Do You Want To See My Wonderful Day?

We were sitting in the car yesterday, and Lydia's favorite Disney Junior show came on the satellite tv. She always sings the theme song and it's the most adorable thing you've ever heard. When she didn't start to sing, I looked back at her and asked what show was coming on. Then I realized why she wasn't singing. She was blankly staring to the side, and I felt my heart sink. It was several more seconds talking to her, waiting for the seizure to end before she finally came out of it and heard my voice. She paused and looked up at me, then heard the tv and started smiling and singing.

It had been a year and a half since I had to watch her go through these seizures. Her medication has worked so well, and if it weren't for the strict morning and night pill regimen, it would be easy to forget her epilepsy. We were only six months out from her two year mark when the neurologist could start titrating  her off the meds. I was so hopeful that God would heal her by then. We could put this whole nightmare behind us, and make epilepsy a distant memory. I told God how loud and how high I would praise His name and testify of His healing in her life.

After a recent growth spurt, Lydia started to seem less focused, and I wondered. I prayed it not to be true, and held on to hope. Last week at the dinner table, we opened our eyes from prayer, and Lydia had that old familiar stare. I had to say her name four times over before she came out of it and looked at me. I knew then I couldn't question it anymore. And it was so sad.

I have no doubt that He can heal her. But setbacks sometimes make me wonder if hope hurts more than it helps. That if I just accept that this is the way things are, the disappointment will hurt less. We've prayed over allergy tests that still come back positive, EEGs that show abnormal brain waves, asthma symptoms that still cause scary attacks at 3am.

Then God reminds me again of His faithfulness. I'm closer to Him now than ever before. Our family was thrust into a torrent of fear and helplessness three years ago, and it was more than we could handle on our own. Jesus was there to hold us up, and it was in the darkest of days that I have felt Him the closest. Jesus doesn't ask us to sit safely on the beach, building our pretty sand castles. He wants us to walk out to Him in the deepest of waters, to believe with unwavering trust. It's where our feet can't reach the bottom that faith is made stronger.

Lydia crawled into our bed early this morning, snuggling up close to me. While I held her, praying through tears in the dark for her healing, Hillsong's Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) came over the radio. He reminded me again that He's with us in these deep waters. The future may be unknown, but He's proven that He won't fail. He keeps us above the waves, even when faith wavers.

And when Peter had come out of the boat, he walked on the water to go to Jesus. But when he saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid;

and beginning to sink, he cried out, saying, "Lord, save me!"

And immediately

immediately!

Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him.  ~Matthew 14:29-31

This morning's sunrise. 

Lydia asked me over breakfast this morning, "Do you want to see my wonderful day?" My three year old's sweet words remind me again. He has given us this gift of a wonderful day, full of available joy.