I mean, no one likes surgery, right? But I gotta say, this hospital was just old and creepy. Like, I kept expecting the lights to flicker and ghost children to appear. It had the feel of a hostel with Morphine, which I admit was my favorite part.
One moment in particular stands out in my foggy, post-surgery brain. I was thirsty. Like, after a hike in the desert thirsty. The tray with the white foam cup with bendy straw was about a foot and a half away. It might as well have been across the ocean. I could not reach it. The call button? Also out of my reach.
When the dietary staff came to deliver my "dinner" I was so relieved. I asked her if she could please push my tray to me so that I could have a drink. "We aren't allowed to do that," she answered as she fled my room to sling her hospital hash to the next patient.
So there I was. Hurting. Drugged. Helpless as a newborn kitten, and more thirsty than I have ever been in my entire life. A cup of cold water was there, just out of reach. I wanted to call out, but my voice, still extremely raspy from having the tube down my throat during the long surgery, betrayed me. I felt like Kate Winslet's character at the end of Titanic. "Jack? Jack?" That is how I squeaked. Not very effective for fetching the attention of the overworked nursing staff bustling by my room.
In that moment, I could do nothing to improve my condition. I could not quench my thirst. I was completely helpless. Can I just tell you how much I HATED that feeling? I am a doer. I like to do things. Make them happen. It was in this moment that I did, despite the drugs, feel God speaking to me. Telling me that this experience was no different than the last 38 years of my life, I was just thirstier.
John 15:15 says "Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing."
I cannot reach that cup and put the straw to my lips. I cannot make the USCIS apply the law correctly and issue my daughter a visa to come home where she belongs. I cannot live with the pain and gnawing ache of her absence everyday. I can't do any of it. Sure, I can be a shell with a smile on my face and hide and pretend that it is all under control, but that is such a lie.
We are devastated by the recent denial of our appeal to bring Leticia home. People ask if I am ok. No, really, I am not. But was I ever? Without God, I can do nothing. So, during this time I am trying to remember to cling to him and reject anger, bitterness, and worry. People we don't even know have offered to do fundraisers for us to pay for ANOTHER appeal, and we welcome all help. Because if there is one thing God has taught me in the last month, it is that I can do NOTHING, and that on my best day, I desperately need him.
We are grateful for the friends who have brought meals after surgery, prayed for us, donated toward our legal costs, and keep Leticia and our case in their daily prayers. What an encouragement it is to know that although I can do nothing without my God, nothing is too hard for him, and in HIS time, everything will be made right. Love you all! <3
