It will have been 5 months since we chose to not put Kylie on medication, but rather to attempt to fix her persistent pulmonary hypertension with natural healing. God has provided miracle after miracle in her and our lives that meds just didn't seem to be the right puzzle piece in this part of her masterpiece. There has been so much inside-out healing in our family this year that we made the decision to embrace the holistic healing path in a search for the root cause instead of treating symptoms.
We saw Heewon (our nutritionist) last Saturday. She couldn't find the bacteria in Kylie's body. It had begun in her lungs, moved to her blood, then liver. Now, it's gone. Gone. I had the biggest swell of joy. I was filled with so much gratitude I nearly started dancing and hugging her. Luckily, keeping Kylie from grabbing every vial in the office is a good distraction from over-celebrating :)
What we can't know yet is if this bacteria was the cause of her hypertension. So we still walk in the unknown.
And that's a scary place to be without faith and wisdom, which I pray for daily. I am not God. I am not the one who knows what is best for Kylie and directs her in the ways she should go. But God has entrusted her story to us. It sometimes feels like He has entrusted me with much when I feel I have not proven myself with the little. But I have to remember He qualifies the called; not the other way around.
And I'm not alone in this. I was slightly taken aback when Ethan mentioned he wants to be there on Friday when Kylie is tested. It was a thought that had not even crossed my mind. I was like, "You have work." But I had to breathe and let it sink in that we made these decisions together. He is her father as much as I am her mother. And if one of us feels the weight of foolishness (that's mostly me), the other can lift the fallen one. We walk together through this.
I wrote down the following in a journal to get it out of my head at the time:
"The decisions I made, I made them out of faith and love. I don't know if they are right.
In three weeks, I will stand in front of a doctor, an expert in a field that makes my understanding seem smaller than a grain of rice.
I will hold my breath as I present my daughter. It will feel so much weightier than a simple measurement reading. It will feel as though my worth, my beliefs, my choices will be weighed and judged."
And the comforting voice of God reminded me. Breathe. You are my child. Your worth is in me no matter how foolish the world thinks you are, how foolish one man thinks you are.
And then I saw the greater narrative. I thought about the end of time when we stand before our God and it will feel much the same. I saw myself in tears saying, "God, I don't know if the choices I made in my life were right or wrong. But they were made out of faith and love." And I won't know what will come through the fires of God, but it doesn't mean I don't keep pursing love just because I may not understand in this lifetime.
God loves correction and refinement. He loves to chisel at those who seek him. Love is made more perfect in Him. And perhaps the more I love, the more I may understand. Or not.
I've been reading Brené Brown's books Daring Greatly and The Gifts of Imperfection. They have brought about so much reflection and healing about the shame I heap on myself. There is a beautiful line in her book about keeping a list of names of whose opinions truly matter; it should be a short list. And that has been a hard practice for me to incorporate into my life because it doesn't mean that others' opinions don't effect me. They just can't define who I believe I am or the me that I and those closest to me love.
So even if Friday's results tell me that she is no different than she was three or six months ago, it does not mean we made a wrong choice. There was a bacteria in her lungs and it is no longer there. She is healthier because of the choices we made. We made a choice that brought about good even if it isn't the result we hope for in the end.
Another thing I'm learning from Brené's books is to shut down foreboding joy. I refuse to not make hope a big deal worrying that I may look foolish if I'm wrong. I refuse to not press into the discomfort of being proud of the choices I made. I will say I hope with abandon that the doctor will be amazed and she is healed and healthy.
And if I'm wrong I will grieve with those who love me for those choices because I was courageous enough to let them know I had hopes and expectations. But I will not dwell on that possibility until it is a reality. Hopes met or unmet, Friday will come and go, and we will find our way with our God and our Tribe from there.
So we are praying for Plan A. We want her future to be one of health and joy. Please join us in praying for our Kylie-bear.
Yes. I'm a realist in transition hoping and learning to be an optimist.
We belong to a tribe called Mosaic that lives by faith, is known by love, and is a voice of hope.
Brené Brown is a researcher and storyteller. Her blog can be found here.
