What hurts the most

Today is one of those days that you don't mind that much until the day before it comes. But you get by. Maybe find some rest at night. Then you wake up the day of, and you wish with all your might that it could some way, some how, just be tomorrow.

But it's not.

It's today.

I hope the fear and hurt I'm carrying to the Lord isn't going to be too heavy even for Him. I know He's strong but wow.... I almost feel guilty to bring this to him.

This is not easy. This has never, ever been easy. I know life is never easy, of course it's not. But this hard? Surely this wasn't the point either. Unfortunately, it might seem as if it gets a little easier over time, but that's not really it either.

In the beginning, I remember coming home from doctors' appointments, shutting my door, and crying for hours and hours. I'd sob into my pillow so no one would hear. Sometimes I'd end up sitting on the ground clenching the sheets and just shaking in fear. I'd question God. I'd blame God. I'd cross the line and end up on the wrong side of the battlefield.

But that was then. It's been over 15 years of this, and although I can't say the pain is any less, maturity definitely helps when the enemy comes to battle. I am wise enough to know that Lord did not "do" this to me. I'm not exactly sure on the specifics, but I do know that God loves me and a loving Father would not do this to His child. My mind has grown enough to apply the Bible to my own life and understand the promises of the Lord.

When it all comes down to it though, I'm still human. There have still been incidents when my fear or loneliness or questions would overcome me. I recall a dark December night in 2006 when the emotional pain of some surprising news was so intense that a paralyzing fear took me over. I had no choice but to pull over on the side of the Ohio turnpike because I couldn't stop the deep, breathless sobs, and I felt like I was going to lose consciousness as I gasped for air. Once I finally regained some kind of breathing function, all I remember is screaming "I can't do this" over and over and over. It's the only words I could think of. It's the only words my lips could form. As I sat and cried for what felt like hours, I have never felt so alone in my life. I tried to find my voice to talk to my Creator, but it was no where to be found. I've never been the same since that day. The fact that all I could say was "I can't do this" was absolutely disgusting to my heart. What happened to "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength?" Could a pain really be that great that I'd lose sight of the only one who could handle it?

I'm working on drawing strength from above, but I'm still human. I'm going into the hospital today for some procedures I've had before, but if my memory is correct, the post-op pain is enough to make me wish I was in a coma or something. And my pain tolerance is ridiculously high, so that says a lot.

So please pray. Hard. My fabulous doctors are amazing at what they do, but unfortunately we all know that the maintenance procedures are best right now so we can postpone a transplant as long as possible. I should be thankful, right? I think there comes a point where I honestly wish I could just get my new liver and be done with all of this waiting, testing, drama, whatever. BUT I should be thankful. I should just be quiet and be thankful. I have this moment, and what more could I ask for?

I don't mind going to the hospital for these kind of things. I used to, but now, no needle or procedure could ever really phase me. It's just the pain afterward, the lonely nights at home... Oh and definitely the mental images of being on the pediatric floor... When I see the screaming children, the image instantly takes me into a flashback from my childhood. That's what I can't handle. I love the anesthesia part though - it's very comforting to me since as a child, I'd be so scared until they'd start the gas. Slowly, a tranquility would seep over my body. So now, even though they use a much different method, it's just the idea that soothes my soul. It's enough to make me forget how awful it is to wake up and all I can do is scream for fentanyl, versed, and phenergan. Nope, the second they start the anesthetics, my heart finally finds the true, deep peace I spend each day searching for. That in itself bothers me when I think about it. Then I wonder why in the world I have to go through things like this. I wonder why anyone has to. That's the hardest part. I think. Not sure. Ask me later.

Love to you all. Count your blessings. I challenge you to find the really, really tiny unexpected gifts today and praise God for those.