“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” -Hebrews 10:23
This week was a whirlwind. Bennett had had a cough since last Thursday but was fine outside of that. When we got home Sunday night, we noticed a tiny bit of wheezing, so we called the on-call nurse and were advised to take him into the ER (that experience will be another post entirely). Initially he improved after clearing his sinuses and getting some steroids, but at the end of a night of staying for observation, he started going downhill fast.
Even with a low-flow cannula on max output, his oxygen levels hovered around 86-87% and had become extremely lethargic. We were terrified as we watched IVs and monitors and a high-flow cannula put in place. As we searched and searched for some reassurance from the doctors, I finally asked through tears, “is he going to be ok? Are we gonna take our baby home?” They did provide reassurance in that moment that the situation was serious but not life-threatening. While that did provide some comfort, we still seemed to hold our breath until we saw our little boy slow get back to his normal self.
As we sat in the hospital, especially when Bennett was going downhill quickly, I cried out in desperation to God over and over and over again. I prayed bold prayers of healing and miracles out of urgency and complete loss of control (or sense of control I thought I had). I’m ashamed to admit that from Sunday night to Wednesday morning, my mind was focused more on prayer than probably the past month combined.
It seems that, naturally, when life spirals outside of the stead normal flow, I’m instantly brought back to the realization that that steady normal flow is only by the grace of God. Yes, we’re blessed with people who can help us in times of crisis and can be used to heal, but nothing I did could really stop the spiral or 100% guarantee that Bennett would be physically fine. There is never a 100% guarantee available and even the most confident and able of doctors knows that. That’s why guarantees are never handed out in times of crisis. A crisis has a way of reminding everyone of how little control we actually have.
So if I can’t avoid crises entirely, how do I ensure that I’m not completely thrown off the ship the next time we hit a wave (because there will inevitably be another wave)? The only way to remain stead is to anchor myself or cling to someone I know is steady and immovable. That’s the only rational solution and the only reason I could breathe and find peace in the middle of a hospital room this week.
Furthermore, as I look back on this week, I find myself sobered by the realization that I haven’t clung to God in the stillness as I should. I’ve gotten complacent and sure of myself through a false sense of security and sometimes even the idea that God “owes” me this season of stillness after enduring a hurricane. And in that complacency, I let go of the anchor I have in Him and have started to wade in the waters by myself, sure that I can do it myself. That right there is why I found myself tossed around until I made my way back to the One who is ultimately in control and able.
My goal is to never let go to begin with. I never was to be so confident in myself that I let go. Through the stillness and the waves, I want to remain steady in my Savior. I refuse to drown, and I know He won’t let me.