He Reminds Me

  

Libby had treatment this past Monday. I asked her, as we were getting in the car, if she was ready to go see the doctor. She gave me a big smile and said yesssss. She greeted the receptionist at the clinic by blowing her a ridiculous number of kisses. Just like always. We sat down, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace, patted my back, and began to laugh uncontrollably. And I began to laugh uncontrollably.  The waiting room was packed, and I could feel everyone looking at us. I almost whispered in her little ear we needed to be quiet, that people probably didn’t feel well, that we were being loud and disruptive. But I didn’t. Because when I pulled back from our cuddle and looked up, everyone in the room was smiling. And because I was reminded that this was not the picture I had in my mind when I was told my daughter had leukemia, and we would have weekly clinic trips to get chemo.  This was not what I had pictured at all. God reminded me that He is so very near.

I drove home from the hospital so thankful, and a little in awe.  Amazed by how easy this very difficult journey has been for us so far. We definitely have tough days. Libby was in the ER the weekend before. She was vomiting, and she had a fever, and off we went. But even in those moments, He reminds me. We pray, and you pray, and we trust. He brings her home. And in no time, she’s tackling her sister, dancing to the music in the car, laughing with her cousin. He reminds me. How much He loves us. How present He is.  How sufficient His grace truly is. 

I’m thankful for His reminders. He must know I need them. It’s easy to get bogged down on any given day with my own thoughts. Sometimes I give into my own thoughts-about the looming appointments, the IVIG she’ll get in another week or so (the one that sends us to the ER every time), the “delayed intensification” phase that we’ll begin at the very start of the holidays- and I’ll start to feel discouraged. That’s when Libby decides to put her spoon down at lunch, stretch out her arms in her highchair mid-meal, pull me in for a big squeeze, and laugh. He reminds me. He reminds me that these pictures in my mind are just my fabrications. He’s designed the masterpiece. And it’s magnificent.