Broken Umbrella

When it rains, it pours. And I feel like I'm standing in the downpour with a broken umbrella.

Over the last 2 months, I've learned something about grief. It's sneaky. It creeps in unnoticed and suddenly appears out of nowhere. There have been so many times I've wanted to call my sister to share an inside joke or to talk about a favorite memory. Not being able to share things with her has been harder in ways that I didn't expect. I wish so much I could call her in heaven so she could tell me all about it.

I'm typing this post from the hospital. Little Miss was admitted over the weekend, and we're currently starting night number 3. I'm not going to lie, it's been terrible. I don't particularly like being in hospitals, and I hate that our family is separated. It's weighing on everyone. It's hard that love alone can't make a precious baby feel better or comfort boys when mommy's not there. If life was a wrestling match, Chad and I have considered tapping out more than once.

In all the stress, exhaustion, fear, and frustration, I am trying to cling to the hope that I have a great Helper and nothing that is going on in my family escapes His attention. When I say "try," I mean that. It is a big struggle for me. Despite over 20 years of knowing God's truth, my faith is shakng. I'm asking questions and having doubts that I haven't had before. I am ready to find my footing.