Lifting our Heads

     Woke up feeling sort of worn and weary this morning--like one of those old, tattered tee shirts Janie loves to wear.  By the way, this is one of the happy mysteries of our precious daughter: why on earth does she love to wear giant, battered old tee shirts?  I'm always a bit concerned that people must wonder if her parents refuse to buy her new shirts that actually fit her.  Sigh.  Sometimes as a parent you have to daily die a thousand small deaths, one of them being to your pride (which  we need to be dying to anyway).  Just for the record, if anyone is reading this, Janie does in fact have clothes that fit her and look relatively nice and new.  But it's also one of the things I adore about her--she just truly doesn't care.  Thank You for reminding me, Lord.
     Yesterday was a great day in many ways--Janie continuing to obey commands when she is awake and giving that O-so beautiful "thumbs up" sign.  But it was terribly hard watching her struggle mightily against that breathing tube--gagging and looking desperate and trying to pull up in bed but held down by tubes and wires.  "Help her, Father," I whisper frantically.  "Calm her, quiet her with Your love.  Help her to sense Your presence and Your strength." How I wished I could take her place on that bed, but we were powerless to do much except gently talk to her and tell her we were right there with her and she was okay.  But, boy, I felt knotted and tightly strung at my inability to free her and help her.  Father, we must hand this hard place to You too and trust that You've got her; You're holding her.  Help us to keep praying and trusting in our never-failing Father.
     Yet, incredibly as I stumbled to the kitchen for some hot tea and then to the Word for my real sustenance, once again God started to breathe life into this threadbare mama. Do I sound like a broken-record?  Weary, struggling, sorrowful and then God once again rushes in to sustain and strengthen and encourage and lift my head from looking around at my circumstances and up to my Savior, my Lamb of God, my Lion of Judah, my Living Water, my Bread of Life, my Light.
     And everything changes... well, not the circumstances, but me.  He enables the downhearted mama to once again rise from the ashes to new hope, new joy, new patience, new love.  To be able to enter the fray once more and continue to trust and know that He will give all of us, and Janie, what we need today, this day.  Thank You for the gift of this day, Lord and the knowledge that You will walk with us in it every single step of the way.
     "From the ends of the earth I call to You, I call as my heart grows faint;  lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.  For You have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe."  Ps61:2-3
     Thank You, Lord, for being our refuge, our Rock, and our strong tower against the foe of brain injury and discouragement and exhaustion.  And for all who might be reading this, would You remind them that You are their ever-faithful Refuge and Rock and Strong Tower.  Might they run to You, knowing that You will never fail them and will breathe new life into their tired or downhearted hearts.  Help us to live on the heights with You even as we sometimes have to struggle along in life's depths--just as our Savior did, for we love and follow Him.  The darker the night, the brighter the stars--and You made them all and know them each by name... just as You do with us.  We love You, Lord, our Strong Strong, Strong Tower.
     To our never-ever-failing God who lifts our heads and lightens our hearts, be all the glory.