Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Dear Glennon, God and You, Readers of my Blog

This post was originally an email sent to Glennon of Momastary
After clicking send, I realized it might help make my last post, and most likely future posts, more comprehensible. 
And if you haven't met Glennon, you must. 


Dear you -reader of this blog, this post, my words.

I don't even know where to begin, the last week and a half seems like a mystery complete in it's bizarre cast of characters as much as it seems to be a "whole picture" perspective of the last three years. While I long to share every last morsel of emotion, every last detail of the timeline, I also long for privacy in this time of challenge.

You see, there's this amazing lady named Glennon, she writes amazing words about ordinary and not-so-ordinary things... And she says brutiful. Beautiful and brutal. Makes sense enough, doesn't it?
Brutiful. That's it. Seems simples enough. But it's not. You see, my family and I didn't "get it" totally until two weeks ago Sunday. We've been fighting Lymes Disease. By we, I mean, my dad's infected and there are five kids and their three spouses, and one wife all wrapped up in helping him get through this evil debilitating disease. His memory shot, his words muddled, and his heart motivated, we fought. Until the meds wreaked havoc in his mind and he lost control of his body. Police and paramedics came. Four days and three nights in the hospital later and we get brutiful. That place where the devil sneaks in, does his damage and, yet, God prevails in His night in shiny armor way. Brutiful, we get it.

After asking WHAT IN THE HELL JUST HAPPENED? forty times, we realized that God turned our heads in a new direction, slapped us on the butt and said, "Go get 'em slugger." And now we stand over home plate hoping to hit the fastballs and curveballs that life's so damn good at. Unfortunately, none of us were big baseball fans, much less players, and all feels so overwhelmingly glorious. Like we've been given an opportunity by God that's entirely out of our league and simultaneously perfectly tailored to our strengths and skills. -How does He manage that? He's so darn good at that too-much-and-just-enough thing.

Here we all sit, in the wake of tragedy, trauma, bruty and we wave our WTF flags furiously about and yelp for God's attention, for His answers. We laugh. We cry. And we fist pump with an almighty AMEN! We turn to one another and ask, "How in the world did we end up here?" Yet, we thank Him for every change, every bit of wonderment and confusion and love and frustration.

Mostly I want you to know that love wins (not my original words, but those of God and, so aptly put, by Glennon as well). The nurses, the doctors, the emergency room staff... They all knew my father and my Father are loved. Every single person who came into my dad's room knew that there was something special about him. They felt Him in the room with us. In a beautiful, brutiful way. Bringing dad home, refusing the meds to kill the Lymes that were poisoning him, and instead of pumping him full of chemicals we are choosing to enjoy the love we have for my dad - as daughters and sons and a wife - oh, how brutiful. Love wins has become our mantra. So much so we're getting it etched into our skin just below our hearts at a tattoo parlor on Friday. We believe it. Because Glennon and God said it, He proved it, and we get it.

Love wins. Always.

amber

fellow monkee
love lover
lymes hater

3 comments:

  1. Those two words would make a great tattoo!

    Love Wins

    ReplyDelete
  2. Amber,

    Your family has been going through such a rough trial, and my heart weeps for you. To the extent that you find something positive in it all, or that your relationship with Him and with your family is more honest and genuine, I rejoice with you. Tiffany and I are keeping you in prayer.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Love definitely wins during this brutiful time in your lives.
    You are always in my prayers x

    ReplyDelete

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