There have been many times in my life where I've received a knowing. A real knowing. Where wisdom, insight, answers, comfort, and guidance have come to me. Time when it's been crucial or urgent to know, or to act. But other times, the knowing has come just as a simple understanding, change, or idea that would or could impact my everyday life, or the life of one of my children.
I strongly believe in a woman's intuition. A mother's intuition. I have seen this gift manifested in other women, especially in my own mother.
Most of the time, this quiet, yet powerful, understanding comes when I'm alone, or when it's quiet.
When I'm still.
Sometimes, these understandings or answers
come in dreams. Or sometimes they come in the middle of the night around three or four o'clock in the morning, when I think about it. Where I'll suddenly wake up and poignant thoughts and feelings quietly distill upon my soul; sometimes forceful and piercing enough to make me close pay attention.
This kind of thing happened to me last Wednesday morning. I had taken Jane to her doctor appointment the day before as a follow up to her endoscopy/colonoscopy. With her diagnosis of celiac disease-- a life long illness that tends to run in families and though one's genes-- her physician advised me to have each member of our family have the blood test done.
And when I woke up last Wednesday at four o'clock in the morning, I began to put all the puzzle pieces together, and everything started to make sense about Sam and his health from the time he was a little boy. And it came to me in such a powerful, knowing way that this child, too, has celiac disease.
So the next morning, he and I both went to the hospital for blood tests. Mine came back negative, but no surprise to me,
his came back positive. And it was a miracle that the following day, yesterday, he was able to get right in for his own endoscopy, followed by nine vials of blood drawn to detect other possible food allergies. Three hospital visits in one week, and then a trip scheduled to the doctor this coming Friday. Grateful that even though his case is more severe than Jane's, his symptoms aren't.
At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if there are others in the family who may also be diagnosed. Which means we'll have to repeat all these medical procedures and implement all these dietary changes over again.
In many ways, I can't believe this is happening to our family. And with tears in my eyes, I told Sam I would gladly trade places with him; me being the one to have to deal with this. It hurts me to know that he and Jane and perhaps others in our family have to go through this; how this disease will impact the rest of their lives.
How it's just one more hardship we've faced this summer, and right when we are in the thick of this busy, almost overwhelming time of preparing Sam to head out on his church mission in just three weeks time.
How can we do this? I ask.
But through it all, I can see so many tender mercies. And I feel so incredibly humbled and grateful to have been given this spiritual prompting at such a crucial time in Sam's life. The relief we feel that he can still go and do what he's planned and hoped for all of his life. That his mission is not going be somewhere half way around the world, but right close in a neighboring state, where there will be good medical care, resources, and good people who will be willing and able to accommodate him. That this journey into the world of celiac and gluten-free has now become a family affair; a hardship to be shared, and not just suffered by one alone. Knowing that we are in this, together.