Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel

My fingers smell like Frankincense. I doused the kids with oils before they headed out the door for school. The older two are home with me. Still schooling at home. We're all still part of this crazy journey called life. With mixed schooling. And mixed feelings.

Samuel's MRI showed three cysts in his brain. One seems to be something he got when he was born or in the NICU. One is on the pituitary and the other an arachnoid cyst. Side effects include headaches and nausea; cue the aha moment.

This kid is going to be going through it. He's supposed to start growth hormone injections this week. Which is why we're working with neurology and endocrinology to keep close tabs on those brain cysts. In addition to getting his hearing aid which had to be postponed because the Dr wasn't available the day of our original appointment, we will also be reviewing the MRI's... and getting braces (orthodontist). Fun, fun.

And it stirs up all these past traumas. The life inside the Children's Hospital. And it requires this allowing myself to feel these feelings and to give them to God. To be able to speak plainly the times where it just wasn't fair... and yet to see God's faithfulness.

My heart is suffering grief and brokenness but not as one without hope. My Savior was born and he lived and suffered and died on my behalf so that grief, death, disease, sorrow, and brokenness are not a permanent thing but a passing through thing. A reminder that they can not hold me down forever. Just a little while. And then I will be free of it. Sometimes in the waiting it feels like forever.

I bought myself one of those little electric sign message boards. And the first thing that came to mind was Come, Emmanuel! At Christmas we celebrate His coming. His journeying from the throne, from perfection and praise, to this muddy, dirty, disheveled world. Being laid in a feeding trough where the animals ate out of. Humble. A King born as a pauper. Born of an "unwed" Mom.

And I await again, with groaning, Come, Oh Come Emmanuel. Jesus, please return. Rescue us.

And as we wait He redeems. He renews. He restores. It feels like forever but it's not.

So I'm breathing. Trusting. Crying. Surrendering. And holding onto the hope of our Emmanuel, our God with us.

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