Finding “Glory” in Sufferings Pt. One
“We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” —Romans 5:3-4
I feel like I’m entering into a season of suffering. A bunch of hard things have hit our family in ways I wasn’t prepared for—I’m a preparer so I’m feeling uneasy.
It started with Nolan interrupting our couple’s quarrel at 11 pm, because he was having trouble breathing. He ran into our room crying and wheezing. There is nothing scarier than watching your child struggle to breathe. Before bed, Nolan had a few bug bites on his face so our first thought was he was having an allergic reaction to the bites. I immediately FaceTimed my dad for him to see Nolan’s state and advise us to either stay home or head to the ER. My dad said go to the ER. That’s how frightening the situation appeared. As Ryan got dressed and his truck ready, I held Nolan tightly in the bathroom with the shower running filling the space with hot steam. As I rocked him, I prayed.
When Ryan and Nolan left, I cried. I mean wept. I started thinking of worse case scenarios. What if Nolan stops breathing during the 25 min drive? What if Ryan calls me telling me Nolan didn’t make it? How I wished I could be there with them but I also felt thankful that Nolan couldn’t see my fear. I turned to YouTube and listened to our former church’s worship team sing Hillsong Young & Free’s “Peace” on repeat. It calmed me down. I prayed, texted close friends to pray and pleaded with God to let Nolan be alright.
The waiting felt merciless. I was glued to my phone pestering Ryan for updates. They sat in the ER waiting room for almost 2 hours. All the while, Nolan coughed but his breathing regulated. He was in good spirits, glad to have a “new hospital bracelet” and also eager to return home. After asking for an update on when Nolan would be seen, Ryan decided to come home instead of wait for another few hours exposing himself and Nolan to other illnesses.
I remember thinking Ryan wasn’t advocating enough for Nolan at the ER. Nolan is a child with breathing issues, Ryan must’ve downplayed things, which is why they weren’t listed as a priority. When they got home, we settled Nolan in our bed for the night so we could keep him close and monitor him. Ryan and I went to bed angry at each other. He was angry that I didn’t trust him and I was angry because I wasn’t in control.
The next day after a bunch of passive aggressive text messages between me and Ryan, I took Nolan to the pediatrician’s office where he was diagnosed with Croup. I was so relieved. He had Croup at the start of school last year too. When Ryan got home, he explained how my micro-managing hurt his feelings, I apologized. I am so glad I wasn’t the one to take Nolan to the ER. I know I wouldn’t have handled waiting in that ER for our turn. I wouldn’t have been able to do what Ryan did during that time: calm Nolan down, get Nolan laughing, and make him feel safe. I know this now and it’s one of the reasons I’m thankful Ryan goes calm when I go scared.
We kept Nolan home from school that week to ensure that his cough diminished and his breathing stayed regular. Thankfully, he is almost back to his normal silly “cough-free” self.
That Sunday is when our next misfortune happened: I got a 2nd degree burn on my forearm from soup. I was microwaving the homemade butternut squash soup I made for Ryan. He said it wasn’t hot enough so I microwaved it for 1 minute longer. As I reached for the glass bowl, I noted that it was hot, but I thought I could still carry it out. As I pulled it out, I realized it was hotter than I expected. I threw the bowl on the counter (it didn’t break) and the soup splatted across the floor, counter and my forearm. I was in shock at how hot the soup was that it took me a minute to rinse the soup off. I screamed several curse words, which made Austin come running to me in tears.
I didn't realize how bad the burn was until the next day when I removed my bandages to find raised blisters forming. The following week, my blisters transformed into one giant blister 3inches x 2 inches. It was so difficult heeding doctor’s orders of not letting the blister pop. I had to think before I reached for something. Intentionally choosing my left hand instead of my injured right was difficult. Lifting up my wiggly 1 year old was a challenge. Slinging him on my left hip felt awkward and unstable. I couldn’t wash my hair or shower for risk of damaging my bandage. Ryan washed my hair and it took over an hour of me explaining how to properly apply and detangle my hair with conditioner. I hated feeling so helpless.
I didn’t realize that “helpless” was nothing compared to the upcoming “news” coming to us the Friday after my minor accident.
[to be continued]