Early last week, when a door started to open--a door that I rather have stayed closed up nice and tight with a heavy dresser in front of it--I went into total panic mode. When the door knob started to turn ever so slowly and I heard the creak from the door hinges, I ran to the door trying to close it. When merely shutting the door didn't keep it closed, I went to lock it instead. I jumped quickly for the door as if I was a little girl again playing tag with my sisters, deciding to run to the safety of a room by closing the door behind me and quickly turning around to lock it so that I could remain in its safe confines where my playmates would be unable to reach me and tag me. Like God, however, my sisters often knew where the hidden key was and in a few short minutes I could hear the key sliding into the key hole where I would take a deep breath and try to find my next option then...CLICK...I could hear the door unlock.
In this case, I was not running from my sisters but from circumstances, fear and bad memories. The door was the gateway to that which I wanted to avoid entirely. Skye came down with a virus last week and "once upon a time" I would have just thought nothing of it but an inconvenience and a day home to nurse my child back to health; but now when a fever and persistent cough is associated, I go into some other mode for which I can't seem to find a name for at this time. But just picture me armed with a thermometer and symptom checks every few minutes--some totally crazy mom mode thing. The likes my sister Sarah and her husband had the joy of observing one time where they were literally pulling the thermometer from my hand and reassuring me to relax a little. I kind of wish they had been here the last few days.
Anyways...after 2 chest infections and severe pneumonia, I grow ever so concerned for Skye; however, in this case Skye rebounded from the cold virus rather quickly this time and I felt rather victorious over the dreaded door staying closed. However, in about 2 days the door for which I thought I had locked tight did re-open. And as it re-opened, I placed a chair under its knob trying to barricade myself in my 'safe' place. When Paisley came down with a fever and diarrhea, I went on what I believe was spiritual warfare trying desperately to keep the door from opening. I responded with what I had learned from the past few months. I would try only to think of the positives: "We are home." "Her fever broke for now." "Skye is healthy." But as Paisley's fevers got worse and her cough and breathing grew more and more familiar, I went to God in prayer and used scripture. I claimed health for our family. And while all that is good, again I think I did it out of fear instead of trusting in God to help us. Also, sometimes God is just plane going to open a door whether you want him to or not. Instead of fighting it so, I needed to trust that He was going to be holding my hand as I walked straight through it. And when Paisley was placed on nebulizer treatments every four hours and the pediatrician prescribed the "big guns" (as she called it while taking our family history into account) for antibiotics, I became absolutely frightened and angry at God all at the same time. "How dare He do this again to me. I can't believe that we are here again," I thought.
My efforts were as if I noticed that my pathetic attempt of using my weak wooden chair was not going to hold, so instead I ran to the shed of bad memories where I grabbed a hammer, nails and some boards. I frantically hammered like crazy. Placing my nails everywhere, driving them into the door, door frame and wooden planks to keep that darn door from opening. From the attempt, however, I grew extremely exhausted and the door was still opening anyways... I would have saved a whole lot of energy if I had just grabbed onto God's hand and just walked through the door instead of trying to close it.
With that said and after a few tissues and tears later, God still provided me with the strength I needed even though I wasted my energy trying to keep the door closed. In fact, God gave me some Gatorade so to speak to help revive me after my energy was drained for a bit.
After some treatments, Paisley is doing better today. Praising God and thanking Him that He was there at the door waiting for me to take His hand even when I was not.
No comments:
Post a Comment