You aren’t going under

When I sat down to write today’s post, I found I couldn’t put structure to the journal entry I wrote several years ago.  I saw Bible verses and song lyrics and broken thoughts….and fear and chaos and grief.  The list spanned twelve days, but, as I’m thinking back on it now, it seemed like months…long, terrifying, foggy months.

The fog descends

After looking at the list and trying to remember the events in those 2 weeks after Cody’s diagnosis, I texted a friend whose son also has epilepsy. Since he was diagnosed less than 18 months ago, I thought the sequence of events after the initial diagnosis may be fresher in her memory.  The thing we both realized was that it wasn’t a matter of forgetting now what had happened then, but of living in an absolute fog back then as the events unfolded.  That’s what grief does.  It numbs your brain and, when it isn’t ravaging your senses, it dulls them too.  There’s only so much pain and chaos our brains and hearts can take before the fog descends. 

Twelve days into epilepsy the fog descended.  I could barely breathe.  I couldn’t think.  I grabbed onto anything I could to try to keep from going under.  Do you know that feeling?  Of panic.  Of waves crashing over your head?  Of reaching out but not grasping anything?

Lifelines in the storm

ComeSoAlive.com includes a section called Lifelines.  That section idea came from this list which I wrote in my fog as I desperately needed to remind myself to grasp for something.  Grasp for something every day, just don’t give up.  I have “tidied” this list up a little bit but it feels more honest to include it here the way I wrote it…so if you are in the fog right now, you won’t feel so alone.

“Pray” bracelet all day – TALK TO GOD – pray w/o ceasing.

I wore a bracelet with a charm that had the word “Pray” on it the day of Cody’s neurology appointment.  I realized I would need that reminder instead of letting the fear overtake me.  The box the bracelet arrived in also had a little piece of paper in it that read, “Pray without ceasing… 1 Thessalonians 5:17.”  Not stress without ceasing, not fear without ceasing.  Pray, which is just a fancy word for TALK TO GOD!

But I will sing of your strength…  (Psa 59:16 HCSB)

I can do all this through him who gives me strength.  (Phil 4:13 NIV)

I love you, Lord, my strength.  (Psa 18:1 HCSB)

The one who calls you is faithful, who also will do this.  (1 Thess 5:24 LEB)

Next, I had written various Bible verses that I had previously found in books and Bible studies (or that had found me) and that I tried to use as a light through the fog, reciting them over and over when I was scared or couldn’t sleep.

11/2/14 seizure – listened to Multiplied all day, sang all day, replayed, replayed, replayed it.  Praise when brain won’t work and can’t do anything else.

I delight myself in you. (Overwhelmed, Big Daddy Weave)

I have surrendered to your design. (Multiplied, Needtobreathe)

11/3/14 woke to Bless the LORD, O my soul

I have always loved music but I needed music at this point.  Singing changed something in me, even when I was singing through tears and anger and confusion. It helped me survive.

11/4/14 – Drive to MRI, on ramp to I-94.  Thought, “Therefore I tell you whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it shall be yours” (Mark 11:24).  What do I believe?  God does not want Cody sick.  He did not do this to Cody. 

What do you believe?  What is your foundation, the thing you have to believe from the center of your being or you will lose all hope?  This became my mantra: “He didn’t do this to Cody.”

I need Scripture, lyrics, and deep-seated convictions ingrained in my head like my name or phone number.  They need to be part of my breath so when I can barely breathe, they are there filling my lungs.  Engraved on my heart.  Seared into my brain. Why? Because worries immediately turn into God’s words.  Into praise.  Into joy. 

Not joy because the situation changes or you force yourself to appear happy.  But joy as your soul desperately reaches out and grasps for something – and finds God and knows, at least for today, you aren’t going under.