Trust vs. Tears: The Epic Battle and present struggle

In my previous post I alluded to writing about Jessica, Oliver, and Pierce. Begging your electronic forgiveness and knowing you will likely understand fully - we had an emergency trip to the hospital just after I had finished writing the other night. It seems the lessons and comfort the Lord provides are endless and therefore the stream of speak (although strokes of a keyboard) continues, if for nothing else, my own benefit. So, I promise to write of the three aforementioned this week, but for now I move to the latest experience in this saga that continually thickens.

We were told after the first inpatient treatment that if Jada ever has a fever over 100.4 she will be admitted. "Sure," we say and tuck that into our - 'that won't ever happen to us' pocket. Which, by the way, is being rapidly depleted these days. Sunday afternoon Jada's body began to feel a little hot and I kept a close eye on things. We began checking her fever - which only climbed. To simplify and save space, her fever spiked over the 100.4 threshold, I called the Dr., we were ordered to admit immediately. Jessica, at this point, had just woke from a nap, comes to the living room and sees my eyes... the story has already been told though no words had been spoken. "What's wrong?" she says. "Well, we need to pack some bags, Jada has to be readmitted tonight because she has a fever." Immediately Jessica begins to cry and Oliver - ever the sensitive man that he is - follows her into the bathroom and says, "it okay momma, it okay."

Adjectives are certainly anemic these days when it comes to adequate descriptions of emotions. I begin to pack bags and get things in order with the help of Diane Imig - who has been a rock star for us lately and of whom we are very thankful. The van is packed and Jada is still not even really affected - she just seems listless. Jessica, however, along with me have shed tears and there apparently is no "off" switch. I kneel with her in the bedroom and we pray one time before I hit the road.

The rest of the evening was pretty much as I expected. Jada was admitted, vitals were checked, an antibiotic was administered, blood was taken, conversations ensued with the staff, and bed time finally happened much after 10:30pm for Jada. That was Sunday... the 23rd.

By morning I was alerted to her low WHB (White Blood Count) which is effectively her ability to stave off infection - that being said, it is supposed to alarm us when there is a fever because of the potential effects. So, we wait.

Our son Oliver, who has not really adjusted all that well to a completely different environment, needs attention and daddy time. My wife, who is exhausted, needs sleep and just rest in general. Pierce... he's just too young to know what he wants yet, which at this point is a good thing. Monday afternoon I call my brother Alan up to sit with Jada so I can go to a quiet spot and have some time to read and pray before I head to Tremont for just a couple hours to spend time with the other members of my family.

Let me back up one step so that everyone knows just how Great the community of Faith has been around us. I am part of a group of super cool dudes known as the Peoria Area Leadership Community (aka PALC). If I divulge too many names besides the ring leader, Bill Allison, one might question the company I keep - but that is for another discussion altogether. We are a band of brothers who bear each others burdens and overall just try to discover what 1st century disciplemaking looks like in a 21st century world. PALC in general has had within itself, many ups and downs, but lately the trend is southward. So, we decided as a group to have concentrated prayer for the entire day Monday. This was the agenda I had when I called my brother Alan to cover for me - and normally I am not for agendas, but exceptions can be made.

So Alan shows up and I try to leave the room. Jada has already begun to sense that this was not a scheduled hospital visit and that we were not going home right away, so she was particularly clingy. I buttoned my coat, hit the door and there was a piercing scream with violent tears from Jada, "No, daddy, you cannot leave me here. Please." I tried coaxing her once with logic: "Jada, who has been with you every night? Who has been at every scan, blood test, and MRI? Who was there when you woke up from surgery? Who has carried you throughout the house when your legs were too weak?" She looks up at me with wet eyes and says, "you." "Sweetie, I will be back at bedtime, but I must go see Ollie, Pierce and Mom - and spend some time talking to Jesus." Clearly any sort of logic, whether linear or cyclical, has been void to this point in our journey so I have no idea what caused me to think it would work now. Jada again continues with the labored breathing and heavy tears when I approach the door. She calls out for me to pray with her if I want to leave.

Now, presenting itself, is an opportunity for trust - trust that God is who He says He is. Immediately I was challenged because I thought, "what good is that going to do right now?" If tears were a weapon, metaphorically speaking, Jada had just unwittingly opened up everything in her arsenal. As any parent will tell you a thousand times over, they would rather suffer themselves than to watch one of their children suffer, especially to the point of tears. Hold that thought in comparison to God's rescue plan of Christ and what the suffering he faced must have been like on his heart as a Father. Staggering.

Psalm 81:7 says, "In distress you called, and I delivered you..."

I was struck with conviction in that moment standing at the door wanting to leave but being called back by Jada. Do I really pray as though I have a hearing with the Father? I began to run through the catalogue in my mind of the times I prayed only what I could control. How rare it is for me pray outside of the context of my ability to provide. I looked at Jada, knelt, and prayed that God would calm her, strengthen her, and give her peace. All things COMPLETELY outside of my control, especially considering how hard Jada was crying. Nonetheless, I prayed. And you know what... God answers prayer. Jada immediately stopped crying, I left, had some sweet time of fellowship with Jesus, and was able to spend time with the rest of the family.