We've all felt it. It comes in various shapes and sizes without respect for age or background. It can kick you in the gut—when you don't get a desired job, or make the team, or garner attention from someone you were sure you would marry. Maybe it stabbed you when a trip to the bathroom dashed your hopes of a longed-for pregnancy. I still remember several years of that longing-turned-disappointment.As we live more years and know more people, disappointments seem to loom at every corner. We feel the disappointments of poor choices made by friends or family (or ourselves)—and relationships that didn't turn out the ways we had envisioned. Often they come in the form of health challenges. We don't ask for them, plan for them or desire them in any way.
As I have mentioned before, my husband has a (still) undiagnosed central nervous system disorder. In a year's time this villain has stolen his ability to walk, caused great fatigue and various other difficulties. However, recent MRI findings brought us new hope for a treatment that could "fix it." The doctors thought they saw a vein formation putting pressure on the spinal cord. To confirm this MRI "finding" my husband would need to go through a procedure (an angiogram) to locate and treat the problem.
We counted the days until August 10th—the day of the procedure. Though we knew it was not a sure cure, the doctors were hopeful and so were we. Full of faith, we dreamed of how we'd celebrate our new miracle.
Instead, the procedure showed the MRI findings to be false. To add insult to injury, he had a very difficult time waking up from anesthesia causing enough concern to land him an extra hospital stay. The night he came home he developed a high fever from infection. That day was also the hottest day of the year, and for some unknown reason the power in our house went out. It felt like cruel irony—power gone. It seemed that all we had hoped for resulted in "disappointment on steroids." A hard kick in the gut.
With significant sleep deprivation, the next morning I sat in a 100 degree parking lot outside of a lab while holding a little sterile jar of pee in a bag—and sobbed. And prayed. And wrestled with God. I asked him if he had heard me, and if he cared. I "reasoned" with him that we could accomplish so much more with renewed mobility and energy. I reminded God of his promises and how faith- building it would have been for all the grandchildren who fervently pray for their Papa.
I felt like I was sinking in mud and getting nowhere—like a time I got my car stuck in mud. The car wouldn't move forward, and sank lower and lower. I then reasoned that if perhaps I stepped on the accelerator a little harder I get could get out. Instead, mud flew and I sank even deeper.
