Death to Blogger

Blogspot,

We have had our issues in the past. But as of today you are dead to me.

I was using my phone to edit the post I just wrote when you deleted the whole dang thing. Poof! As if it never existed.  It wasn't a particularly good post but I'd rather not have to rewrite it. Oh, and about that app update I installed yesterday--I think it's got a bug.

If you decide to repent and make that post reappear tomorrow, I might be able to forgive this grievous offense.  Otherwise we are going to have to figure out how to slide this thing on over to wordpress.

Consider yourself warned Blogger.

Do Not Be Anxious

It's looking like we are a go for surgery tomorrow. We did chest X-Rays and an RSV test to make sure your mild congestion is just that, and everything came out clear.  So we will report for duty at 5:30am and if all goes as planned we should be home in time for your afternoon nap.

Your first year of life brought at least 12 surgeries--at some point I lost count. During that time I assumed we would always be regulars at the TCH OR. A month before Liam was born we placed your shunt, and an incision hasn't been made since.  That in itself is miraculous--50% of shunts have to be replaced within the first two years. But here we are sitting pretty at 3 years and 1 month.

Clearly I am no newbie to sending my children into surgery and this one is minor compared to others. Then why so anxious? Because losing a child changes everything.  And when I let my brain swim in the dangerous waters of "what if"....what if there are complications? what if something goes very wrong? what if I have to leave the hospital without a baby again?...I feel the despair engulfing me, pulling me down into the abyss. It is all I can do to twist out of it's clutches, push for the light and gasp for air the instant it hits my skin. But as I stand dripping on the shore, remembering those seconds trapped below, I am certain another loss could be my undoing. Please Jesus let it not be so.

Yet this evening, a peace settled over my heart.  My tension melted away. God has always held you firmly in his hand, ordained your days. I know his plan for you is good.  I know his plan for ME is good. So I will not be anxious. I will let the peace of God which transcends all understanding guard my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus.  Over this surgery and the rest of your days.

(Update 11/16: I listened to this sermon by Steven Furtick this afternoon.  Would have been ideal for yesterday, but I still think it is worth posting here as a reminder for the next time I feel anxious.


Anxiety: Worry Don't Work
www.elevationchurch.org/sermons/treatment/part1 )