Restless but rejoicing

     Long night for sweet Janie.  She is so restless--restless with the pain, restless with being tied down, restless with this ventilator down her throat, restless with being in this strange place of machines and unknown people walking in at all hours.  I have been in here with her all night and feel coiled and tight at her misery.  "Help her, Lord Jesus," I continually pray.  "Calm her, speak to her Good Shepherd."  I feel helpless to do anything to alleviate her suffering and her agitation.  Only her Heavenly Father can help her to endure this long, hard night and keep running this marathon.
     Her nurse tonight has the calmest, gentlest voice I've ever heard.  And she has such a sweet yet persistent way about her.  The Lord knew she would need such a nurse this night--thank You, Father.
     As I sat in the recliner around 2:30 this morning, wide awake, wanting to help my child and wishing I could take her pain, I felt myself complaining in my mind.  Wishing I could sleep.  Wishing I could help.  Wondering how exhausted Janie--and I--would be the next day.  Wondering if Janie could get off this ventilator that keeps her breathing but also keeps her miserable.
     And as I lay there in the darkness punctuated by blinking lights and activity outside her room,  the Lord gently reminded me: "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say rejoice." (Phil 4:4).  Forgive me for not rejoicing in all things, Lord, I prayed.  Thank You for this hospital and these machines and these nurses that are helping to save her life.  Thank You for all the prayers You have answered and all the obstacles You have enabled Janie to overcome.  Thank You for all our friends and family who have done, well, simply everything.  Thank You for all the people praying for Janie and for us--we are so undeserving and so grateful.  Grace.  Thank You for Your presence in this place--always, always.  Thank You that we are in Chapel Hill and close to home.  Thank You for home--both in this world and the next. Thank You for the priceless gift of our other four children who, though scared and sad at times, have been praying and trusting You.  Thank You for Your Word and Your promises that have grown so much nearer and dearer to us through all of this--no longer something simply to study but our lifeline that breathes hope and strength and renews us when we start to flag or falter.
     I think of Paul as he wrote those familiar words in Philippians--chained, imprisoned, lonely and yet rejoicing.  How can we not rejoice, we who have been given so much?  Help us to look at all that the Father has given us and done for us and not at the little that we lack.  Complaining is so deadly and thanking is so refreshing.  And both are a choice.  A choice of the will to recall the blessings rather than to recount the woes.  Help us to rejoice in God--for in Him we have a continual feast--and in His myriad blessings.
     It's almost 5 a.m. and God has graciously calmed Janie and finally giving her rest.  Not so sure about me!... but He is my Rest and my hope, and so, Lord, I'm good!  Thank You for once again coming through.  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Phil.4:6-7)  And He does it again--answers prayer and gives His supernatural peace that guards my heart and mind like a vigilant sentinel.
     Lord, we can rest in You--because You've got it.  You've totally, completely got it.  And in You, we have all things... and we rejoice.
     To God, our source of rejoicing and hope and peace, be all the glory.