Lilypie Waiting to adopt Ticker

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Before and After

I posted a comment on a friend's blog yesterday that got me thinking (and the switch to an insulin pump on Wednesday started the contemplation process as well). My comment was more of a confession; that my heart breaks every time I look at old pictures of my 6 year old. I actually get sad looking at them, knowing that the photos taken before Feb 19th, 2008 were the blissful days before Diabetes. A turning point when I felt our lives were turned upside down. I weep for the burden of his future with this disease. I grieve the loss of 'easy' days of life with a healthy child. I long for the things we once thought were difficult.

I see this picture on Valentine's day 2 years ago and see how pale and thin he looked. He just looks sick. The picture on the right is after about two months of receiving the daily insulin shots.

I've stated so many times how the Lord's arm has sustained me through the difficulty of this disease. I recognize that the Lord (and the hand of excellent doctors and researchers who have furthered treatment of this disease) sustained Andy's life. I also realize that although my prayers for Andy's complete healing have not been answered, God has sustained our family to proceed THROUGH this disease. This psalm is the cry of my heart through this pain:

Psalm 116: 1-13
I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.

Then I called on the name of the LORD :
"O LORD, save me!"
The LORD is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
The LORD protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.
For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living...

How can I repay the LORD
for all his goodness to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.
---
Any of you 'theologians' out there know what 'lifting up the cup of salvation' means? I don't know exactly what it means, but I can in my limited perspective, imagine standing at the head of a banquet table (my life) and offering up a toast. I toast the Almighty. Your goodness is unparalleled. Your mercy is never ending. Your strength is the source of my life. And although the cup our family drinks from is sometimes bitter, it is nothing compared to the sacrifice you made on our behalf. I drink to Your faithfulness, Lord, and Your willingness to stay by my side even when I turn my back on You, when I chose foolishness over wisdom.

I was challenged at Bible study this week, to daily, actually, get on my face before the Lord. It causes me to reflect on things (like this post), but it also humbles me sooo much to stay in that kind of posture for any length of time. Thanks, Jesus, for humbling yourself to be in the midst of the mess of humanity.

Does this look like a bitter life? Not a chance. My cup overflows...

4 comments:

Kristi W. said...

He sure is a beautiful boy, Sarah! I'm glad that God is faithful and that He loves our kids more than we do. :)

Thanks for sharing!

Kristi W.

Aimee said...

Great post, Sarah. Thank you for being open and transparent. Hugs and Love to you!

Peter and Nancy said...

I've felt some of those same fears with my oldest son, who has food allergies. I was so fearful about sending him to school, where peanut butter sandwiches are a choice on the hot lunch menu every day (and egg ingredients are in so many places you don't expect!). I had a hard time trusting complete strangers to save his life in case of a reaction.

I've had to practice relinquishing his life and future to God (over and over again!). You've spoken so well the knowledge that God loves our sons even more than we do . . . thanks for baring your heart.
Nancy

justme said...

Here I go again ... where's the tissue?