I Will Dig Here

Full transparency, I teared up writing that title. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to discover this passage of sweet little words that hold tremendous weight for our season, our journey, our life.

We try to “give thanks in all seasons”, and “be content in every situation”, but every once in a while (I’d say about a quarterly basis in our household) the reality of our situation just sort of hits deep. And it’s not that fun and I’m not thankful!

A few months ago I was due for a good cry and lamenting session over Jane’s illness. It’s so hard to remember that she’s not a patient, she’s our daughter and she is very sick. I was venting to Rich about how I am just unsure how to heal from trauma when we are faced with new trauma every day, and he gently reminded me of a simple truth, “Our life is very, very hard.”

And my reply, “I hate that”. Ha!

I want it to all be better. I want to escape it. When COVID hit in March 2020, much like many of you, I grieved. Not so much because I was afraid of contracting the virus, although that wasn’t on my to-do list, per say. I was grieving because I wanted OUT. I wanted to be free! I wanted to live without care, to be ignorant of sickness. And I wanted my kids to be free too; to never encounter obstacles or sickness or lack of experience. But that is a glaringly obvious false expectation of life.

On a completely related note: did you ever see the movie Trolls? The second one with the angry heavy metal band. If you don’t have a 4-10 year old I’m guessing, no, you have not. The best part of the movie for me is when the Justin Timberlake Troll, named Branch, hears a band of Trolls sing a sad song for the first time and says, “It’s so sad, but I kind of like it, because life can be sad.” This is my husband, the moody Troll. And then the Anna Kendrick Troll, named Poppy, says, “Oh, they must not realize that music is supposed to make you happy! That’s awful”. That’s me, I’m the Anna Kendrick Troll.

It has to be settled that our life is not easy, and yet, hope can still be found in this place.

How enriched are they who find their strength in the Lord; within their hearts are the highways of holiness! Even when their paths wind through the dark valley of tears, they dig deep to find a pleasant pool where others find only pain (Psalm 84:5-6, TPT)

Even when. And in this place. I will dig. And I will find refreshing, where others may only find pain.

Why would I ever want to lean in to pain? I want to get the heck out! My first two childbirth experiences were a perfect example of the fight against pain. The total rebellion in my mind against what was happening in my body. The struggle, reflected in a very panicked and anxious birthing experience. But by the time we had our third child, I finally started to get it; pain is a vehicle to something new, and something good. I embraced it during my 2.5 labor at home and understood that the pain was my accomplice, not my enemy. By the time Millie was born I thought, “I could easily do that again. But I’m not going to because my husband is going to get fixed.” What’s crazy is, it was the same pain as my two other births, but this time, I learned how to work with it.

The beautiful opportunity that is provided to us, through the strength of the Lord, is even in the valley of weeping, you can find a good thing. It can be beautiful and painful, all at the same time. (There, babe. I said it.)

We can’t wait for a cure or a miracle or a different life to be handed to us. We have to dig here. In this place, amidst the tears and sorrow and injustice of our little girl losing control of her body. It will pass. It will all pass. And when it does, we will not have just walked through it, we will have gathered from it.

Refreshing and riches are waiting for us, but we can’t just pass through or miss it because we numbed out. We have to dig.

I’m challenged to not settle in the valley and get disillusioned by bitterness or what-ifs. I’m challenged to look at what can be a very dark place, nod my head and say, “I can dig here”.