It is late and my house is quiet. The cowboys are safely (and dare I say happily?) sleeping over with friends. Abby Dog is resting by my feet. On any other night, I would feel content.
Tonight, though, I am a tornado of emotions and anxiety and fear. When I wake up in the morning, I will shower and head to the hospital. I will walk the now-familiar halls down to the surgical wing. I will kiss my husband, hug my parents, wave to our friends, and bravely--I hope--go back to the operating room.
This summer, particularly these last few weeks, has been so hard. It seems that even when I try to stand very still, the world continues to crumble around me. My best efforts to hold it all together have failed miserably. I have witnessed so much suffering, not the least of which is my own. The pain and loss that I feel is nearly unbearable. Nearly.
And just when I am teetering on the edge, literally fearing for my life, my Jesus calls out to me. He reminds me of his goodness. He reminds me that I don't have to be scared. He reminds me that he goes with me and that he loves me.
You alone, Lord, are enough. Thank you for holding me close tonight. May my weakness be perfected in your strength.