my sweet mia girl was up most of the night with what seems to be a stomach bug. i laid awake most of the night. part of it with a towel draped over me and her on my chest. listening to her sweet breathing. just barely drifting off to sleep, only to wake up at her smallest move.
the other part of the night, when i was finally able to lay her down in her crib, i laid in my bed listening to the monitor. every noise, wondering if i was going to have to get up to change sheets or change pj's. hoping she was ok.
i would have done more. i would have sat near her bed and watched her sleep all night if i thought it would make her feel better. i would have done anything.
and yet this was a small, small fragment of what some people have to go through for their sick children. it doesn't escape me that i am fortunate, that she is a healthy little girl. super active. always happy.
a few months ago i took her to the ER. she wasn't doing well and we couldn't figure out why. they put a hospital gown on her and had to do a cathetar. i had to leave the room. it was too hard to see.
later that night, i was able to scoop her up and walk out of the hospital with her in my arms. i remember clearly, looking up at the huge building of the childrens hospital with lit up windows covering each floor. My heart both ached for the sweet children inside, and overflowed with gratitude for the one in my arms.
many people email me about telling my story. how they are encouraged and inspired. im happy for that. but a few have said that in my telling my story, they searched for their own. their own struggle or testimony or trial to tell. not finding one, they felt discouraged.
here's the thing. i wouldn't wish my story on anyone. i tell it out of triumph and joy that came through trial and sorrow. i tell it because it tells of God's goodness and glory. that is why i tell it. i don't want people to see the pain and the sorrow i've walked through when they see me, but the joy and the blessing that i walk in now.
i had a little guilt over getting so emotional about mia's small bit of sickness lastnight. i get to watch her get better, i get to see her smile and climb everything in sight. but some moms don't. some moms have to watch their kids continue to suffer.
that is not my story. thankfully.
and thankfully my story is not theirs
and your story is not mine.
we each have our battles, we each have our triumphs and joys. struggles and tragedy. small or big. but we each have them.
the important thing is that we tell them. we share. we love through them and allow others to be inspired or encouraged through them.
not for us. not for our glory or recognition.
not to compare or to not feel validated or good enough.
not for any of that, but only to tell God's story. Of love. Of redemption. Of grace and mercy and a perfect plan.
Keeping our stories to ourselves because we think they aren't big enough, robs others from being spoken to through it.
you haven't walked through something tragic, lost a child, or battled a sickness. it doesn't make you less or even more than those who have. you have lived. you breath, you laugh, you mother, you father, you love, you work, your a sister, or a son. those are stories to be told because God has given them to you.
holding mia close lastnight, i thought about the sacrifice that God gave us in his son, Jesus. He was born to us, so that he could save us.
that is the ultimate story. God's love for us. His sacrifice so that we could live freely and fully.
It's your story and it's mine.