Still Here

In 2015 I wrote in my journal, “This definitely feels like a marathon. And sometimes I’m unsure how we can keep going.”

Honestly, if I knew that we would still be here 3 years later, I’m not sure that we would have kept going. The days are long, the news is more often disappointing than hopeful, and the horizon is very much out of reach. It’s all very depressing, isn’t it!?

Then how have we made it this far? How have we gotten up every day in the face of exhaustion and set backs? When I really think about it, it’s pretty simple: people.

Jesus, yes. Of course. Always.

But the hands and feet are what has kept us in the race.

The circumstances regarding Jane have changed very little. She has seizures everyday. And at the current rate, she has them all day. This is not an alarm or surprise to her doctors. They expect this outcome. They expect our marathon. I did not expect this marathon.

Her stomach and reflexes are weak. We are on vomit patrol everyday, sometimes every few hours. Sometimes in the dark hours of the night. What a joke it is to not be able to handle caffeine right now!

At this rate we should have given up. Removed ourselves from hope, become bitter and distant. (I’ve found myself living in the borderland from time to time).

But, the people.

There are people who have not left. In this dirty, sometimes very sad story, people have actually chosen us.

When you’re in elementary school, your friends are chosen for you. As you enter college and adulthood you start choosing your friends. And then life happens, and you become unavailable, and your kid can’t handle parties, and you have to miss out on invites, and birthdays, or events, or family gatherings  and all of a sudden your friends have to choose you. And the fact that people have chosen us back, is how we’ve kept going.

The ones who invite you to the birthday party anyway, even though they know you may be quietly sitting in their master bedroom with your sensitive child most of the time. The ones who bring dinner and snacks in big brown bags because they also know what it’s like to stay at a hospital for a long amount of time. The ones who quietly contribute to date night, because they know that, odds are, you desperately need a break. The ones who have taught their kids about epilepsy and blindess so that playing with your kid isn’t all that weird, or crazy, and actually kind of fun. The ones who come over and listen and wait and reach out, even though your story is very sad.

These are the people. This is how, 3 years later, we are still here.

In so many ways, we can feel isolated and forgotten.

In Genesis Joseph tells his fellow prison mate, “When you leave this hell of a place, and finally go up to Pharaoh, don’t forget me!” (In so many words, of course). Very shortly after, it says that, well, he forgot.

People often do. And when people have their own freedoms and accomplishment to enjoy, you can’t really blame them. But it is a beautiful thing when people remember. Later, Joseph’s prison buddy does remember him, still there, sitting in his prison. And it brings Joseph some long awaited, much deserved favor.

People don’t only just forget, sometimes they remember. And that is why we’re here. Because people have remembered. And that is why, in another 3 years, we will still be running. Because people are pushing us. Or carrying us.

 

Acts 2:44-46 And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. 45 They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need. 46 They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity– 47 all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people.