Stay A Little Longer
I hesitate to tell this story, for a number of reasons. First, it doesn’t give the impression that I am a levelheaded, put together person. Second, it sounds a little bonkers, admittedly. But here goes anyway.
This summer, I heard God speak to me. Directly, I think… it’s a little hard to explain.
Two weeks ago, I talked a little about my summer - how noisy and chaotic it was after Margot was born. But I didn’t talk at all about the month leading up to her birth, and all of the things life threw at my family.
First, our dog Poptart became sick. He was old and blind and began having severe digestive issues. He was throwing up multiple times each day; the vet couldn’t figure out what was wrong but suggested that we put Poptart through numerous expensive tests to see if we could find the issue. Meanwhile, at home, Camille - my generally fearless, carefree girl - began to exhibit severe anxiety about Poptart’s vomiting, which progressed into full-fledged terror of Poptart altogether. It became such a huge part of our lives that we had a child therapist meet with Camille to try and work through some of her anxiety.
At the same time, Matt’s elderly parents were in a car accident. We found ourselves back-and-forth to Wilmington, at hospital visits, dealing with the insurance company, planning assisted living for my mother-in-law, and searching for an elder law attorney.
All of this while I was 30-plus weeks pregnant.
One night, we put Camille to bed and she began screaming in terror at the prospect of sleeping in the same apartment as Poptart. We tried working through the techniques that the therapist had taught us, but nothing worked. She was awake, screaming in terror, for hours. It became so bad that Matt and I questioned whether or not we needed to take her to the hospital - and when she heard us discussing this she begged to go.
It was overwhelmingly terrible. I retreated to my bathroom, ran a shower, and sat in the tub crying. In that moment, I simply could not handle any more.
I began to pray an angry prayer. What is this, God? I am about to have a baby. Clearly I have messed up the one child you’ve given me - and now I’m going to mess up another. I obviously cannot handle this. Why can’t you make life ease up for me right now? Are you even there? Can’t you see that this is too much?
But God didn’t respond.
I sat in the shower for a while and then thought about Matt, still battling Camille by himself in the other room. Feeling a little guilty for leaving him in such chaos, I got ready to turn off the water… and that’s when I heard from God.
It wasn’t an audible voice I heard with my ears. It was more like a thought that popped into my head suddenly that I knew hadn’t come from my own brain - so foreign it honestly scared me a little. It said “You don’t have to go yet. Stay a little longer.”
I know what you’re thinking. There’s probably some scientific explanation. My subconscious was probably just trying to protect me. Believe me - I would be skeptical too if someone told me this story. But I know - I know it - that this was God.
“But that night, when I was overwhelmed with worry and concern, even after raging against God in the shower, I know that God was with me in the thick of it, urging me to just sit with God a little longer.”
Nothing was fixed magically. We had to put Poptart down shortly after this night. We are still making regular trips to Wilmington and dealing with insurance and lawyers and medical bills for his parents. Camille’s anxiety has gotten much better - but it’s still there, and it still rears its head on occasion.
But that night, when I was overwhelmed with worry and concern, even after raging against God in the shower, I know that God was with me in the thick of it, urging me to just sit with God a little longer.
So may you, when you are overwhelmed and life seems to be spiraling out of control, when you have a few choice words for the God that seems so distant, remember that God is with you even then, in the chaos and confusion… and may you stay with God just a little longer.
