It's 1:11 AM and I'm up. It's not because I'm tired, rather because I'm deeply troubled and need to get these words out before I lose awareness yet again. It seems that lately, if I sit for more than 5 minutes, I fall asleep.
The weekend at home hasn't been great so far. I had images of doing fun things of Logan's choosing and just being together, but it hasn't panned out that way. Instead, he's been cranky, demanding and unwilling to do much other than sit and watch Tiny Toons on DVD. The past several nights have been even worse, with him thrashing and practically screaming out in his sleep every 5 to 20 minutes all night long, saying things like 'she wants a different one! NO! It hurts!' and 'it hurts, I want medicine'. It seems clear that he's suffering from nightmares about being poked and prodded in the hospital and it breaks my heart since I don't know what to do to help him cope. I can hardly cope myself. If I'm being honest - and there's really no point in being up at 1 AM writing if I'm NOT being honest - I'll admit that I too have been struggling with nightmares lately. Awful, scary ones that I've had before and had vanquished but have now returned for a second or third (or fiftieth) showing in my unconscious mind. Further truth be told, I'm up right now because I had one earlier tonight. As much as those images haunt me as an adult, I'm sure it only scratches the surface of what my sweet son feels.
Please pray for calm for Logan so he can sleep and continue the healing process from surgery and be strong for upcoming treatment. I don't know what to do to help him, but I know that God can handle it. In these wee hours, I'm reminded of a song the children sing at Shining Light, where Logan was due to start his second year of preschool next week: "My God is so BIG, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do'. It may be a kids' song, but the words ring with fundamental truth.
To change gears, I want to touch on Saturday a little before I let my eyes close again. I awoke yesterday morning feeling utterly drained, exhausted, hopeless and headed for a bout with depression. I'm cynical by nature, so feeling sad to the point of depression isn't unfamiliar territory, though it's been several years since I've felt the sting. Anyway, I'd arranged to meet with Pastor Mike, our preacher, and did so - haltingly at first - in the afternoon. We drove to a local park and sat in partial sunlight on a bench. Before the conversation got started, my walls were firmly in place, effectively locking in pain and locking out healing. When he initially asked how I felt, I thought for a few moments, and finally replied 'dead'. I went on to share a lot of my heart, as I've done here in my notes, alternately crying and feeling calm.
Over the course of two hours, I realized that I was gradually feeling better, more hopeful, and that a lot of the iciness of my bad feelings was melting away. He encouraged me to not be afraid to pray the big, bold prayer, even if it's a risk and it's scary. So I'm going to pray for complete healing for Logan; that God will heal him and make him my happy, smiling child once again and restore our family to its former glory. Even now, as I write it out, I feel resistance from within, telling me 'why pray that? What if something goes wrong and you don't get what you want here and your heart breaks?' My response? Why not pray it? I acknowledge that I have no control over anything here and that I desperately need God to step in and take the reigns. I need Him to touch my little boy and heal him. I continue to believe and profess that all it would take to make Logan well again is a brush of His smallest fingertip. I hold onto my mustard seed of hope and cry out for that blessing, that miracle.
There's so much more I could say here, but once again, I have to stop and rest. Thank you for your prayers and please keep them up for all of us: Logan, Adam, Abby, Isaac, baby #4 and myself. Blessings.