The Night Before

 Apologies this is out of order, but this was written in bed the night before the op. 

The evening before

 

It’s 12.40am.  Immi is lying beside me, listening to Philippa Hanna songs after our midnight feast of toast and jam before she goes ‘nil by mouth’ until the op.

 It’s been a precious evening, full of hugs and conversation.  We’ve dealt with fear head on and made plans for the future (watch out Naomi, its Maths GCSE next!) 

It’s been a long night and not one I would wish on anyone, but when the fight it bigger you find inner depths you never knew you had.  We’ve sung songs this evening, songs about about fighting, songs about overcoming, songs about getting up again (yes they ranges from Bethel, to Philippa Hanna to Trolls!) and I think she’s as ready as she could ever be for this fight of (and for) her life.  Here’s to seizure freedom.

It’s also felt like a stormy evening, as parents we’ve felt buffeted around; the op, a broken lock and room change, plus a myriad of other small things meant that we felt tossed around by the waves.  I’ve reflected before that id the disciples had truly understood who Jesus was and why he had come, then they wouldn’t have needed to wake him, they would have had peace that nothing was going to happen as his purpose had to be fulfilled (isn’t hindsight great?!) But this evening, I was challenged to go further and deeper.  I felt I was asked the question, “What is they had understood peace?  What if they had understood that they could lie down and sleep in the boat with him?”  The challenge continued; “You can rest in me.  You can rest through this. You are safe in this.  She is safe.”

So now I lie down in the proverbial boat with Jesus (it looks more like a camp bed in a hospital ward this time!) He may be asleep, he may be unfurling the sail, or he may be navigating.  It doesn’t matter.  He is there.  That is enough.