This Christmas was unlike any other I have ever had in my entire life. Two weeks prior we started coming down with some kind of virus that took a hold of our family like an octopus, meaning it sucked us in and held us captive. Every time we thought we were coming on the other side we would get hit again. We embraced the sickness, we hung lights all around the living room, pulled in mattresses and blankets and pillows and watched endless Christmas movies by the fire and puke buckets. We paused and although I had other plans we just let it be. There was nothing else we could do but let it be.
However, I started around Thanksgiving having a pain in my back and stomach that I couldn't seem to escape. After many attempts of healing and dealing with it myself I found myself in the ER a week before Christmas looking for answers but finding none. We made an appointment with a GI doctor who was wonderful and set me on a new course of treatment trying to narrow down some reasons this could be happening. It seemed his treatments were working and I was finally feeling a bit more relief, until I came down with whatever virus the kids had brought into our home. On Christmas Eve I was sick beyond words. Between my unknown illness and the virus my body began shutting down and refusing to fight. I couldn't sip water or move from the bed or floor in front of the toilet. The pain was the worst thing I have ever experienced in my whole life. Our Christmas Eve traditions ceased. We didn't go to a service, we didn't play games, we didn't watch a Christmas movie or make Christmas pizza. What few gifts we let the boys open on Christmas Eve were open in my bed surrounding a mom who was trying hard to not alarm the boys and failing miserably. Everything was broken.
At 7:30pm when I knew I couldn't make it any longer and I was saying goodbye to my babes and headed to the hospital...again. Broken. So so Broken.
My spirit was broken, my flesh was sick and my soul was angry. I had said the name of Jesus on repeat every time I was viciously heaving into the bowl of the toilet. I would moan prayers of pleading to heal me so I could be present on His coming, and yet...my flesh was broken. There was absolutely nothing I could do but surrender to the pain and brokenness and surrender to whatever His plans were, even if I didn't understand them.
I knew that my unknown illness and the virus had combined and made a terrible storm within my body. There wouldn't be answers in the ER, not that night, but maybe relief so I could make it to Christmas morning. That was the hope. After 6 hours of treatment and finally some relief I was able to be home. We arrived home at 3:30am and let my sweet friend (become sister) go be with her family...the love we have from this community deserves its own blog post that I plan on writing. My babes were up at 6:00am knowing mommy was sick but so overcome with excitement for the morning. Kevin my calm never falter, never broke, and remained so peaceful and gift giving for our family. Christmas morning this year was simple, there was no big breakfast, no big setups, no big anything...we just couldn't. There was a brokenness in our flesh we couldn't control and we just had to let grace upon grace be what drove the day. Which was lots of nothing. We opened gifts slowly and had no expectation for the day. There were no friends over, no big Christmas meal...there was a stillness and a respect for what had overtaken our family...exhaustion.
We had to remind our boys that we have to be ok when things don't go as planned. This was a hard Christmas, it really was, but it made it stop and realize that life itself was the greatest gift. I was out of the hospital and able to be semi present with my boys. That was a gift.
As I have been able to step out of that night and process it I have come to realize that despite our biggest efforts for Christmas...or honestly anything in our daily lives...we constantly are living in brokenness and no matter how much we try to mask the brokeness with ribbons and bows beneath it all lies the reality of it all...imperfect flesh.
But Jesus, oh my sweet sweet Jesus. It is the very reason He came, the very reason we celebrate His birth year after year, why our souls long for the ultimate healing and peace...because despite any of our greatest efforts we are at the very core, broken and weary people thankful for the Savior. I am so very thankful. And although we still don't know what's wrong with me, and we have been on this journey for what seems like an eternity, I cannot for one second put my trust in the ribbons and bows of this earth, they will eventually break and teather...but I can tie myself to the hope of my Lord and Savior, Emmanuel, God with us.
We may never find the answers to my broken body, we may never fully understand why Jesus has me to walk this journey, but I can't complain, and I can't be angry, because all of our bodies are broken, my peace- oh my peace, yes it comes in the hope what will be, the hope of what's to come, the hope that I can close my eyes and know that this broken body will one day be healed in the presence of the Almighty One. That, makes this time on earth much more doable, the pain will last but a day...it is only but seconds compared to eternity. I have to keep my eyes lifted up, knowing that He is my only hope, my only healing, my only peace. And somehow that makes all of this ok....it sucks....don't get me wrong, but it is okay.
But sweet, precious, almighty, JESUS.
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