Hope and Faith

 

And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. New Romans 5:5 

Five years ago, my daughter came home from a cruise and couldn’t shake her sea legs. Vertigo turned into severe fatigue, tremors, mental confusion, and difficulty standing and walking normally. She went from leading an independent life as a single, working mom who had just invested in her first condominium to needing to move back in with us while she took extended medical leave. We struggled to get a diagnosis locally and decided to take her to Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville with the hope that they would diagnose and treat her. Two days after arriving at Mayo, our hope was tested when she received a life-changing diagnosis of moyamoya, a rare, progressive and incurable disease that can cause transient ischemic attacks (TIAs), strokes, seizures, tremors, movement disorders, cognitive impairment, headaches and other neurological symptoms. 

Despite the diagnosis our hope lived strong. God had opened the door to a diagnosis; surely, He would open the door to healing. Brain surgery was the intervention that the internet revealed would allow her to lead a “normal” life. We went into our first surgery with high hopes fueled by prayers from around the world. Five years later, my daughter has been hospitalized 17 times, had four minor and five major surgical procedures including two brain surgeries. She is scheduled for a 10th surgery next month. 

There is a cumulative pressure that builds when life expectations go unmet. The “whys” become loud; the disappointments gain power; pain grows with each unanswered prayer. As time passes, it feels easier to guard our hearts from hope, than live with unmet requests. 

This past year has proven to be one of my daughter’s most challenging. She has been struggling with uncontrolled pain, hospitalized three times for breathing issues and is fighting a chronic infection. The rollercoaster ride has been steep and deep. Each visit to the hospital began with hope. As specialist after specialist indicated they did not hold the expertise my daughter needed to safely treat her, each departure left us feeling hopeless and hurting. Pain is a powerful motivator, but it doesn’t always lead us in the right direction. At some point over the last year, I stuffed hope in a drawer thinking my load would be lighter. 

But that action has not served me well. Hope is where Faith begins; Faith is where our strength to endure lives. When I put my hope away, I picked up disappointment, frustration and anger. In trying to lighten my load, I ended up increasing my burden. 

It is hard to unlearn a response driven by pain, but I am working on it. I am scattering seeds of hope each day through daily prayer and gratitude. I am watering those seeds by looking for God’s miracles. I am fertilizing them with the assurance that God’s love for my daughter exceeds my own.