On Friday, Hudson had another MRI. This makes four scans for him- and he has rocked every single one of them.
As parents, we couldn’t be more proud, more relieved and more thankful to have a four-year old who seems to have the grace to knuckle down and do whatever the doctors are asking him to do with a minimal amount of tears and drama.
It makes the difficult bits for all of us just a little easier.
This time, Andrew took Hudson to the London Children’s hospital to have his scan at the bright and sunny hour of 7:30 am. (Which meant a wake-up and go of 5:30am…)
I got up with my two boys, and spent the time they were driving in prayer before my big kids needed to get to school.
I started by praying the same old things… “God, keep them safe… God give them peace…. God help Hudson to be brave…. God help him to stay still and to be patient…”
And two minutes later, I was in full blown tears-and-kleenex-laying-on-the-floor- kind of praying.
I realized that even though it’s Hudson’s body that is in pain and suffering, it is Andrew and I who are being broken and remoulded in this time too.
There are so many kinds of brokenness, and countless blogs, devotionals and self-help books on the topic. Many have been incredibly helpful to us as we face the future.
But for me, on that day, I saw the layers we were walking through and finally a way forward began to surface.
Hudson’s asthma is our immediate, life-threatening concern. He struggles nearly every week to keep his lungs filled with the air he needs to live. It means countless trips to the family doctor and ER, and consistent daily monitoring with lots of puffers and medications. It can be exhausting, draining and is just one foot-after-the-other healing.
Some of us have brokenness that is like asthma- the kind that threatens our very breath. It robs us of life. It becomes a top priority to find help to manage- because with out help, there will be no further life.
Hudson’s tumour isn’t as urgent- it’s stable, (annoying) and unwelcome. But it’s not an immediate-life-threatening issue right now. (It has potential to be, but it isn’t.)
Some of our brokenness is like that tumour– annoying, but manageable. It can be damaging if we “pretend” that it isn’t there, that our hearts aren’t wounded or that our lives don’t need some attention from time to time. But it’s not the kind of broken that needs to consume us. We can live, we can fight, we can keep reaching for our goals (like making it to Kindergarten class each day for Hudson.)
Hudson’s stamina and overall health isn’t even on most doctor’s radars- but it is on my mom radar. I’m the one that keeps pushing the health care providers, and they keep surfacing new mystery’s each time I press– such as, why have his iron-levels dropped dramatically again? And why does he keep getting ear infections? And why can’t he make it through a whole day at week at school without getting really sick?
This level of broken is the kind that only God knows we have- the sort of deep level soul-sickness that we can’t see and need a Father to help us unravel. The kind that only the Holy Spirit can reveal to us, and send us the help we need to solve the mystery. This is when that awesome daily connection we have with Him makes our lives infinity more hopeful- He keeps pressing us to wholeness, health and stamina….but we can’t even see what needs fixing even though He is monitoring us moment by moment.
When I sat up with my kleenex and reflected on the depth of my thoughts, an old song wriggled into my conscience. “Put in me, a clean heart, put in me O God…” (Enter the Worship Circle by Waterdeep.)
He moved me past broken thoughts, and made my mind flood with images of the past.
There was a time when my mom was in a desperate, urgent need of healing- and it seemed like that time would never end, that she would never be made whole. We prayed and prayed, but nothing was swift or immediate.
That was over 20 years ago– and when her face was in my mind, I only saw the joy and beauty of a life slowly transforming and still healing- she is not who she was. She is INFINITELY better, INFINITELY more beautiful and compassionate.
There was the time when I was in distress of what I should become when I grew up. I sought in anguish (and was so worried I would disappoint God) and wondered every day if I had made the right choices. And then my heart was filled with gratitude, because today I am living and loving the woman He is growing me up to become.
Looking behind and seeing the marks of God on my life and the lives I’ve journeyed with was like getting to a resting ledge on a rock-climbing trip. I sat, rested, looked down at the climb and breathed deeply.
And then I looked up and I saw only Faith, Hope and Love calling me forward.
Faith- because He was with me, He never left any of us, and He had woven all those things below me together for good.
Hope, because why WOULDN’T He keep that pattern? He must have a purpose, because He definitely invested in us.
Love- why would He do this for me? For my family? How great must His love be if He picked us out of the 7 billion people (and counting) on the planet?
Yesterday we heard from the family doctor that Hudson’s tumour scans are as we expected- stable, no growth or change and still there. (Phew.)
So, we have to buckle up and get comfortable in the waiting period again (which can be about as easy as trying to relax while you are going up the giant hill of a roller coaster ride you didn’t want to go on in the first place).
But I think this next season of waiting will be easier- because I will look behind, and sing the praises of what has happened as I wait for the what will be.