On Easter morning our priest said that because of Jesus’ resurrection, “pain does not have the last word.” I told my husband Matt how true and hopeful that is, that when we bring our pain to Jesus, He heals and transforms it, transforms us, and we are a new creation. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it.
We started talking about what happens when we hold on to the pain, that it’s often just shoved down deep, but Jesus wants to heal that pain.
Trauma means a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. I bet all of us in some way have experienced trauma in the last few years. Matt and I had something traumatic happen to us this summer, and we’re still exploring the lasting effects it had on us. This morning I sensed Jesus asking me to write down the story from this summer from my perspective. I hope it could help shed some light to someone that even if things “end well” or aren’t as “big of a deal” compared to what happened to others, there can often be wounds we hide away in those tender places of the heart. Jesus is a safe place to bring our wounds. It never feels good remembering the pain, but He will never leave you, and He will care for your wounds with all the gentleness and tenderness of a mother or a nurse.
At the end of last July, it had been a rough week. Ruthie had been struggling with coughing and breathing for a few days. She was hospitalized for RSV late Friday night, and released the next afternoon to continue healing at home. She slept roughly for the next few days, so I stayed awake and moving with coffee. Along with taking care of her, I was running the kids to their activities, packing for a weekend retreat, and the next week’s family vacation. It wasn’t that extreme or outside of the norm to have a million things on my plate, so I didn’t think much about taking care of myself and getting rest (that’s what I thought the retreat was for).
When I started driving to the retreat I felt some tightness in my chest, and figured it would heal itself once I slowed down and slept in a quiet place that night. I ate dinner, had time for prayer, but still wasn’t feeling better. I wrote in my journal, “Poppa, I just want to climb up into your arms and for you to hold me there. The way I held Ruthie in the hospital, would you hold me like that Poppa? Would you just let me rest and fill me with all I need to be filled with? I remember laying on the hospital bed with Ruthie on my lap and they were trying to put the IV into her arms unsuccessfully. One of the nurses held the iPad and it just made so much noise. I told them to put it away. I didn’t want her to be soothed by the tv show – I wanted her to hear my voice, her mom’s voice, telling her that everything was going to be okay. I was there with her. Yes Poppa, your voice is the one I want to hear now – speak to me. Heal the needle poking that’s been happening these last 2 weeks, one poke after the other. I come to you now, to lay on your lap, in your arms, so I can be strengthened, I can be healed, I can be soothed, I can rest, and live as your daughter – courageous and loving. Your voice is the only one I want to hear. Speak to me Poppa, your daughter, is listening.”
I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning I was still having trouble breathing, and sitting still was really hard. I left the morning activity and went to lay down in my bed. I called Matt and told him I thought I needed to leave. He asked if I wanted him to come and I told him I could just drive home. I packed my bags, and it’s silly now thinking of it, but I went to the retreat center to erase my name from a list I’d put my name on. There I stopped in the adoration chapel, got on my knees and I begged Jesus to heal me, right then and there. He didn’t. I felt so awful, so I left and went back to the room. I couldn’t find a phone number to notify anyone at the retreat how I was feeling and that I was leaving, so I called Matt again to ask him what I should do. My hands and feet were starting to have a tingling/numbing feeling. He told me he was already on the way to pick me up, and to call 911, so I did.
From there I laid down and kept the phone by my ear as I waited for the ambulance to arrive. I had no idea how they were going to find me on this huge property that was gated at the entrance. My arms and legs were now completely tensed up and numb, and I could feel the numbness starting to spread up my pelvis and abdomen areas. That was the moment when I heard the sirens closer and closer, and then I heard people in the hallways. I couldn’t move, but I heard them knock and call my name. They got the door open and started checking on me, asking questions, and I heard Matt talking to me and the medical team. I was so relieved to hear his voice. I had trouble responding to their questions, but they got me hooked up to some fluids and on a stretcher to get in an ambulance. I remember someone telling me to wave at my son Seth so that he wouldn’t be worried. After tests in the hospital, it was determined my potassium was dangerously low, most likely caused by stress. I wish I could say the story ended there, but as with all traumatic events, there are lasting effects to both Matt and me that like I said, we’re still exploring nine months later.
I have asked Jesus so many times to heal the new anxiety that my body expresses when it is stressed. Thankfully, after a few tough months, modern medicine allowed me to function again – praise God! I have learned how to rest when my body needs it and to recognize symptoms of stress. I cannot believe how many other people have expressed their struggles with stress and anxiety since this has happened – I am not alone and have learned so much from them.
I have no doubts that God was always there taking care of me, and am so grateful for the nudge to call Matt when I did. I was rescued in time, and the diagnosis did not take long. God has shown me so much compassion and kindness through others – my husband, kids, family, friends, the medical team.
I am going to stop here for now. I like to focus on the good, and even when I write, I try to capture the good. But as I write this story down, questions bubble up, and I’m still wrestling with what happened. I wish it wouldn’t have happened.
Trauma. Let’s name these distressing experiences that have lasting effects, and bring them to our one true Redeemer and Restorer.
Jesus, you are my hope. I welcome you to gently and tenderly heal my wounds that threaten my livelihood, my wholeness, my relationships, my ability to love. I bring you the pain. My heart is especially heavy as to how this all affected Matt. I wish I knew how the story ends. I trust in you to take care of him, of us. Fill us with your love and truth. I love you and place my hope in you. Amen.
Graves Into Gardens ft. Brandon Lake | Live | Elevation Worship
My Heart, My Home 