Surrounded.

I have been in the pit before. I am not new to heartache and grief. The valley is isolating, dark, and you grasp frantically at any glimmer of light. Praying for relief from the voice inside telling you to give in to the despair. My firm foundation in God and my faith was built in the pit. Without darkness you can’t appreciate the light, God gives hope, and He speaks light into the darkness. These aren’t just some cliche sayings, I have found them to be truth that I can stand on. The heartache and grief are still present, but so is God. When I can’t see through the storm, my God whispers quietly and I know He is here. Every dark valley I have experienced was a stepping stone to understanding more of who God is. Because of the valleys of the past I can stand with faith for today.

I believe kids are resilient; however, I don’t believe it’s because they don’t feel all of the emotions life brings. I believe it’s because they don’t have the ability to process these feelings. The emotions are present, the heartache, the anxiety, they just don’t know how to put these feelings into words. Sunday (November 6th) was the first time since surgery (Tuesday October 26th) that I took a day off from the hospital and spent the whole day with the kids. Up until then it was one endless sleepover with their grandparents. Each night I would come home to a dark, empty house to sleep, only to wake and start the day the same way all over again. It was time for the kids and I to be together for a day of normalcy. The kids are starting to feel the weight of the situation, starting to wonder why Daddy isn’t home, and when will they see Daddy again?

There is no timeline and trying to explain that to the kids is challenging. Although this came as a surprise to us, I find comfort in knowing this wasn’t a surprise to God. I look back at our year and on our spontaneous decision to buy a camper in March in hopes of cultivating intentional once a month family time. This wasn’t coincidental. It was the Lord providing priceless memories for our family to reflect on while in this season of heartache. How we got the camper is it’s own WAY-MAKER story. Deciding to enroll our son in school this year after homeschooling him for the last two years was God’s provision and wisdom. Our son thrives on routine and schedule. School is giving him that and God knew. I am holding onto these provisions of the past to lead me through the unknowns of today. I don’t need to see the way in order to believe the way is already made that is what faith is for.

Discharge is scheduled for today (November 9th)!! He will be transported to the rehabilitation facility in an ambulance. The rehab facility has a unit specifically designed for brain injury and trauma. While he is there they will work with Brock’s memory and cognitive thinking. Here is an example from this weekend of Brock’s current memory:

He called me on Sunday while I was home with the kids;

Brock:“Where are you?”

Me:“ I took the kids out to eat for dinner.”

Brock: “Why didn’t you invite me?’

Me: “You are in the hospital and can’t leave…”

Brock: (completely shocked) “ I am not in the hospital, I am at a friends house!”

There is no understanding of his current whereabouts, the nurse does a neuro evaluation every couple of hours and asks him “where he is” and his answers are always surprising. Brock can look around the room and still with confidence say he is in Philly, on a yacht, at home, at the office, really anywhere but the hospital. There is no recognition of the here and now.

Rehabilitation can take anywhere from 1-4 weeks. Each person is different and a timeline is nonexistent, so regardless of how much I beg for clarity and statistics there are none. Discharge from the hospital to rehab will give the kids and I a more ‘normal’ schedule. There are limited visiting hours, meaning I won’t have to be torn between being home with our kids or spending time with Brock. I am anxious to give the kids more consistency each day. Rehab is not the last stop, so after rehab I was told to prepare for having a 'home health aid’ come and assist him at home. The Doctor told me today to carve out time for myself while Brock is in rehab, because when he comes home it will be a lot of work even with the help of an aid.

The journey is far from over and I have to take it one day at a time. I have confidence and sorrow, hope and disappointment. My heart wrestles between these feelings. Mark Vroegop explains it best, “Lament stands in the gap between pain and promise … the honest cry of hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.” A friend reminded of the story of Moses in Exodus 17, the Israelites were in the middle of a battle and as long as Moses kept is arms lifted toward the Lord they had victory over their enemy. When Moses was too tired to hold his arms up, family stood by him and held up his arms for him. Isreal defeated their enemy and saw a victory. To whoever is reading this, you are my supporters. Like Moses you are holding up my arms to the Lord on the days I feel too tired. I am humbled by the army of people prayerfully walking alongside us. Thank you!

How can you join us in prayer? For Brock’s sodium levels to stabilize, memory to be regained, and for him to be home in time for Christmas. Continued strength for myself as I lament. For peace and comfort to be my shield. For the kids, they are hurting and missing their Daddy. Let their hurt be replaced with confidence and joy.

Praise: Brock was able to walk without a walker and stand on one foot for 10 seconds, he is still a little unsteady on his feet but this was a huge step.