Most of our battles and biggest challenges rages within the confines of our mind. It’s a solitary experience, this great war we fight daily on our own. These past months I have retreated into this mindful confinement. I believed a lie that was so powerful it silenced me completely. I was convinced that by being so bold about my believe in Juneldè’s healing and full recovery, I was hurting God’s truth. Because in reality Juneldè is far from healed. So far removed is our daily lives from full recovery that I too started questioning my sanity in holding on so tightly.
The fog that this battle created overwhelmed any vision I had of Juneldè getting better. I was like a defeated soldier, loyal to my King, but broken down beyond repair. And then I did the only thing one can do when in a war…I seeked direction and Holy council from the One able to give a sound mind.
I am now ready to boldly proclaim that I believe. Not in Juneldè’s healing but in GOD. Not in full recovery but in GOD. Not in a blessed life but in GOD. Not in an abundant future but in GOD. However, because I believe in GOD I know without a doubt that he will give all of this to us, and yet so much more. That is biblical, that is true and that is grace.
Thus my silence is broken, together with my spirit of fear. I choose to live in love and power, not my own but given by the Holy Spirit.
On the 13th of January 2015 was the two year anniversary of Juneldè’s drowning. She is still making progress, slowly but surely. She is also continually facing setbacks, challenges and pain. On these days our battle can only be won by speaking His word and blessings. By refusing to accept any negativity in our lives, by renouncing and divorcing the thoughts that can hold us captive. And then there are the blessed days. The days that she is not constantly crying, spasming and seizing. Days when a smile, even small and askew, brightens our hearts. Days when she eats a bowl of soft porridge and smacks her lips asking for more. Days when her eyes focuses on our faces and we see recognition in those deep brown pools of wisdom. Days when we ask her to dream of her bright future, and she answers us yes with blinks. Days when the word mom escapes her lips in-between moans. Days when she is happy to be put down for a few minutes and looks around a room with attentive inquisitive eyes.
I am not unrealistic. I understand medically how impossible any hope of recovery is. I understand the vastness of her injuries and the snowball it creates daily into new symptoms we face. I am not in denial, it is impossible to be when you have a child like Juneldè.
I do however serve an unrealistic God, His power and greatness more vast than any injuries Juneldè might have. His Grace larger that any symptoms. His Name more powerful than any lie I dwell on in my mind.
Juneldè’s recovery is not in my hands. It is not in my power. It is not in my will. My greatest gift to my daughter is to release her daily into His hands, His power and His will…
And isn’t that the most amazing place for any of us to be?
From the archives – Written 20 January 2015