"Gentle!"

In writing about the success we're seeing now and with that, going over some of the "incidents" we've dealt with over the past few weeks, it got me to remembering a scary incident that happened last May that is actually kind of a funny memory.  I decided I want to share it, because it illustrates the depth of strength my daughter has.  She entered the world that way, and has allowed her trials to forge even greater strength from within and channel it with grace and humor.

One Saturday my husband took Brittany up the canyon to walk the paved trail at one of her favorite sites. While they were there someone passed them on skateboard, smoking a cigarette.  The result was her legs giving out on her and my husband having to help her to the car.  By the time they got home he had to carry her into the house.  This was shortly after she started having reactions that numbed and paralyzed her limbs for periods of time.  When they came in they said she couldn't feel or move her arms or her legs.  By the time this had happened, we had had so many incidents where she accidentally got corned, either from us not realizing it was in something she was eating or not making the connection between corn and aerosols/cleaning products, etc. or from someone walking by heavily perfumed or smoking, etc. that it was just one thing after another.  My husband sat her on the couch and then sat a can of coconut water on the coffee table in front of her as a joke.  I said, "What are you doing?" and he said, "If she wants it bad enough she'll get it."  I was so exasperated, but I think we were all so tired and frustrated by this point that we all started laughing.  Brittany said, "That is so mean!" but she was laughing, too.  My husband got the can to help her drink it and she ended up with too much in her mouth so it was dribbling down her face and because she couldn't move her arms she couldn't wipe it up.  That started more laughing. . .and then, she tipped over sideways.  Since arms and legs wouldn't move, she couldn't do anything about it.  My husband went to pull her back up and she said, "Gentle!" mimicking Wesley on the movie The Princess Bride.  We were all laughing so hard we could hardly breathe, and I was sitting there thinking, "I can't believe I'm sitting here laughing at my daughter when things are so horrible," and then she started cracking jokes about being a ventriloquist dummy.  We were laughing so hard we were crying, the whole time thinking how horrible it was to be laughing at her, but she was the one cracking the jokes about the situation.  I was completely in awe.

You hear all the time about how trials can make you stronger and can refine you into being a better person.  I have watched this happen with Brittany through this entire process.  We refer back to that night a lot, and she has said that at that point it was either cry or laugh.  It really is a choice.  She could have been angry and bitter throughout this whole process about a great many things, but instead she has allowed her relationship with God to grow as she has turned to Him during times of special need, and that sense of humor has blossomed and grown, as well.  Something else that I have marveled at, as well, has been the concern she has shown for others.  She has noticed when others are hurting emotionally or sensed when someone needed a boost, and found ways to fill those needs, even with how limited she has been in what she has been able to do physically.  There have been times as her mother when I've felt very frustrated at how lonely this whole process has been; she has felt it, as well, but has chosen to not dwell on those aspects.  As a result of how she has chosen to handle this trial, she has grown in so many beautiful ways.

One day a couple of years ago, before we figured out what was causing all the pain, I was having a really hard time emotionally.  Answers were slow in coming and we were basically living in doctors' offices, hospital testing appointments, chiropractor visits, the pharmacy--and when those things weren't going on it was really hard for her to even be out of bed because the pain was so intense.  We were sitting in the family room and I said, "If Jesus were here, I'd be the first in line to ask Him to heal you."  Without even missing a beat she looked at me and said, "There are other people who need it more than I do."  All of a sudden I had this clear image in my mind of her being in that situation and seeing someone with a more obvious physical disability and stepping aside for them and countless others to go first.  And I have no doubt that that is what she would have done; she is that kind of person.  I wept, not just out of sorrow for what she was going through and frustration that nothing was working, but out of awe.  I feel truly privileged to be the mother of this noble young woman who has such great love for others.

Being on this ride with her has taught me so much.  As mothers, it is often our job to "fix things."  No matter what we tried, I couldn't fix this.  When you find yourself in such a place, all you can do is wait on God to see what His will is, and make the most of each day as it comes.  Darker times than the one I described above came later, and I watched Brittany indeed make the most of each day.  Sometimes her one thing was waiting for the sunrise after being up all night so she could "watch God paint," as she put it.  She would take such joy in that experience, capturing it on her camera and letting herself feel God's love for her.

Sometimes I don't like God's timing, and I'm not very gracious about letting Him know that.  I certainly have not been crazy about His timing with this whole experience.  I am seeing, though, that He knows a lot more than I do, and He has made it very clear that He has a specific plan for her life.  At one time when I was feeling particularly anxious about the situation I felt the words, "I got this," come to my mind.  I didn't choose to let those words comfort me in that moment the way I could have.  Instead, I pretty much sassed back and said, "Really?  You got this?  Have you SEEN this?. . .'cause in case you haven't noticed, this isn't going so well."  (I'm pretty sure that when I pass to the other side I'm going to have a "Heidi, step into my office," moment.) Along with the words that were given to me was the feeling that I had done everything I could do up to that point and that He had it from there; if I had chosen to, I could have taken it as a "watching God paint" moment. Even though that's not how I chose to take it immediately, He chose to be patient with me and has taught me through my daughter's example what I can choose to do with my trials.

I'm learning that joy is a choice.  It's not something that magically comes along at some point after you've suffered enough, and then suddenly everything is all better and you are given joy.  We can learn to live joyfully regardless of our circumstances, and reach out and embrace each moment we are given to the fullest.  Learning to live day to day is a good idea in a lot of ways, even if you're not dealing with overwhelming trials that force you to make that choice or not.  It's a beautiful way to live.