testing ground...

“For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.”  Job 19:25

“But He knoweth the way that I take; when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”  Job 23:10

I find a lot of encouragement in the words of Job.  This man who lost everything--wealth, children, friends, health--so that he even despaired of his life.  But he said of God, “though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.”  (Job 13:15a)  Job trusted, but he desired to reason with God and plead his case before Him.  The cry of Job’s heart, described in the book of Job, echoes the pain of all of us who ask “why, God?  Why must this be?” 

This has been a weekend of testing.  Maybe for someone who does not battle chronic anxiety it would not seem such a difficult test...but God tests us according to our strength and where our rough edges need to be refined.  So He has been testing me exactly in the areas where I am weak; and it is a question of whether I will fall apart, or whether I will grab His hand tightly and hold on.

Part of my chronic anxiety is great fear for my family.  Sometimes stemming from a legitimate source of anxiety, such as an illness or injury; but my anxiety takes a rational uneasiness to a level of fear that sometimes almost paralyzes me.  And, as every mom knows, if someone in the family is sick or hurt, the last thing a mom can afford to do is to be paralyzed with fear to the point of not being able to function.

My children have all had asthma from the time they were babies.  When my oldest was just under a year old, he contracted pneumonia; and, a few short months later, a frightening combination of pneumonia and RSV.  And my next two children developed asthma as babies.  So, although their asthma is much better controlled now that they are older, I am always legitimately uneasy about respiratory infections.

And, for the last two weeks, my youngest has had a cold that just will...not...leave.  Aaahhh.  Nothing major, no high fevers or severe asthma attacks or anything else that looked urgent.  But after it hung on this long, I finally took him to the doctor.  It turned out to be a sinus infection that should be reasonably taken care of with antibiotics.  But the combination of nagging fear and dealing with a sick, miserable child for the last while has been wearing me down.

My middle daughter had been out at a sleepover--another thing which wears on me.  I like my people home in their own beds for the night.  But, neither do I want my children to be slaves to my fears, so to the sleepover she went.  With a bunch of little girls, there was very little sleeping involved. 

And...a few hours before that, my oldest had been dropped off for his first ski trip.  No more needs to be said on that.  Other than that it took a supreme effort on my part to drive away.

So, in this worn out state, the next test wore on my last nerve like a rough pick on a stretched out guitar string.  My husband works hard for us, both at work and at home.  We have an outdoor wood burner to heat our house, and in the process of filling the fire a week or so ago, he caught his finger between a large piece of firewood and the side of the firebox.  It gave a nasty blood blister on his finger (thank God he had gloves on) but seemed to be healing ok.  Then a few days ago, while cutting firewood, he dropped another piece of wood on it and reopened the wound.  The next day or two, I thought the finger looked swollen, but when I questioned him he said it was fine.  Of course it wasn’t.

Friday night, he felt sick, but we were all passing this cold/low grade fever thing back and forth and I chalked it up to that.  Then, Saturday morning, when he got up for work, he couldn’t bend his injured finger, and it was swollen back to the 2nd knuckle.  At least he didn’t protest when I said he needed to go to the doctor, and even agreed to leave work early to do so (something he almost never does).

At his doctor’s appointment soon after lunch, the whole finger was swollen.  In spite of doubling his first dose of antibiotics so as to get a good jolt of them in his system, the swelling began to go back into his hand.  My kids were getting a good lesson in why, before antibiotics were developed, people used to chop limbs off immediately after an injury to avoid blood poisoning.  By 7 pm Saturday evening, I drew a line around the outer edges of the swelling and told my dearest hubby in no uncertain terms that if the swelling went any further on his hand in the next few hours, we were going to the hospital.  We put the kids to bed, sat up to watch a movie and wait. 

The prayers I sent up throughout that evening were what kept me from falling apart.  My dear friend Anne once suggested to me to invite Jesus into my moments of terror.  I had never thought of doing that--sometimes I was too frantic to think that clearly--but slowly, I had begun to make a habit of it.  So I prayed for the infection to stop (fighting back the thought of all the news stories of people who died or were maimed for life from a massive infection that started out just like this) and prayed frantically for calmness.  (Yes, that is possible...)  And Jesus came and stayed with me in those anxious hours. 

When the movie was done, we checked the hand again and the swelling had not expanded beyond the lines I had drawn.  And when he put his gloves on to go out to fill the fire (I had offered, but he stubbornly refused to let me do it), the left hand glove went on further than it had earlier.  It seemed to have turned a corner in the right direction.  I was thankful beyond words.

We are still watching the hand.  It is slowly improving and he is not feeling sick anymore.  But he cannot miss any doses of antibiotics, that is for sure.  Small Bear is still wiping his nose and sneezing all over things I don’t want sneezed on.  But he seems to be getting better.  Oldest son had a blast skiing, and was not the kid who went to the hospital with a concussion.  (Someone on High said, “enough is enough, she does not need that test too...”)  Daughter is still sleeping off her sleepover and seems exhausted.  I am hoping she does not get sick.

But I have not fallen apart.  Jesus has come in, to every dark and frightening corner of this illness in my mind.  And He is enough.

“Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?  declare, if thou hast understanding. 
Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest?  or who hath stretched the line upon it?  Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?  or who laid the cornerstone thereof;
When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?”  Job 38:4-7