Posts Tagged ‘Health’
“I wanna-wanna do it by my own self,” she tells me in her two-year-old speak.
They wanna-wanna do it by their own selves. They are “big” now. Too big for help. Too big for snuggles when there is playing to be done. Too big for sitting with Mama and counting fingers and toes. They wanna-wanna count by their own selves, because they can finish faster. Counting goes faster when you skip numbers.
And then the fevers start, and the tummies ache, and there is fear and confusion, and the hot little foreheads and red eyes don’t wanna-wanna do it by their own selves anymore. The soft, hot arms reach out to find Mama. The little voice cracks in its feverish stupor as it whispers, “Don’t leave me, Mama.” The little legs stumble over to a Mama resting within arm’s reach and a frightened voice says, “You’re too far away. I wanna-wanna sleep by you.”
And I wrap Mama arms around hot bodies and lie awake listening as their thick breath slows into sweet, healing sleep. And I stay, knowing I am comfort.
Perhaps this is why God allows, some say causes, sickness in our own lives. Perhaps we are counting too fast, skipping numbers. Perhaps God knows what it is we need, regardless of what we wanna-wanna. Perhaps He knows we need to stumble to the God within arm’s reach and say, “You’re too far away. I wanna-wanna have you in my heart, always on my mind, and forever in my view leading the way.” Perhaps He knows we need the feverish forehead, the weakness, the pain, the fear, the dying to open our voices to whisper, cry, shout, “Don’t leave me, Abba. I can’t do this by my own self.” Perhaps He knows it will take a crushing blow to stop the speed-counting and turn our hearts, minds and lives toward Him.
And He wraps God arms around hot bodies and lies awake listening as our thick breath slows into sweet, healing sleep. And He stays, knowing that He is Comfort, He is Life, He is All.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
~II Corinthians 1:3-4
When the nurse takes your child away, the child you have borne, nursed, tended, and loved, there is an emptiness and you turn to the only place worth turning.
When the doctor tells you that all is indeed not right, that your fears were not the imaginings of a hypochondriac mother, but in fact correct, there is an emptiness, and you turn to the only place worth turning.
When you turn to God, the perspective changes. What is pain becomes joy. What is loss becomes opportunity. What is lifeless clay, dead wood, or hard stone becomes beauty with purpose.
I see now that the child I was gently trying to shape with education, family time, Bible readings, and chats, is in the only place worth being, in the hands of the Master. My careful designing, delicate sanding, gentle rubbing are all acts of a mother without the Master’s vision. A wimp. A dreamer. A woman afraid.
The Master takes the clay and breaks it down and builds it back up until the day it is ready for His delicate design.
The Master takes the wood and hews large chunks, chiseling away the dead wood until it is ready for fine sanding.
The Master takes the stone and attacks it with a vengeance, bringing forth form from stubborn stone, until it is ready to be polished by the rubbing of the Master’s hand.
Such transformation can only succeed in His hands, in the hands of the Master.
The Master knows when to force and when to touch gently, when to chisel and when to sand, when to cut and when to rub smooth.
As a mother, I let my children fall, so that they may pull themselves up and walk. I let my children fail so they may learn the hard work of success. I let my children know disappointment so they may enter life with realistic empathy, not an entitlement mentality bred by misguided parenting.
As the Master, God does the same. He lets us fall. He cuts and hews. He polishes and adorns.
Making us what He wants us to be.
Making us His.
Behold, as the clay is in the potter’s hand,
so are ye in mine hand.
I have a pathological fear of doctors’ offices. I have spent too much time listening to too many doctors tell me too many hypotheses, prove none, prescribe much, charge more, and fix nothing. It has led me to where I am today–too anxious to set foot near any of them.
I have tried time and again to find a doctor who will listen, who will think outside the box without disregarding the box, and who will respect that the body, as God has made it, is a self-correcting mechanism operating as a whole unit. The foot is connected to the brain, the brain to the uterus (not yours, boys), the womb to the heart, and so on along the intricately interwoven parts of the body.
Too often a doctor will throw drugs at a problem, fixing it, or at least masking it, while causing another problem. The solution: why, more drugs of course! Or let’s just cut you open! It’s a convoluted road of anxiety and frustration for the patient.
Then there is the opposite extreme: parents and professionals scaring other parents into believing their children will get autism, cancer, and the mega-bugs if the parents follow conventional medicine. It’s paralyzing!
If only the natural side of healing could work hand-in-hand with the medical community. What a blessing that would be! If only, instead of our OBGYNs scaring us into testing and treatment and hospital interventions, we could have their support for a more peaceful birth experience. If only our pediatricians would listen to concerns about vaccines and naturalists would listen to our concerns about a lack of vaccines, and together they could find a more middle-of-the-road approach. If only people would use antibiotics when needed, but only when needed, and guide the parents along on a healing plan.
If only we could be supported in our balanced desires to have a more natural birth, a more natural baby, a more natural child, maybe then I wouldn’t be quite as frightened walking into a doctor’s office or a naturalist clinic. Maybe then I would be walking into a team meeting instead of entering a battle zone where I have to stand up for my personal health convictions. Maybe I could avoid receiving the sad head-shake meaning “You poor misinformed woman,” despite (or because of) my lack of extremism. Maybe then I would know that the doctor was looking out for our best interests and that when he did prescribe antibiotics or did stand firm about the need for a certain vaccination, I could rest assured it was not his blanket policy or drug-promo perk program strategy, but was really what was best for the child.
While I do not want to trust my children’s health to a waving of sage brush through the air and a chant, I similarly do not want to pummel their bodies with drugs. There is a happy medium. There must be!
When all the smoke and noise from the oft-heated battles between both sides die down, perhaps the naturalist and the physician can shake hands and meet in the middle. When the two link up, I’ll be happy, or at least a tad less anxious. In the meantime, I have a doctor’s appointment in a couple weeks. Anybody want to come hold my hand?
Enjoy Natural Baby Pros gentle articles about common sense fertility, pregnancy and natural baby raising. I do.
While this article accurately reflects my current views, it is my policy to inform my readers whenever I am paid to produce content. Rest assured, dear friends, that Notable Blogger will never knowingly post or promote anything that goes against our Christian values.