The Ordinary and Extraordinary.

There are days that I feel pretty good about my life. There are many days that are very difficult. And on average, the basic level of ongoing stress is probably what most people would view as a very stressful time. But overall, I'm usually okay with it.


And then there are days like yesterday. I woke up tired and frustrated after a sleepless night. Every time I rolled over, a pain shot through my chest from where Brooklyn had head-butted me pretty hard in the ribs the day before. I knew I needed to get up and take Savannah to school, but I didn't want to get up at all. And it was dark and rainy outside too.


I took Savannah to school, went to the gym, and came back home. Darren went to pick Savannah up from school and forgot the car seat, so I had to run it to them. I felt frazzled. Overwhelmed, frustrated, and just plain emotional. I guess that is part of the package that comes with being a woman.

Brooklyn slept most of the morning because she was feeling a tad bit under the weather. As usual.


Throughout the afternoon I felt nauseous and had a headache. Late in the afternoon, I had to take Savannah to the doctor because she had been having some bladder issues. This has been an ongoing thing for forever... part of the reason it took me over a year to potty train the poor child. She had some white cells in her urine, and the pediatrician felt like it was time for her to see a urologist, and we don't have any in our town, so that'll mean a trip to the Children's Hospital two hours away... for my "healthy" child.


I felt like I had just about had all I could handle, and as I drove home I wondered how this happened. I wanted a house full of children. Healthy children. How did I get to this point where Children's hospitals, feeding tubes, leg braces, PICC lines, therapy, Medicaid, and a medicine spreadsheet were part of everyday life?


After I got home, I dropped off Savannah and went to the doctor for myself. As I sat in the waiting room, I continued to wonder how this all happened. Was I being punished because I haven't always been the wife and mother I should've been and now my children were suffering? I felt sweaty and shaky.


The appointment revealed a probable fracture of the chondrocostal joint (where the ribs meet the breastbone) for me. Super duper.


That evening I was sick as a dog. And I ended up crying until my eyes were swollen and going to bed. I felt like a fraud... people thought I was strong and a good example, but I had it all wrong.


I've always been one of those take-charge, get-it-done, and do-it-right kind of people. I don't like to feel defeated. And yesterday was one of those defeated kind of days.
But is that how it is supposed to be?

"...I have come that you might have life, and to have it more abundantly..."

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors..."

Some days I feel like I'm just surviving. Just keeping my head above water. I don't feel abundant or like I'm conquering anything. But I don't think its supposed to be that way.

I thought so many times yesterday, "I can't do this." But last night it struck me. Maybe that's the point. If I'm all self-sufficient and get through the bumpy times just fine, what glory does that bring to God? None. But when I'm messing up and weak and forced to lean hard on Him to carry me through... that moment is where He is praised. Because when I look back at these times, it is not me being a strong person that got me through. It was Him. His grace is sufficient.


I feel like my strengths have been stripped away. I'm a planner. I've always enjoyed organizing and planning ahead. I have deadlines and a highlighted calendar. I like to know exactly what to expect. And I've been given a little medical mystery. A child with a spectrum disorder... which means... we know very little. She might wear braces on her legs and fall down 42 times every day forever. She might be a marathon runner. She might never get a driver's license because her seizures may never be well-controlled. Her seizures might stop and one day she might not have an entire basket of medicines to take. She might never say more than the few words she says now. She might write a book. All we know is this: She is not what the world defines as normal. The electrical pathways in her brain are not like everyone else's. And you can't really plan for the exception to the rule.


"For I know the plans I have for you..."


I've always loved that verse. I like knowing that the One who is in charge of the universe is a planner too. Until His plans don't coincide with mine, and then I get cranky. But you know what the verse doesn't say? I know the plans you have for yourself in your little daytimer.


There are hard days, like yesterday. And there are days where I wake up with perspective. And I realize that throughout all of this, I have been given an extreme gift. My lows will be lower than most people's lows. But my highs will be higher than their highs. And if I had seen all of this in my planner, this is not a life I would have chosen. This is not a club I would have joined. But I have been granted a perspective afforded to few. If I had my perfect life with my perfect four healthy children, I'd be so different. I might be skinnier and more put-together and not nearly as frazzled, but there would be a richness missing. There is a certain depth to life when someone says, "I don't know how you do it." and you think... me neither. But that is because I don't. I'm just an ordinary person... in extraordinary circumstances, serving the God who loves to use people who have no idea what they are doing. Throughout history, He has delighted in using prostitutes, the blind, the dumb, the deaf, the lame, the uneducated fishermen, the murderers, the widows, the orphans, and the single moms. In fact, there weren't very many times at all where He chose someone who had it all together.
Because He wanted ALL of the glory.


I often make this whole experience much harder on myself because I want to plan it and know what is going to happen. I want to look back and think that I did a good job. And it doesn't work that way. I've got to get over myself. I don't have a guarantee that life will be easy. In fact, I've been guaranteed that it will be hard. But I've also been told that I'm not alone and that His grace is sufficient.


I'm thankful, broken rib and all, that He has chosen me.
And that even though I have no idea what the future holds, I know Who does.