Remember that time I was going to send out our Christmas email newsletter? And, I was going to show Danny’s fan-tabulous results and talk about our 2014 goals?

Yeah, so that didn’t happen. Obviously.

You know what did happen?

I found the end of my rope. I found the white flag and was ready to wave it wildly in the air.

The holidays were a mixture of very highs, very lows, very nothings and quite brain injury-ed (totally a real word).

The thing is, it’s like a game of Don’t Break the Ice during the last two weeks of December. Every. Year.

Christmas is my favorite holiday. I love having my house decorated. I love getting presents for everyone and baking my families’ favorite things. Christmas Eve service is the best all year. Corbin is out of school, Danny doesn’t have therapy and I usually get some time away from work. My parents come all the way from Arizona to celebrate and help us with the to-dos around the house. We drink coffee. We drink wine. We laugh and play games. We eat yummy food and my mom does the laundry.

Like I said, it’s my favorite.

But, Danny goes into this funk that my comprehension can only assign as brain injury.

Maybe it’s the change in schedule. Maybe it’s the sharing of our space. Maybe it’s the lack of independence and that he still doesn’t have a freaking power wheelchair (losing my mind).

Maybe it’s the brain injury.

And, it’s that stupid maybe that drives me out of my ever loving mind.

Not just because I don’t know and our parents don’t know and our awesome kid doesn’t know.

But, Danny doesn’t know either.

The specialists can tell me the functionality of the frontal lobe of the brain and the extent of his damage there, but no one can tell me how to fix it. And, not so much fix it, but to make it stop.

Make the hurting stop.

We have all hurt enough.

Our beautiful son; oh Lord, help me. Corbin is not immune to our frustrations with the duration of recovery, the grief of what was lost and the struggle to make something beautiful out of the pieces that are left.

I hold myself partly responsible. I’m not 8 years old and I’m not the one in the relationship with a brain injury. I should be able to control my mouth. But, oh, the frustration and the hurt and the desire for it all to go away.

No amount of brain injury education can prepare you or paint a clear picture of what your loved one will be like. Your heart still feels. Your heart still aches for the loss that comes with never ending grief.

I feel like the rudder that steers this ship on the stormy waves trying to get us to safety, to get us to solid ground. And there are days that it is too much for any one person to handle.

It can be too much pressure to bear.

Yet, I know the One who walks on the water, over the stormy waves. I know the One who asks me to let go of my rope and grab onto Hope. I know the One who says to wave my white flag in surrender to His plan for He loves me and is in the business of the impossible.

He paints the masterpiece of our lives. He writes and conducts the orchestra’s symphony. He has our story to tell for His glory.

And, I try to bend to that purpose, bend to that Truth. Yet, I only find myself bowing low in prayer over and over in hopes that maybe this prayer will be the one to yield Him to make our impossible become reality.

I often feel like a fraud of a Christian because I am the one who says, “Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief.”

I waiver.

I waiver and look to the Word to steady myself.

I find my voice:

So I wait for the Eternal—my soul awaits rescue—
and I put my hope in His transforming word.
My soul waits for the Lord to break into the world
more than night watchmen expect the break of day,
even more than night watchmen expect the break of day.

Psalm 130: 5-6

The maybes of brain injury and the unknowns of this world can be so cruel. Yet, I will wait for the Lord to break into the natural world to transform us.

I am a watchman looking for a new dawn.

What about you? What do you hope for? Do you waiver in your faith?

6 thoughts on “The Watchman & the Maybe

  • February 3, 2014 at 7:51 pm

    I’ve waved that white flag a few times myself lately. And I’ve prayed those same prayers. I love your family. I am still in awe of the testament you are to Him.

  • February 3, 2014 at 8:29 pm

    Sweet girl-you are such an incredibly beautiful gift from God-BOTTOM LINE! Please know that Danny & your little man adore you, even when you feel the guilt of imperfection…….when you feel inadequate……or that you’ve failed. You are MORE THAN ENOUGH-you are AMAZEBALLS! Keep your chin up & LET IT GO!…….Just like in the Disney movie “Frozen”. You can do this-and you will shine……..& you will shine so crazy-BRIGHT!

    So much love to you, Danny & your entire family from us-here in California. We are praying for you guys daily-
    Ang & Ray

  • February 3, 2014 at 8:32 pm

    Allison, do I waiver? Only every other day. I have had my fair share of heart ache. Sometimes the sadness demons will not let me go- and I wonder “why God? Why did you take my husband and my children’s father? Why did you allow my husband to go so long unemployed? Why do we still walk this economic tight rope nearly every month?” The list could go on believe me. Today I was blessed to see some incredibly rediculous banter on fb. Ugly words lashing out about stupid football. It hit me that the suffering I’ve gone through has been a gift. It caused me to be plunged into a place where the sweet things, the precious things in life are made so clear. It changes a person to walk this walk. It’s changed you in amazing beautiful ways. I was reminded of words one of my dear sisters used to say to me- while we were fighting Ben’s cancer- ” Patrice, you don’t want to be one of those shallow house wives. This has all been a precious gift from God to bring about the kind of realness and depth that can’t be found in Bible study or teaching. It can only be had sometimes when you’ve walked through a fire you have been sent to by God. This is your gift. ” a few years ago this sweet sister was even taken from me, at the age of 43. I miss her words to me. So! I feel you. I complain. I struggle with anger. I WAIVER. But, He does not. For what, if anything it’s worth. I see the gift you’ve been given, and the work it’s done/ is doing. You are blessed in a different way. I pray for you often.

  • February 4, 2014 at 8:23 am

    You have so eloquently say what we all feel at various times in life — tired of the maybes, tired of the waiting, wondering if we truly believe or not. Praying for supernatural strength for today friend. You are loved.

  • February 8, 2014 at 12:34 pm

    Sweet cousin. I appreciate your transparency. I wish I could “star trek” myself over there to help support you. I’d love to just take over for a while, do your dishes and laundry, make some meals, just give you a break. I have no words of wisdom for you, just encouragement. God knows. God is there. This won’t last forever. Come soon Lord Jesus!!!

    Just know that I LOVE YOU and pray for you and your family often.

  • February 8, 2014 at 12:38 pm

    I just wrote out a scripture that I am meditating on this week. I’m sending it your way with a big fat hug.

    “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
    Gal. 6:9

    Love you!

Leave a Reply