And then Monday came. I could tell it was going to be a different type of day. I didn't feel well or rested at all. The day seemed scattered and fragmented, and I felt like I was chasing my thoughts, trying to piece together what was going on. People arrived for Bible study that evening, and we had a nice time, but the second they left, the break-down began. By the time I went to bed, I was restless and, quite simply, sad. Sleep wouldn't come, and the longer I lay there, the more anxious I became.
Finally, understanding came, and with that, words.
I don't want to make any decisions.
I knew Robby wasn't asleep. How could he be with me rustling around and fighting my pillow and sheets? He understood everything with those few words, and even though speaking them released the flood, I also felt a peace.
I don't want to make any decisions. I don't want to have to decide to have an IVF or pursue adoption or take out a loan or go into debt or make an appointment or any other difficult thing. Even though we have made these tentative plans, deep down I keep hoping a decision will never really have to be made. Because, of course, I keep hoping that a miracle will happen, and I'll be healed, and we'll move on as if this whole thing was just a terrible dream.
I want it to be easy, and right now, it seems all our options are anything but that. I feel so tiny and incapable of taking the next step because I feel paralyzed to make the next decision.
Paul's words in the book of Romans brought relief and joy the next morning. I am a child of God, filled with the Holy Spirit, led and guided by the very presence of my Creator and Sustainer. My flesh desperately wants the next step and answer, but it is not mine to have unless the Spirit leads me there. Trying to get there on my own will only bring anxiety and fear, which is not God's will for my life. I know there will come a point when I need to be bold and strong, and hopefully, God will bring clarity for me to know when and what that is. For now, I am still waiting.