Did you know that the human voice takes a certain pitch that is identifiable to an emergency that is unique, but understood? Actually, I don’t know about the scientific basis of that statement, but I’ve heard it many times in my life. It is in the sound of a certain cry or the way your name is spoken and sometimes it’s even in the silence, but you will know it when it happens and your body automatically processes that this is big, this is an emergency and you fly into action.
I am not a blood person. My children, strangers or animals, it doesn’t matter…I don’t do blood. The kids are very inconsiderate of this fact. Constantly shoving their scrapes and boo-boos in my face, to check them out and administer first aid or kisses. But the “cry” came yesterday and my preferences had to settle on the back burner.
Not only did I find myself cleaning and wiping up copious amounts of blood from the boys head wound, but I found myself having to get real intimate with the actual gash to determine placement, severity and depth. Keeping a calm voice usually given to skittish horses, scared kitties or possibly a masked gunman wanting my inherited pearls, I handled the boy and his gushing slash.
Once it was determined that an ER visit was required and Dad would provide transport, I waited until they were on their way and started cleaning up the blood from the vanity and all the soaked towels. The queasiness quickly caught up with me and the lightheaded feeling started. I had made it through the crisis with an unmatched fortitude, but now I was going to need to sit down and try not to throw up.
This is how it is with life’s challenging times. You will find that you have just enough strength to make it through the initial crisis, but then you just want to throw up and rest.
I was talking to a friend the other night who is going through some serious yuckiness in her life. She expressed how she seems to barely make it through the day and is exhausted and worn by the time the night comes.
It’s that moment that a life crisis happens. Amazingly you look back and realized that somehow you survived another day, but you have no idea how you are going to make it tomorrow. So you rest.
These are the promises of your endurance:
…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on the wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
There are so many more reassurances, but the principle of it is that these things happening are not to wear you out and weaken you. They are happening, because that’s life. The promise though is that you will be met in these dark moments and will be given the strength to make it through. Yes, by the end of the crisis you may flop down white-faced and nauseous, but you will make it through and tomorrow…well, you will be able to do it again.
Categories: Adversity, may 2013 diary entry
Been there, done that, marveled at and wondered where the strength came from, then lived to take on another crisis. Life is real.
Yup, it’s crazy. I’ve had some days I was sure I wouldn’t make it through, but I did and He is faithful.
This has often been my experience. Cool and calm in a crisis, flat on my back the entire next day sometimes. The Lord gave me such strength to care for my first son when he was born with a serious heart defect. Nine month old and I finally collapsed under the weight of my first bipolar episode ever, considered postpartum. Since then, the Lord has often picked me up and carried me when I could no longer go on. He is faithful!
He is faithful always and in all ways!
Thank you sharing, Libby. I had a VSD daughter and I have to say that although I held up, I was barely hanging on (so I empathize somewhat) thankfully we had some great nurses that encouraged self care for the mom and I had needs met quickly and intuitively.