walking girls.

I began writing this post on Friday; just not to publish today.
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Yesterday was the plateau of Mabel's sickness. 

She woke crying and was unable to drink her bottle.  Swallowing was difficult and choking was eminent.  Being sick causes Mabel to have an increase in body jerks and seizures.  She had been up several times through the night crying so I was already exhausted and I am sick too, to top it off.  Her hospice nurse came and we requested that she be put on a new antibiotic (which she was.)  But the day was pitiful and terrifying.  She cried and cried with no break.  No chance of her stopping.  Nothing to comfort.  Nothing to ease this wretched reality. 

 

Her body stiffened.  Her joints must ache.  Her head shook and her fingers twitched.  All the while, I hold her and breathe her in, whispering to her and praying to my Savior.  Nothing changes but the peace softens the pain in my spirit.  He covers me. 

 

Finally, after many long hours I decided to try a walk; our only reprieve. 
It was cold.  The wind was blowing.  My body, achy and limited, gave way to the familiar ease that this task brings my child.  The only thing that brings us quiet, it seems. 

Within minutes, music playing, she quieted.  The tension in her body gave way to stillness, which is rare.  I watch her intently as I walk and in that moment, I felt myself relax as well.  To see her body still is a gift in itself.  It's a unique speck of time when everything seems to align. 

I walked up the windy hill of the cemetery, the place where we walk, and I let loose sobs of sadness, and frustration.  Worship music filled the emptiness around me.  It always happens, usually in a distinct moment of clarity; where there is supposed to be nothingness and reminders of death, the turns in the road fill with so much life.  I almost always feel the presence of God there.  I look out across land that was designed for remembering and yet I find myself eerily connected to, not the remembrance but the acceptance that this is my future. 
Her future. 

It's just she and I. 
In the quiet of that moment and in most others.  Sometimes her sister and brother are here but always her little spirit is drawn into mine and I feel her. 

Yesterday there was such an exhaustive yearning in my spirit for God. 
And then, at dusk, this.

 Such a simple reminder that our God is near. He knows what will get our attention, big or small and He knows what we are needing; each of us. It seems what I am needing from Him lately is the simple reassurance that He is near, in the quiet.  For years I celebrated the worship and the boom of prayer throughout a sanctuary.  I enjoyed it and felt the presence of God in those moments.

 

But now, in the day to day chaos of my life that is already so emotionally loud, I just need to feel Him in the moments between.  On a walk in the cemetery.  A sunset deer, pretty as a picture. 

I just need Him to be here with me in moments of complete and total nothingness.  Because even in a crowd of people, the one true comfort that I need always has been and still very much is, this God.  My Lord. 

 

This week was once again a booming reminder of the harsh reality to come.  Mabel is very sick and sometimes I am very tired.  But weary and broken, we move forward together and just do the best we can with this life that we are living, no matter how short or long that may be. 

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement as always.