Psalm for the Hurricane

 If in 2024 life rained a bit, which it did: if the saying is true that when it rains it pours, which it has...then the last 2 weeks the wind picked up too and things turned into a full-on hurricane. 

The hard thing about a hurricane happening after a lot of rain is that the ground is already pretty saturated. It doesn't take much to cause a flood. I went into it all quite sleep deprived and honestly quite tired of all of this fighting. But the good thing about it is that quite a lot of preparation has been done up until this point. The rain doesn't sting my eyes like it did before. Or maybe it hurts even more but I have just gotten better at wiping them. I'm not turning into a storm chaser. I dream about brighter sunnier days. But if there is one thing, I can say about 2024 is that the Lord is truly close to the broken hearted. He saves those who are crushed in spirit. 

In other words, even though it's awful, it isn't always that bad.

The word God gave me at the end of last year to be the theme of 2024 was prayer. It was really cool because the first Sunday at church our pastor announced that would be the theme of the church's year as well. I feel like maybe the slightly righter word would have been Psalms. Because that is where I have lived and breathed this year. But maybe prayer is sort of the same thing. The whole book of Psalms is basically one desperate prayer after another. 

12 days ago, I left at 4 am with my oldest son in my husband's truck and drove to Orlando where he underwent hours-long very intricate spinal surgery. He went willingly, since we all knew it really wasn't an option, but he went sadly too. Because he is young and strong and healthy, and he knew he would have to start back over, and no one wants to have to do that. I think I was prepared as I could be, and maybe I am glad I didn't prepare more because the whole thing was pretty horrific. This is his story really; I am only a bit part in it so there's not much I can really say except that watching your child go through something like that is gut-wrenching. I almost threw up out of pure grief. I cried a lot, but not the sobs I wanted to let loose, just the kind that leaks hot out of your eyes while you clench your fists and hold someone's hands and wish you could take his place. That he could fly away again and just be that carefree kid on a skateboard or laughing with his friends. 

I think now he will never quite be that carefree kid again, and I feel sad about that at the same time as I know that it's ok. Not many 15-year-olds have gone through something as extreme as he just went through, as he will continue to go through for several months' recovery. It is as much a mental breaking as it is physical. But I know from walking through this life so far, and especially this year, that ultimately this is a gift, if we let it. Not only will going through all of this make him straighter, help him breathe better, prevent chronic pain in his future...but it has also forced him to a place that's deeper than he has been. He is not yet sure if he is strong, but he has shown his strength. He has had to face those big questions. Like why is this happening to me? He will have to decide if this is something God is doing to Him, or if this is something bad that happened that God has held his hand through. As I watched him in some of his deepest pain, I cried and wished I could take it away. And I also cried thinking of the agony Jesus suffered to save me. To save my son. I don't understand any of it. I wish it all could be easier. But my ways are not His ways. And He will make this good.

This week, I camped out in one Psalm that I have often enjoyed reading the kids. I think because there is something fantastically inspiring about it. Something that has us picturing God in ways we don't always. Like a hero that is actually terrifying. Like a fire breathing dragon that comes to the defense of the little guy who stands firm but also recognizes his complete inability to stand on his own. 

6 In my distress I called to the Lord.
    I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice.
    my cry came before him, into his ears.
7 The earth trembled and quaked,
    and the foundations of the mountains shook.
    they trembled because he was angry.
8 Smoke rose from his nostrils.
    consuming fire came from his mouth,
    burning coals blazed out of it.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
He drew me out of deep waters...
He brought me out into a spacious place.
He rescued me because He delighted in me.
Psalm 18:6-8, 10, 19

 The whole Psalm goes on like that, and I find myself leaning back. I can't help but smiling. If God is for us, who can be against us? It is only fear that we must truly fear because it keeps us from seeing Him.

They kicked my son out of the hospital less than 48 hours after his surgery. He had finally stopped throwing up though he was still barely able to eat. He could choke down his medicine orally. He could not stand to sit still and wanted to walk and walk and walk. The meds that were supposed to relax him made him feel more wired than ever. He refused the wheelchair and walked all the way out to the parking garage.  JT and I were exhausted beyond belief. We had spent the weekend bouncing between a hotel with the younger kids and the bedside of our oldest and there was no time to process any of it. The next day the contractors were back at our house to remodel the master bedroom. They started work on the roof. I lay in bed in the living room and listened for the clockwork cries of pain that brought me back to the newborn days when I walked the same boy for hours. This time we walked the streets outside our house. Sometimes pausing to hold on to the roof dumpster. Just like those days there was nothing I could truly do to help except be there. Walk beside. Put him in the hands of the one who heals.

Things have settled down over the past couple of days. His grandparents got him a new very nice bed for his upcoming 16th birthday. One that supports his now over 6-foot frame and his newly shaped and healing back. He is sleeping through the night again for the past 2 nights. The Tylenol does not have to be scheduled but taken as needed. But the remodeling continues and will for months. In our new old house, which makes me happy, because this is the first home we have had that I want to stay in for a long long time. A forever home if there really is such a thing. The physical remodeling will also continue in a healing back. It will take months before he will be back to the hours of skateboarding and going to the gym and landscaping that he was doing all summer before this. That's hard for a teenage guy.

But it is the remodeling of the heart that is most certain. That never really ends. Not until heaven anyway. These old earthly hearts will always have something that's broken. I just have to keep remembering to place myself in the hands of the one who heals. The One who hates to see us hurting. The One who wants to take our place in our suffering. And did.