Originally posted on September of 2014
It's sitting in the back of my SUV. The image of
it is stuck in my head. A medical device that looks like a cross between a
walker and a wheelchair.
Birthdays are supposed to be happy. Why am I struggling? Landrey turns two on Sunday but it was easier in my mind to understand why she can't crawl, balance, pull up or walk when I say she's the age of 1. When you say "2", an entirely different image of a child pops into your head, not mine.
I was so excited to get this walking contraption for her, but putting her in it in my house screams to me..."something is wrong with your child." I live in a world where I talk all about Landrey almost all of the time, but yet part of me never truly comes to terms with the fact that my life won't be normal for a time undetermined. I still have days where I don't fully understand His purpose. "God, she can't hold her bottle. I can't put her down in public because she can't stand. I have a perpetual baby."
I was chosen for this. But sometimes my mind says, "I was chosen for this?"
Isn't that how we all are?
A challenge either emotional or physical that we are aware of, but at the same time we push it off and pretend that emotion isn't crippling us.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Luke 12:6-7)
Birthdays are supposed to be happy. Why am I struggling? Landrey turns two on Sunday but it was easier in my mind to understand why she can't crawl, balance, pull up or walk when I say she's the age of 1. When you say "2", an entirely different image of a child pops into your head, not mine.
I was so excited to get this walking contraption for her, but putting her in it in my house screams to me..."something is wrong with your child." I live in a world where I talk all about Landrey almost all of the time, but yet part of me never truly comes to terms with the fact that my life won't be normal for a time undetermined. I still have days where I don't fully understand His purpose. "God, she can't hold her bottle. I can't put her down in public because she can't stand. I have a perpetual baby."
I was chosen for this. But sometimes my mind says, "I was chosen for this?"
Isn't that how we all are?
A challenge either emotional or physical that we are aware of, but at the same time we push it off and pretend that emotion isn't crippling us.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Luke 12:6-7)
That verse was in my devotional today. God knows. He really knows. He sees Landrey. He knows she can't do anything without me. He knows I can't do anything without Him. I was chosen for this war.
You were chosen. What's that battle you face daily? What's that area in your life where you feel God is ignoring. What's that area of your life that makes you question His existence at all.
This life isn't merely a path, it's a war. Every day is a battle. Every day you must be armed. You can't take fear into war. Discouraged soldiers don't win.
"We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed" (II Corinthians 4:8-9)
I often wonder what the purpose of Landreys harder journey is. For my older daughter Kourtney, every single physical and mental milestone has been so easy and seamless. For Landrey, you hold her legs in the right position. She screams if she doesn't understand. You continue. "Walk Landrey. Step. Use your feet." Day in day out, over and over and over. Her physical therapist reminds me to be patient. That she's missed her window for natural instinct. We have to teach her brain much like someone who's re-learning how to walk after a car accident. The greater challenge, we can't communicate with her yet. "Push down. Bend your knee. That's your knee. Bend. Up. Step. Come on, Landrey." Then one day she moves her little stiff leg a half inch on her own.
We still have miles to go. Landrey's life is a reminder that God is real. He works miracles. He cares. He cares about a tiny hand that can't seem to grasp to balance a bottle.
Sunday, she will be 2. A dear friend texted me just now and said, "There were a few times we weren't sure we would see this 2nd birthday."
God's timing is far different than ours. Landrey isn't lining up with the milestone charts. Maybe your life isn't lining up with the world's timeline of success or fulfillment. You're not forgotten. He is your source. He is whispering in your ear, "Step. That's right. Come on. You can do this. Hold my hand. Hold it. Okay, now other leg. Good job. Keep going. I'm so proud of you. I love you."
Fight on, soldiers. Happy Birthday Landrey. Your life drives us to lean on Him and is a magnificent showcase of His power.
The second year of Landrey's life would be a war. She battled 10-20 critical illnesses with multiple hospital stays. She survived going septic. By 2 /12 years old, she began to have seizures. She was diagnosed with epilepsy. Her blood chemistry kept showing abnormal numbers. Eventually immunology would diagnose her with an immune deficiency, causing her to battling frequent illnesses and have challenges fighting them off.
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