I mentioned that one of the books that I read recently was 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper. (Sadly I still have not figured out to underline titles within the text of my blog. Ahhh.)
I really enjoyed this book. I highly recommend it if you have not already read it. I am happy to loan my copy to anyone who would like to read it. I have marked several pages to revisit later.
Here's what I learned about myself and this process after reading this book:
1. NEVER underestimate the power of prayer. Thousands upon thousands of prayers were said on Jeremy's behalf and also for our family. I do not believe that your prayers and my prayers were in vain, they just didn't align with God's will for Jeremy. I have witnessed miracles within this tragedy. I have witnessed other miracles happening around us in the PICU. I still pray every day, all the time.
2. I am amazed at the number of people that God used along this journey. Sometimes I wish I could physically count each and every one. I can only imgaine what that number must be. I wish we could gather together in one place. I imagine about how amazing that would feel to see you all, our Prayer Warriors.
2. "some things happen to us from which we will NEVER recover, and they disrupt the normalcy of our lives. That's how life is. Human nature has a tendency to try and reconstruct old ways and pick up where we left off. If we're wise we won't continue to go back to the way things were (we can't anyway). We must instead forget the old standard and accept a "new normal."
I have wasted so much time since Jeremy died thinking about the way things ought to be. I ought to have four kids here on earth. I ought to be able to tell the world that Jeremy was healed. I ought to be able to put away the baby stuff when Jeremy grew out of it and didn't need it anymore. I'm not ready now. . . (There's way too many to list here) These thoughts rob me of enjoying the moments that I have been blessed to have today. It's like you can only enjoy something to a certain point. For example, when I go to school with my youngest child and marvel at his eyes discovering new things. It's almost like you can see them thinking at this age. Then it starts, I start crying because I know I will never experience this moment with Jeremy. There it is, the rest of the joy. . . well it's trapped with Jeremy. That piece of my heart is with him and it will be forever I suppose.
I need to adjust and accept the way things are and the way things are going to be. They won't change no matter how many tears I cry. I just don't know who I am anymore. There is no way I could have ever returned to the ways things were even if Jeremy had survived this ordeal. But he didn't . . . I am left here wondering where to put my feet down next. I suppose this is a painful process to watch if you are a family member or a friend of someone going through grief. Who knows what will happen, who I will become, but I just hope it is something good.
These " I ought to moments" remind me of the very things that most of us take for granted every day, things that can be taken from us permanently and suddenly, and leave us forever changed.
One a different topic. Please pray for friends of ours, a little guy named Christopher. His sister passed away this summer and now he too is facing some pretty serious health problems. I talked with his Dad today and he has been scheduled for surgery early next week. Please keep his parents in your prayers. These are real tough times for this family.
While we are praying. . . here's a few more requests:
We were fortunate to meet several AMAZING families at the hospital. We will forever feel a connection and a bond to these folks. We are so grateful that they have continued to stay in touch with us and have reached out to us to help us out along this journey. These children are home but are not always without challenge, pain, and difficult times. Please pray for their continued healing and strength.
Many things have left a mark on my soul. I am continually in awe of the medical staff that cared for my sweet Jeremy. I amazed how every day people that you might otherwise meet on the street, are the very people that walk the line of miracles and tragedy every day. They must be affected in big and small ways by what they see and encounter during their hours spent with their patients. Yet, at the completion of each child's journey, however it turns out, they get up and do it all over again. They do it with all the love and compassion that you could ever want for your child. If any of you are reading this , you have my deepest admiration.
I pray that people know the tremendous impact it has on one's life when people take the time to reach out and lend a hand, a shoulder, or their hearts. I feel loved in a way I thought was never possible. I pray that each and every angel on earth knows the depth of my gratitude. I pray that together we can impact someone else's life too!
Selfishly I ask for your prayers for myself. I am haunted by the images of the hospital. Lately, I struggle daily with reliving those moments over, and over, and over, and the feelings that came with them.
With the Most Grateful Heart,
Amy
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