Learning

Okay, team, I'm figuring some things out. How to close up the hole in Grant's heart isn't one of them (argh!) and how to handle this with tons of grace (yet--give me some more time and I swear I'll get there) isn't another. But as I weave my way through these days, finding comfort in being quiet and still and aware, I feel more alive than ever. Raw alive but alive. And amazed. 

You see, I used to think that LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL because for the most part, things go well and careers eventually advance and weekends are fun and gummy bears are just $1. Sure, life is hard-ish every once in awhile, but hey, you're tough and you don't quit and things eventually straighten. 

But now I am thinking that LIFE IS HARD because diseases like cancer exist and car accidents happen and people who want to have children have trouble getting pregnant and work grants fall through and people are hungry around the world for no fault of their own. Dang it, life. Why do you have to challenge us like this?

And as I am suddenly and powerfully aware of the fact that EVERYONE goes through hard times and life often isn't fair and doesn't make sense, I am struck by the insane strength of the people around me. It's almost like everyone has learned this lesson already and I am just now catching on to this deeper layer of living. Just today, I ran into a mentor of mine going through a divorce, texted with a friend who just found out she didn't get the job she really really wanted, and got an email from a friend who has recently lost several close family members. Did they talk about all that? No. I just now see it. People around us are dealing with hard things--and they are enduring. Man, people are STRONG.

So how do you walk through THE HARD and come out the other side? Or at least keep walking? 

I'm learning the trick.

You lean on the love. 

For example, yesterday Clay and I took Grant to the cardiologist to see if the three holes in his heart were closing (they aren't). The minute we sat down to check in for the echocardiogram, the receptionist casually presented us with an insanely high bill. I struggled to hold back the tears, not because I was primarily concerned about the money but because once again I felt so out of control. Why were we HERE? How is this happening? How do I let go and be okay with this new path when every turn seems to hold some sort of disheartening, challenging surprise? 

Ding. A text from a dear friend: "There will always be days that hurt too much to breathe, days when you literally want to throw up the pain...but more and more, with time, there are also days of peace and a gritty joy that is beyond happiness."

Dang. How did she get so wise? Yup. Experience.

After getting the tests done and before the cardiologist came in to deliver his interpretation of them, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a video text from a friend in NYC, a friend I would never have met had Clay and I not taken THAT leap of faith and moved into the Columbia dorms for a year: "Hey Sara. Just thinking of you and saying hi. We love you."

One more.

The cardiologist comes in and doesn't have any encouraging report to give, and then he tells us that we may be coming to him regularly for the rest of Grant's life. Awesome. I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but REALLY? Can't I just enjoy my baby? Can we please get him healthy? 

Then my husband reaches for my hand, rubs Grant's belly, and loves me through that tough moment. 

LIFE IS HARD. IT'S THE PEOPLE THAT ARE BEAUTIFUL.

Thank God we have each other as we each strive to navigate this crazy thing called life.

I've always liked Corinthians 13:4-7, but I've never REALLY paid attention to the specific words Paul writes about love until now. Way to go, Paul. Good diction here, buddy. Your word choice is DEAD ON. Because this love that I have felt from you all AND this love that I feel for Grant is first and foremost patient. It allows me to just BE, it allows Grant to just BE, it waits and holds on and understands. This love is also kind, especially in the face of pain and fear and uncertainty. And as Clay and I seek to protect our boys, we trust and hope that at the end of the day, we are more than okay. We trust that love will persevere, that in the midst of fear and difference and anxiety that this life introduces to everyone at different times and in different ways, LOVE WILL WIN. It will never fail.

A mother of a child with DS told me a couple weeks ago that I should choose a mantra to repeat to myself over and over again, especially when I think a tough thought or see a tough video or read a tough report on DS. She said she covered the inside of her car with post-it notes with her mantra: Hold on. I've got a few that have helped me: Keep going, friend. Believe. Love is patient. Love wins.

Last thought: I told my dad the other day that I am struggling to just see GRANT--that I look at him and see Grant AND Down Syndrome.

"Sara," he said, "you need to start seeing 'AMAZING' written across his forehead."

Love it, Dad. Thank you.

Love to you all always.