Monday, March 17, 2014

A Rainbow of Hope for all the Unlucky

It's Saint Patrick's Day and I'm most certainly not feeling all the bit Irish or lucky.  But rather unlucky. My fingers type gently as my sick son lies restlessly in bed next to me trying to get comfortable and stave off another CVS attack.  I hate chronic illnesses.  Even in periods of health they loom over you like a cloud of misfortune just waiting to break through and shower down. I'd take the healing of this disease over any pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Good fortune.

I don't really believe in these things.  And although my heart wrestles with understanding why my son has to be sick, or why loved ones around me have to suffer, or why anyone on this earth has to struggle, I trust that God is in control of all things and that He brings good and purpose out of each of them.  Yes, even the unlucky moments are colored in His favor.

Another toss and turn.
Another groan.
Another cry out.
A mother never grows comfortable or desensitized to these sounds.
The look of sheer fear and worry in her child's eyes.
They never find acceptance in her heart.
But rather crack and splinter a heart up something fierce.

The day's not over and I cling onto hope for healing.  For this bout to pass.  Perhaps hospitalization won't occur.  But the sure-tell rash on the right side of his face and the numerous trips to the bathroom already make my heart race with worry and dread.  I keep a written log next to me.  I'm a timekeeper of sickness.  Marking and matching each trip to the bathroom with the face on the clock.  Anxiously worrying that the gap between these times will grow too close.  To the point on no return.  Where he has reached his threshold and is in full-blown-attack-mode.  Bags packed and hospital-bound.  But, we're not there yet.

So I pray.
And pray.
And pray some more.
And rally up all the prayer warriors I know to follow along.

He cries out, "This isn't fair." No, my son, it isn't.  I couldn't agree with you more.  He says,  "I don't want to hurt.  I don't want to be sick again. I hate this!"  And everything in me does too.  He's 10. Full of life and adventure.  Growing up too fast, yet I still see so much littleness in him.  It's in his "snuggle" he sleeps with nightly and holds against his face this very moment for comfort and familiarity.  It's the big stuffed puppy, "Jackie," who loyally lays by his side.  What a good dog.  And it's in the very name my ears still love to hear spoken from his lips. "Mommy."  For some day soon, my name will be shortened for good.

He wants me near.  He cries and wants his daddy home.  He wonders what got him sick this time.  He asks me if he will be better tomorrow.  He doesn't want to go to the hospital.  He doesn't want an IV.  No, he wants blueberries.  But he can't have blueberries right now.  That's not fair either.

My heart sinks and somersaults within me.  I won't even get into the insurance issues that complicate and exasperate the stress of this all.  I stroke his forehead and speak words of calm and comfort.  We play music to help still our hearts.  I soak the words in like they are cool water in the desert:

"Don't you worry about anything.  Instead pray about everything.  Tell God what you need and thank Him for what He has done.  And the peace of God far beyond what we can understand will guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus."

So I do as the lyrics suggest.  I pray. And thank. And tell God what we need.  And with confidence and expectant faith, I wait for Him to follow through on this Philippians 4:6-7 promise.  He is faithful to it.

On this day of good fortune and all things lucky, in the thick of worry and fear of what could come, I reach for the pot of gold that's available to me right now.  A rainbow of hope and promises found in Him and His Word.  It's available for you too.  It's treasure for all who come to Him in need and believe in the saving name of Jesus.  If you want to know more about this, I'd love to share.  I'd love to hear your story.  I'd love to pray for you.  You can click the facebook link on my blog above and private message me there.  I welcome you to do this.

When life isn't dropping much luck into your lap, please know there is always a rainbow of hope to be found.  No leprechauns or four leaf clovers necessary.  Just a God who is big enough and mighty enough to meet all of your needs.  Give Him a try.  He's worth searching for, and will be your greatest treasure...through all those lucky and not so lucky days.

And that's where this post was supposed to end...Unfortunately, the tides quickly changed since I was able to post this entry above.  I'm no longer sitting at home bedside my sick boy but sitting bedside in a hospital room.  It's been a pretty "unlucky and unfortunate" experience here so far, and I am sure my heart will need to untangle this through words, in time.

I have felt ever so helpless.
But please don't confuse this with hopeless.
There is hope to be found even in the darkest, most unfortunate places.

Sometimes our helplessness leads us right to the very Source of all of our hopefulness.

For that hope lies in God and in the love He has for us.
A love that is boundless and which nothing can separate.
Not an illness, a hospital, or any other form of "unlucky" can separate us from this mad and fathomless love.
Despite a weary, aching heart, this is my rainbow of hope today.


  1. Love your perspective (and writing, as always). Praying that this time is short-lived and thankful for hope.

  2. Powerful and moving post. It is so hard to see your kids suffer; our thoughts and prayers are with you.

    I like your quote above: "Sometimes our helplessness leads us right to the very Source of all of our hopefulness." You ought to put that quote on your FB page with a link to your article. I'll share it. Very good statement, and so true.

    Here is one of our stories of how God was with us and our daughter. This is one of about 3 posts on Kristin: We trust and pray for the same recovery for your son.

    I may have missed some earlier posts. What is CVS?