignty.

And you exhale.
And you smile.
And you text your mom pictures of your babies playing.
And include lots of emojis.
And you go to sleep and dream of dark things.
And wake up with fresh mercies.

We’re going to be okay.

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13 thoughts on “We’re Going To Be Okay

  1. Kathy Thompson (Blue)

    This is so beautiful, Prayers are and have been coming the family’s way, I’ve know your mom for a long time, back when she went to Carol City Baptist Church.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your mom is a brave and wonderful lady. I love her! She is going to get through this and to the other side just like I did. God is going to heal her body through chemo like He did mine. And He’s going to carry your family just like He did mine. He’s a GOOD GOOD Father. Praying for all of you!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Reblogged this on Scarlet Hiltibidal and commented:

    Started my blog a year ago today and this was my first post. Last year, we were praying and fighting for joy as we walked through darkness, as a family. This year, our circumstances are rosier, and our God hasn’t changed one bit. He is still full of mercy and love, He is with us now like He was then. He is good now, just like He was then. Thankful to be the daughter of the One whose name is Faithful and True. I knew, when I wrote this, that we were going to be okay, and here we all are. Mom is healed. Grandpa #1 and #2 are in heaven with Jesus. We’re on the hunt for a third car seat and an extra chair for the dining room table. We are more thank okay, because our God is always good.

    Like

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