Helpless

Sometimes, without even knowing it, children can be very insightful. This weekend I took Zack to see Inny (this is what he has called my sister since he was very little). Zack knows that Inny has an owie on her belly and that's why she is in the hospital. While we were there he said to me:

"Inny has an owie on her belly... but I can't see it."

This is very much how I feel about my sister's recovery right now. Somewhere, Lindsay has an owie. I can't see it but it is still there. Still just as real as the one running up her stomach or the three on her arm.

Lindsay has been struggling for the past week. Trying so hard to fight against the depression and the anxiety that one feels when trying so hard to get better and yet continuing to feel pain. She wants to see improvements and while we can look back and see how far she has come, for her there is still just pain and daily struggle.

There's a part of me that wants to jump in there and tell her to get over it. Be grateful to be alive and be so thankful that God is not finished with her yet.

Then there is the other part of me that knows that doing that is not going to help her. I too have spent time in my own personal hell and no amount of screaming from the outside can get through to you until you are ready to fight for your life.

As I was waiting for the elevator after visiting her at noon I heard a woman on the phone. She was talking about God's plan. "I have my schedule in my head of how this should go and how I want it to go but in the end only God knows how it will go." A lot of times I think I loose sight of that. I am not in control.

As much as I want to get in there and fix her, make her walk, make her eat I can't. She has to do that for herself, in her own time and in God's own time. He saw fit to let her live through this and has brought her this far, he will bring her through it and my only job at this point is to support her.

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And run clear across town for Chicken Noodle Soup when she needs it.