Only the Weak Survive

    The ride home from the hospital had been no different than the previous few.  We had cried, laughed because we were crying, and then, cried again.  We were a mess.   Reality had come and we were struggling to wrap our minds around what we had been told. 

    We had both spent a sleepless night in ICU. The drug trial that had been attempted that day was to no avail.  The doctor told us there was no cure.  No one with this condition had ever been cured of it.   We were sent home to wonder what would happen next.  The best that we could hope for was that the progression of this condition would allow me to be in the 20% of people that survived 2-3 years more, after diagnosis.  Once the scarring of lung tissue had reached a certain level the search for a suitable donor would begin.  In that case, a double lung or heart/lung transplant would increase my chances of survival to 50% for five more years.

    For the first time in my life, I was in the grip of utter sorrow.   And now, back at home and alone for the first time in six weeks, I sought solace from the One who knew me best and loved me most.  Though driven to my knees in prayer, the only words that tumbled from my mouth were, "No one can take care of my family the way that I can!”  Prostrate on the floor, I dissolved into tears.  My tears were replaced by sobs of which I thought I was incapable.  There in my closet, I came to the end of myself.  No longer self-sufficient and able to handle whatever was thrown my way.  The mere thought of what I was up against was obscene.  The only thing that I knew for sure was that I could not carry this burden. Facing the unthinkable, it occurred to me that in order to be at peace, I was going to have to give up that which was most precious to me – my family – and place them in His hands. Though unable to find audible words to convey, my heart spoke to His.  I envisioned myself placing my husband and little boys into the strong and capable hands of the One who had given them to me.  Inexplicably, it was if the walls of my closet were folded away and He was there.  I sensed His Presence as never before.  It was as if He reached into my very soul and calmed my heart.  The sobs that had flooded the room ceased.  

    I stood that day with the understanding that I was powerless to help myself and yet sustained by the Omnipotent One, ignorant of my future and yet certain of the Omniscient One, unaware of where to go but reliant on the Omnipresent One…

II Corinthians 12:9   “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”