Tonight, I Am Thankful

A year ago tomorrow was the day that changed our lives forever.  I think I can remember talking with Andy around this time of the evening and saying, “If he isn’t better in the morning, I think I better take him in.”  I’m so thankful I did.  At one point during our stay, Andy asked Dr. Lam (Jeremiah’s surgeon) how “close we were.”  All Dr. Lam said was “Close.”  It’s still haunting to think about that.  Many nights I have to consciously tell myself to stop reliving those early days in the hospital- just after his surgery when everything was settling in, when we still didn’t know if he had cancer or if he would even make it through the worst part of his pain.  I wonder if that will ever fade; probably, with time and lots of prayer.

I was just reading through some of the messages we received after we posted on social media what was going on with Jeremiah.  It is incredible the support we received and the prayers that were offered up for our little boy; surely more than we could ever count.  It’s so strange to look back and see some of the verses and words of truth people sent and to think about myself reading them a year ago.  I know I cried a lot.  I was thankful for the encouragement and still am.  Jeremiah will hear the story many times, and it will be amazing to show him how God worked through His people to pray for his recovery and healing (I’ll probably have to explain to him what facebook was haha). 

So, on this night, the eve of an awful day one year ago, I am thankful.  Tonight I got to watch the wonder in my son’s eyes as we did our advent devotion.  I got to see the joy in his smile as he “blew” out the match when we lit the candle.  He sings with us as we sing and prays with us as we pray.  I watched him a little more closely tonight, just remembering how much has changed in a year.  Tonight, I am thankful.

Why Can't We See God?

Today, my Lydia asked, “Mama, why can’t we see God?  She’s three and half. 

I remember back to what was the worst night, maybe even worse than finding out our son had a brain tumor, the night that he was in writhing pain after his surgery.  You can look at our blog, http://jeremiahsbiggestfight.blogspot.com/2012/12/from-day-of-fear-turned-joy-to-night-of.html if you want to read the whole story, but the summary is that he was in incredible amounts of pain and was being ignored by the doctors.  I was enraged; more angry than I have ever been in my entire life.  If my heart was broken and torn out before, it had been smashed onto the floor into a million pieces.  My body was shaking uncontrollably, I had no control over my speech, my thoughts, or anything really. 

“Mama, why can’t we see God?”

I was wondering that very thing.  After being told to stay in our sleep room, as I was no longer safe to be upstairs with Andy and Jeremiah, I remember taking a shower and pleading with God, crying out from the primal places of my being.  Our friends Mike and Becky showed up not long after I had gotten out of the shower and into my pajamas. 

(taken from a blog written by Andy)

 If there was one area of God's clear presence in our life during this time, it was in the presence of our amazing friends Mike and Becky Nowak.  After Jamie became enraged in the waiting room, I did not feel that it would be safe for her to be back in Jeremiah's room.  While my wife is one of the most loving caring and people in the world, she is also a mom (and a hockey player) and there was the possibility that our nurse or the fellow would have been the recipient of an enraged mother.  I called Mike and Becky around 11:30 PM and asked if one of them could come, and 40 minutes later they were both here to spend the night with Jamie.

We are so blessed to have amazing friends who will give up so much to care for us.  Mike and Becky - I honestly don't think we would have gotten through that night without being in jail or restricted from this hospital room if it wasn't for you.  You were clearly the peace of Christ in our lives that night in caring for us.

“Mama, why can’t we see God?”

“Babe,” I said, “that is a good question.  You know what?  We can see God.  We see him in other people.  When we love people or they love us, we are seeing God and feeling His love.  When we are kind to people or they are kind to us, we are seeing God.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah Mom.”

I remember the conversation I had with Becky that night.  I told her I thought Jeremiah was going to die.  I will never forget her face.  She didn’t say anything, but just hugged me.  All the while, she was praying.  Mike ended up leave that night, but Becky stayed with me.  I asked her if she thought God would be okay with me sleeping.  She said, “Jamie that is what I have been praying for.”  Becky then continued to pray over me, starting at my head and working her way down to my feet.  She told me that once she felt that specific part of my body relax, she would go to the next, until I was finally asleep.  I slept a solid 6 hours that night- probably the most sleep I got consecutively the whole time we were in the hospital. 

So my sweet Lydia, this was a very, very dark time in our lives.  But looking back, I can see God was there.  Even in our darkest of dark He was there.  It still hurts to think about that time.  My emotions still run high, my heart beats faster, and I get a pit in my stomach when I re-read the story of that night.  But now I have seen the hope of a new day.  God was faithful.  He showed up in our friends, in our surgeon, in an incredible nurse, and in our souls as we clung to Him. 

Climbing out of the Rubble

(December 2, 2013)

Today is the beginning of the week that ends in the 1 year anniversary of finding out that Jeremiah had a brain tumor.  Today, I have been so, so sad.  I honestly didn’t expect to feel this way, though I didn’t really know what to expect. 

In the days, weeks, and months after Jeremiah came home from the hospital, I don’t remember externally processing much (or internally for that matter).  It seems that I had to just keep going, just keep surviving.  There were many follow-up appointments, therapies to be scheduled, exercises to do, not to mention taking care of a 2.5 year old whose world has just been turned upside down for the last month.  Like I said, I had to keep surviving.  Well, It has now been a year and things have thankfully slowed down.  We still have doctor appointments, and therapy, and just recently have been slotted to be evaluated for orthotics for our little buddy.  But, I’m not in survival mode anymore and I think that may be why I am finally feeling. 

I had my fair share of sadness and anger and every other emotion under the sun during our stay in the hospital but those very raw, in the moment, not thought out emotions; it wasn’t because I was doing real processing, but because my heart had just been ripped out of my chest and handed to me.   Now, a year later, I can sit in my home, with my sweet babes sleeping (finally J) and think about what really happened.  Our Great God did a mighty miracle and so this season of advent I am hoping to have my own hope.  You see, last year, I couldn’t hope on my own.  I am so, incredibly thankful for the dear friends and family who encouraged us and had hope for us when we could not.  Those people, who God surrounded us with, stand with us today, loving us and praying for us, and helping us to continue to process through everything we have gone through in the last year.  Just prior to writing this entry in fact, I sent an email to the women so close to me to ask for prayer, that God would heal my heart during this advent season.  Advent ends when Jesus is born, when the people got to see the face of God in a baby boy.  Last year, our advent ended with seeing the face of God in a baby boy as well.  We took our sweet Jeremiah home on Christmas Eve, the very last day of advent. 

Throughout this week and probably through Christmas, I plan to try and process through what I am thinking and feeling.  In beginning to process all of this, I’m reminded of the Sara Groves song that starts out, “It’s been a hard year, and I’m climbing out of the rubble.”  Slowly, slowly I’m climbing out of the rubble and mess of this past year and moving towards what God would have for our family as we live into the healing and miracle of who Jeremiah is to our family and how we tell our story in a way that can bring hope and healing to those around us.