Living in the “Maybe”

                     

 I have learned not to get too comfortable with plans. Not because I don’t like them, I do. I make them with hope, excitement and with something to look forward to. Plans feel like promise that life will open up, even just for a little while. But I’ve come to realize that my plans don’t entirely belong to me, they belong to Mike’s health.

Back in February, I was supposed to be in Florida. I could already picture it, I had been planning to jump out of a huge box to surprise my granddaughter, Noelle (My Poppy), for her birthday. Spend time with my daughter, son in law and the 3 Florida grandkids who are growing up so fast. I wasn’t planning on anything extravagant, no plans for Disney or anything, just spending quality time together. That’s all I was hoping for. Instead, Mike needed emergency surgery and I had no choice, but to cancel. 

Not resentfully, not dramatically, just in a disappointed but accepting way. Because when something is urgent, when someone you love needs you, the decision is already made for you.

I told myself , “April, I will go in April.” And I believed it. My flight was rescheduled for this Friday. I started to feel the familiar flicker of anticipation again, this time even telling the grandkids that I’m coming (maybe I shouldn’t have). Maybe this time it would work out. Maybe this time life would cooperate.

Then Monday came. I left my first job and called Mike on my way to my second job as I do every day, just to check on him. He told me his left ankle was swollen and red. He has had a spot on the bottom of his foot that I’ve been watching and although not healing quickly, it has had no sign of infection. I told him I would stop at home before going to work to check it out. He told me I could wait until after work, but knowing only one leg was swollen concerned me, so I took the detour home. I got home to check it, his ankle was angry looking in a way that immediately tells you something isn’t right. I checked out the spot on the bottom of his foot, which was leaking on to his bandaids but nothing out of the usual. It still didn’t look infected, but his ankle/shin area did, I thought it must be cellulitis from the inside maybe. I knew we couldn’t wait, we had to go to the ER. His feet are deformed from the A.S. fusing, so they point outward, kind of laying to the side. When I went to put his sock back on, I caught a glimpse of something on the outside of his ankle. There it was, the cause of the swelling and redness. A quarter size ulcer, clearly infected.

I called my boss and told her I wasn’t going to be in and I took him. In the ER, they took him into triage very quickly, within less than a half hour, he was hooked up to IV antibiotics, had an X-ray of his ankle and we were back in a place that has become far too familiar. Hospital rooms, uncertainty and waiting. Now here I am, about 40 hours before my flight, sitting in limbo… again.

That’s the part that people don’t always see, it’s not just the cancellations. It’s the in between, the not knowing, the holding your breath while life decides for you, again, which direction you’re going. Do I go? Do I stay? Will he be ok? What if something happens while I’m gone? There is no right answer, just love, obligation, responsibility, exhaustion, and longing, because the truth is, I want to go. I want a break and I want to spend time with my daughter, son in law and grandchildren. I also plan to see a loved one who is very sick and this could likely be the last time I see him this side of heaven. I want to laugh with my Florida grandchildren, snuggle them and be with them physically and not through FaceTime on an Ipad screen. I want to enjoy time with them without one eye on the phone, waiting for it to ring. But I also know what it means to be the person Mike depends on. 

So here I am, living in the maybe. Maybe I will take that flight, maybe I’ll unpack instead, maybe things will work out, maybe they won’t. This is the space I live in now, not certainty, not control, but surrender. While I don’t always like it, I am learning something in it too. I’m learning that love sometimes looks like staying. That strength doesn’t always feel strong, and that faith, real faith, is trusting God even when the plan keeps changing. For now I wait.

The truth is, when my plans are uncertain, God’s are not. He sees what I can’t. He knows what’s ahead, even when I’m stuck in the middle, trying to decide my next step. Somehow, in ways I don’t always understand, he is working in both the going and the staying.

Maybe faith isn’t about having clear direction all the time. Maybe it’s about trusting him in the interruptions. Trusting that he is present in the hospital room just as much as he would be on the plane.Trusting that nothing I am missing escapes him. Trusting he will make a way for what matters, in his time.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 < that is enough for today.