Some courses in life you get to choose. And others you don’t. For us, the most beautiful journey started with the most horrendous beginning. Our daughter had a severe traumatic brain injury 5 years ago. She was 5 years old at the time. She was pulled off life support after 44 days in a coma. And lived.
So now what?
Well, I’m raising my daughter. A daughter who isn’t promised tomorrow – actually, isn’t promised another moment.
What does that look like?
Bags of rescue medications that get toted around. Every. Single. Moment.
The choice about natural medications? Long gone. We’re well into experimental at this point.
It looks like a Make A Wish trip right before she acquires yet another stroke. Knowing the names of everyone at three children’s hospitals around the country. Spending more time at a hospital than a grocery store.
How does it feel? How do you march forth?
Initially, (and periodically when things are tough) you have to allow yourself to grieve the loss of the “normalcy” of your child’s life, and your own. And for me, this is followed by gripping unto God with white-knuckle intensity. A kind of intensity where nothing can separate us from His love. An understanding that He loves my daughter more than us.
And then this revelation comes: what REALLY matters at the end of the day? Is it the clean house? The laundry folded and put away? The education our kids receive? How productive they are in society? Nope.
It’s love.
Kindness.
Embracing today while hoping for tomorrow.
Letting go of the “little” things and holding tight to those that matter.
It’s having grace on yourself and your ability as a mother.
Learning to see the moments that are beautiful.
The dancing like crazy in the grocery store just because the song has a good beat.
Leaving the laundry in a pile to listen to your kids read you a good book.
Having leftovers, again, because you took the kids biking and lost track of the time.
At the end of the day, God matters. My husband matters. My children matter. People matter.
Things don’t.
