Anchor of Hope

Waiting.

Waiting is so hard. Overall, I tend to be a pretty patient person. However, there are times when that myth of myself is shattered. The adoption of each of my daughters entailed so much wait. It.was.agonizing. And now, I seem to be in a period of waiting again. There is so much waiting. Waiting for lab results. Waiting for team thoughts on those results. Waiting for congestion to clear enough so biopsy can happen.

Then, there will be waiting for biopsy results. Waiting for treatment plan. Waiting for immunosuppresion to lessen so we can "re-enter living". Waiting for the dark times and struggle to end. Waiting for the exhaustion to fade. Waiting for..... Waiting for night. Waiting for morning. Always, always waiting. And I realize, I am falling into the trap. Falling deep into the trap of believing that somehow meaningful life exists on the other side of the waiting. It's the trap that prevents me from living fully in the moment. It prevents me from living fully in the waiting. Because waiting is HARD. And waiting in hard times is even harder. It requires discipline. It requires letting go of the worry and desire to control the outcomes. It requires trust in God that the plan for my life is unfolding as it is meant to be. It requires faith that regardless of the biopsy results He will give mercies. It requires the realization that I am missing out on the mercies of the moment if I am constantly consumed by what is to come.

Hope's liver labs are the lowest they have been in the past 5 weeks. The plan for her has changed several times over the past week. Her team will see what tomorrow's labs show, and plan again accordingly. Parenting Hope is teaching me to be patient while simultaneously remove my focus from the next thing to come. She is teaching me to live in the constant waiting. She is teaching me to focus and just live. She teaching me there are too many uncertainties to place plans, hopes, or dreams on tomorrow. Those uncertainties can unravel me. So instead, she is teaching me that in the here and now is an anchor. The anchor of God will hold me steady if I let Him. He will hold me in the right now of today. I can choose. I can choose to become caught up in the possibilities of tomorrow, or I can choose to see the now in this very moment.

I have so much to learn. So, so, much. Life is whirling by so quickly. If I don't stop and breathe in the moment, I will miss it. I will miss the smallness of the hands which clutch onto mine. I will miss the gentle curves of their faces. I will miss the questions. I will miss the laughter. I will miss the tears. I will miss that they want my attention now. I will miss seeing how light comes from darkness. I will miss the mercies. I will miss being a part of the now that my girls are part of. I will miss it all. And I will miss the anchor which is oh so patient with me as I learn and holds me steady through it all.