Light leads me on

I feel so silly today, like a little kid who threw a tantrum because she didn't get her own way, when really her papa was planning on giving her a second scoop of ice cream all along.

I got the call late last night, while I was lying awake in bed and worrying about Maurius. Just so you're aware, he's had another episode, and they're taking him back to the OR to put in a trach. For Maurius, an episode is nothing to be scoffed at, nothing like on TV, where everything is neatly packaged by the end of the show. In this case, nothing has been that simple. He'd somehow managed to block off his breathing tube for the second time in less than eight hours, and the doctors were simply unable to get another tube in its place. There were no other options.

Sleep was a long time coming last night as I sat on my couch and prayed even as I raged at God, unable even in my anger to stop asking Him for hope. Why can O'Brien have a miracle while Maurius suffers through yet another traumatic procedure? Why one and not the other? And yet I couldn't stop myself asking Him for wisdom, for skill, for sure-handed surgeons. Questioning His will and asking Him to provide all in one long, jumbled-up prayer that I'm sure the Spirit had to interpret for me because I know I wasn't making any sense.

So many of you have written and reminded me that it's okay to question, that it's okay to be angry, and I'm so grateful for that reassurance. Your words mixed with His in the dark of the night, and I found that I was able to trust even through my hurt. Remembering that the promised light is only for the next step. That even though right now all I can see is the snake across my path, the step after that, when the Light moves forward with me, might be something so incredible that I'll wonder why I was ever scared to begin with.

And so of course, with the morning came the light. Mercy new with the dawn, and Maurius is surprising us all. I sat with him while his nurse took her lunch break and the ventilator continued its relentless pulse. His bottom lip stuck out in a constant pout, and he kept trying to pull on the tubing connected to his new trach. The solution was obvious, although I'm not sure who ended up benefiting more from it when I stuck my finger in his chubby little hand and he held on with all his strength. His forehead smoothed out and his heart rate inched down a couple points and I sat there, the pain in my heart easing just a tiny bit, hardly daring to breathe while I watched him do so effortlessly. Such a change from yesterday, and his soft fingers clenched around mine let me hope in a way I hadn't dared before.

It appears Maurius has decided to stay with us, because when I checked on him again before leaving for the day, the ventilator sat in the corner, unplugged and silent. Maurius was wide awake, glaring at us with his furrowed brow, needing just a little oxygen blowing into his trach to help him breathe. He's apparently not a huge fan of all the fuss, and would most likely prefer to be in his mama's arms, chugging a bottle.

All that will come with time. Maurius is at the start of a long road, but the Light that's shown us the path this far will lead us home, I'm sure. And somewhere, in the background, I can almost hear God laughing at me. Not mocking or derisive, that laughter; just the amused chuckle of One who could see from the beginning that there was really nothing for me to get mad about in the first place. The One who knew I was going to get that second scoop of ice cream, and forty seven more, if only my bowl were big enough to hold it all at once.

I'd like a bigger bowl, please.