Today I think the calm after a storm is beautiful. My mother was admitted to the hospital yesterday. For anyone that has been following my posts the past month, you know that this has been a long road – and it still isn’t over. She has been struggling for some time, but if you would like some background information please refer to yesterday’s post (link to come when I get on my laptop tomorrow). She is alright, but the doctors can’t seem to find a reason for her consistent fever and chills. It has been rough. First of all, to see her this way has been awful. She is worn down and exhausted all the time, I miss the woman she was before she got sick and more than anything I would love to see the doctors make a breakthrough tomorrow. I know it’s Easter – but maybe God could send us a miracle?
Second of all, keeping the house running has been difficult. I don’t drive – for reasons that we can discuss on another day – and finding rides to go places instead of bothering my mom is a feat. Plus I have taken over her role in the house. I have learned more about cooking than I ever knew I could learn in such a short amount of time. I am also single handedly juggling the laundry and scheduling of appointments. I have a sister, but she is a mommy’s girl and is already struggling so much. Working around the house takes my mind off the situation and actually relaxes me – so I don’t mind. But the last month has been like a storm.
Until my mom was admitted to the hospital yesterday I was also taking charge of her care – cold washcloths, clean sheets daily, ice chips, etc. I would do it forever if that’s what she needed, but my point is that none of us saw this coming. We did not know how long term her sickness would be – and we still don’t know when it will all be over. It’s a storm. It’s wreaking havoc on my insides and in my mind. My family is clinging to each other and making things work, but we are being tossed around in a hurricane.
Today I visited my mom in the hospital. She looked horrible. She smelled like hospital soap and sweat. Her normally light hot chocolate skin was the color of dirty dishwater. Her hair was frizzy and I couldn’t see how a night in the hospital had made her any better. She looked worse. And through all of that, I was relieved. It feels good knowing that there are people looking after her and checking on her more than I could ever do. I know that no matter how uncomfortable she may be, she is getting help. The doctors will help her find the answer. I’m relieved and it feels like the calm after a storm.
I realize that technically the storm is far from over. Really, we have so far to go that even saying I see the end of it would be a lie. But the drilling of the rain has lessened and I can see hope glinting up in the clouds. I took a bath today and I just let the fresh smelling bubbles envelope me. I let myself feel like I know I will when the storm does pass. When I’m standing in the wreckage – celebrating the new blue sky. It felt like bliss. Like clean. Like home.
Please pray for my family as we continue on through our personal hurricane. It would mean a lot in you would mention us. This is my last post in my Lenten series. I hope you’ve enjoyed it in some ways, and learned a lot about me and yourself. Have an amazing Easter and enjoy your day. God bless!