Here I am again, this time, feeling as though I am climbing out from under a rock. Christmas was great, followed hard by a Herx, then a cold, and onto another Herx again; with really no breaks in between. Matt has been working between two different diamond mines, so his shifts are more erratic than usual, and no matter how many times he tells me, I always seem to forget where he is going and for how long. For some reason, when he is home, I feel like I can give myself the permission to sleep and get the rest I need; because when he isn’t working, I am assured that Jack is getting quality time he needs with at least one of his parents, even if it is so heavily weighted on one end. When Matt is gone, I feel guilty if I don’t see Jack most of the day. These past few weeks I have been feeling a whole pile of emotions, and while I am usually confident in Jack’s childhood (or comforted that he is living God’s plan for him, too), I worry, at the very least, about not being around for him when Matt is not. So, I try to push myself. But lately, more often than not, pushing myself has not been an option.

The greater population of Edmonton is sick right now, it would seem, fighting some sort of cold/flu virus. Between so many of my friends and family being sick, and my inability to feel well enough to socialize, it has been a long month of almost no visitors. I would dwell more day-to-day on how lonely it is-- if I wasn’t sleeping my way through most of it! I know many people have been experiencing how boring/depressing/challenging/etc. being homebound for more than a week is, and a few have commented on how they, “just don’t know how [I] do it!” But really, as with most things, it simply gets easier with time.

My depression has really leveled out as of late, with fewer lows than ever; and I’m feeling really grateful for Jack, and all the joy he brings, especially while cooped up in the house.  Someone asked me just recently how I keep my spirits up. “God,” I said; “God, and prayer, and time. God has been working on me for a long time now.” My outlook has come a long way; it has been through a desert of formation; and it continues (and always will, I hope!) to be shaped by God. At first, of course, I was in denial: That I wasn’t sick, or that it would go away on its own; or, that this really wasn’t that bad; and years worth of treatment? Oh, no—not for me! This was just a small bump in the middle of my fast-paced life. Then denial turned into fear. Fear turned into anger. Anger turned into depression. And then—and then it was just…okay. Don’t get me wrong, this is one heck of a Herx that is kicking my mental butt right now, determined to kill the even-keel God and I have going on right now. And the feelings that come with talking about, seeing, and hearing of new babies everywhere lately has turned my mind into one giant, ticking clock; and with every stroke of the minute hand my heart breaks… my insides ache…just a little bit more.  I am glad I know what is going on. I know that my mind hurts my heart when the Lyme hurts my body. And when the cloud lifts and I can write, think, and feel more clearly, I will be back to that beautiful place that God has prepared for me. The one that is okay with this. The one that will stay here, if it means it is where God wants me to be. But maybe that is why these Herxes need to happen, in part. Maybe they aren’t just here to hurt and discourage (I mean, “remind me that the Lyme is dying, and my body is healing”); but to keep me from getting complacent. I am good where I am. And I will stay there—if I have to. But, Oh-- Lord willing, I would rather be making my son breakfast first thing in the morning instead of once again, losing the war with insomnia, and having him tuck me in at that early hour instead. I want to be vacuuming the living room instead of lying in my bedroom; and waiting for my husband to come home to a meal I cooked, instead of sleeping through his arrival-- leaving him and Jack eat alone, again.

Each day I am given the strength I need. “Trust,” or “be grateful,” or “you can rest awhile, I am carrying you.” And I cry tears that the God I love knows just what my heart needs to hear, and that He loves me, too.

I once wondered, angrily, why God would give me a child if I couldn’t take care of him myself. I was just newly bedridden, Jack was 10 months—not quite walking, and my heart couldn’t stand to hear him cry for me as I closed the door, unable to hold him or care for him—only to collapse into bed out of pain. I have realised time and again how ignorant I was in that question (hindsight is 20/20, after all). First of all, while I don’t believe God gave me Lyme disease, I do believe that He knew that I would get sick. He also knew my body wasn’t likely producing enough progesterone to conceive in the first place, let alone carry a baby to term. I not only carried, but gave birth to, and nursed a child whom could have contracted this disease from me during any one of those opportunities. But he didn’t. This child I wondered about; that I ached to care for; that I hope to be better for; that I’ve prayed every day for: this child is a miracle. And it doesn’t end there.  A little boy, who may never have stopped playing trucks to cuddle, or read instead of wrestle, now comes to me: arms full of books! He sits, snuggled in, and listens to story after story; for as long as I will let him. Together, we are learning all about the world; through the course of what we read; and through the eyes of each other.  And oh, how he makes me laugh! Oh—how he makes me love.  He gives me the drive to be my best for him; the hope of a future that contains him; and the joy that there is more to life than what I once knew. God has been with me every step of the way. He has gifted me the saving love a mere child can hold; first in His Son; and now, as a beautiful reflection in my own.

So, if a child can unknowingly be the hands and feet (and heart) of Christ—how much more can we, if we try? Or do we really have to “try” at all? From what I have seen, it is a pure, uninhibited, humble presence that opens one up to being Christ for another. That is what I am going to pray for this week: to have such a pure, childlike, faith that being Christ to the world just “flows.”

Blessings and love to you all,

Kate

 "In the multitude of my anxieties within me, 

Your comforts delight my soul." 

Psalm 94:19

 "Why are you in despair, O my soul? 

And why have you become disturbed within me? 

Hope in God, for I shall again praise 

Him for the help of His presence." 

Psalm 42:5

 "Therefore I will look to the LORD; 

I will wait for the God of my salvation; 

my God will hear me." 

Micah 7:7