Monday, April 8, 2013

On Celebrating Lydia's 'Brainaversary'

Why's she so crazy about those grandchildren?  Why are they always headed off to see their family?  And why do these kids keep popping up on this so-called ministry blog?

If you were around 3 years ago, you recall, don't you.  It's when our world caved in and collapsed around us.  Life turned upside down and inside out.  Dread and horror and fear came to call, rolled up all in one great big nightmare, cascading down on our family like an avalanche that couldn't be stilled.

It's when our joyful 6 year old Lydia was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  And had surgery to remove it.

Very long story short, all went well.  Textbook maybe.  But tucked away in the seldom shared recesses of my heart, there's a hazy remembrance of the dreaded phone call, and the image of her grandma, hearing the words 'brain tumor' and 'surgery' and collapsing on the floor, absolutely immersed and consumed by a grief stricken sorrow never experienced before or since.  Panic clutching at her throat, grasping at her stomach.  Fear like a paralysis taking over her very being.

There were the 5 hour trips back and forth, back and forth.  The dreaded anticipation of surgery day.  The endless hours in the jam-packed waiting room, watching the clock tick-tock oh so slowly.  Trying to be brave, trying to trust, trying to be available and supportive to my daughter and her husband and my husband.  And not doing a terrific job at it.

It comes back to me now, sitting quietly with that incredibly courageous little girl in the ICU, her normally active little body stilled by medication, hooked up to machines right and left, her animated speech so quiet, her vibrant emotions shut down.  A few days later, more tears flowed as I watched her parents wheeling her from room to room on the pediatric floor ... because she wanted to give away many of the stuffed animals and balloons that kept on cascading into her hospital room. 

It was maybe less than a week after surgery that we got that terrifying call in the dead of night as she was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, her body convulsing in a seizure.  And that next hour, each second dragging on endlessly, as my husband and I laid in bed, barely breathing, praying, not knowing if she was dead or alive, arms around each other and our hands wrapped around the phone, willing it to ring with good news.  Calling loved ones at dawn to pray, pray, pray as we sped back down from New York to a Maryland hospital like crazy people.

And God graciously brought miraculous healing.  Amen.

Fast forward three years.  Those days are gone and usually out of mind.  We've moved on, we live in the now, our family is growing, all are relatively healthy and well.  But last week, loved ones from here to there quietly took note of Lydia's 'brainaversary,' as she calls it.  And we thanked God, for the millionth time, for His beautiful creation, the one with the thick, wavy blond mane, she with the endless sparkling energy, boundless creativity, sky's-the-limit-abilities, and always kind, joy-filled spirit. 

The blinding headaches are fewer and more easily treatable these days.  There will be one more MRI in a year, and if everything looks good, that will be her last. 

Looking back, maybe the biggest lesson through it all was the reality of being very afraid.  Yet somehow filled with unspeakable joy.  And knowing for sure that we were in good company with the women at the tomb who experienced the same.  Emotions ricocheting all over the place.  But the Spirit's residence in our souls was still strong and stable and solid.  Nothing could touch the power of His grace-filled fruit, the sweet love, joy, peace of His presence..

And I recall the comforting power and strength of family and friends and strangers circling the globe, bonded together, pounding on heaven's door in urgent prayer.  Uniting us all together.  A sweet security, a safe harbour in the time of storm.

He answered.  And this is our journey ...

 
 
 
 
 
 

*   *   * sharing my family with Beth's family

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