Be patient my child.

Four little words that held me through the miscarriage of our first child, to our daughter’s open-heart surgery, to finally bringing her home at a month old. I still remember God telling me these sweet and much-needed words of affirmation in what seemed like the rockiest journey my family would navigate. Be patient my child. I was His and His timing is perfect even when I struggle to see past the cloud of heaviness surrounding me.

Fast forward four-and-a-half years. These words still resound in my heart. Last winter, my husband was in a horrific car accident. Miles was hit by a stolen vehicle traveling around 140mph. He was ejected and suffered what should have been fatal injuries. Miles was flown to the nearest trauma center with so many unknowns of survival or deficits. But by the grace of God, a provider of miracles, he survived with minimal long-term complications.

December 20th marks the one-year anniversary of the accident. This past year has been filled with a vast spectrum of emotions from joy to heartache. Times of laughter and hours when only tears were possible. There have been moments of complete clarity and moments that the heaviness seemed all-encompassing. The journey is far from over and it can be so overwhelming.

There is the mom guilt of being with your husband while you know your children need you. Then the wife guilt of going home to be with those precious babes while knowing you also need to be at your husband’s side. I’ve cried and laughed with family during transitions. I’ve watched my husband regain control of his body. I’ve laughed with nurses while they administered medication. I was there when he didn’t remember who I was and as he struggled to make connections again. I’ve helped him shower and get dressed when his mobility was limited. I’ve carted around a wheelchair, a knee scooter, and bathroom chairs. I’ve rearranged our house when stairs weren’t an option. I’ve been in and out of therapy and doctor appointments discussing next steps. I’ve signed insurance paperwork and sorted bills. I’ve rocked my crying daughter to sleep because she misses Daddy and reassured my son that Daddy is sick, but getting better. I have let my house fall into a disaster zone as life happens and then clean like a mad woman because the clutter has me at my wit’s end. I’ve planned for a ramp outside of the house that took up half our driveway and cheered when it was removed. I’ve driven the interstate more times than I cared for. There have been endless days of caring for the family, trying to keep up on housework, navigating doctor’s appointments and work, and trying to keep my sanity.

It could be a vicious cycle. Instead, it has been a winding road illuminated with God’s love and grace.

Be patient my child. He has never left my side.

The days that have seemed the hardest, God has held me close. The days I am not sure I can keep up with the chaos, He has placed family, friends, doctors, nurses, and strangers in my life to help me push through. Our journeys are not over in an instant; they take time. These moments build our character. They shape our prospective and make us stronger on the other side.

Be patient through the storm. When you break through the clouds, His promises will be revealed.