Forgive me for another post similar to the last one... but today I woke up and the first things on my heart were what happened after the accident last year. Once again, the memories begged to be set free from the trap of my mind.
But first, I had to look up the word nostalgia. I love this word probably because I carry so much of it with me all the time. Put it together with the fact that I am good with dates, and it seems that every week of the year there is something that I remember and become nostalgic about from some earlier point in my life (even as far back as childhood). One of the definitions is, "a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life."
I don't know that I ever desire to return to these memories, but I really enjoy basking in the glow of them. Interesting that I should be so nostalgic about a living nightmare that we entered last year. I am concluding that it's the good things I am feeling nostalgic for - the way family and friends rallied around us, the way Christ's love was all-consuming, the way all other things in life just faded away and didn't matter.
Ok, so back to my musings about one year ago today, October 7th. It was the day between the accident and Enzo's official death.
One year ago, Todd and Kate did not leave Enzo's bed side. They didn't sleep or eat. They refused medical care for themselves. They cried and prayed all day long over their baby's body on life support. The medical staff did all sorts of tests on Enzo to find any sign of brain activity. No matter what they did, they could find none at all. Initially the doctors told us it would get worse before it got better. Unfortunately, the worse was well here and it would not be getting better (we still had hope though). But through this day, Todd and Kate never, ever gave up. They refused to believe what the doctors told them. They never, ever gave up.
One year ago, Amy went to the hospital for good parts of the day to just be there and relay information to us. News stations from Seattle began calling and doing phone interviews. Amy was even willing to do a face to face interview, although it never happened because Enzo's tests were giving such hopeless results to us.
In Detroit, Elisabeth was in the middle of a rigorous school schedule, but still bought a plane ticket to be flying out the next day. I know how much she was sacrificing by taking time away from her her studies to come.
And here in Colorado, in perhaps one of the biggest displays of love in this whole ordeal, my best friend Michelle offered to leave her family for a few days to make the long drive up to Washington with me (1500 miles) since my husband was out of the country. Through this journey, the miracle of Enzo's sunset happened on the next day (you may read it here: http://baby-zo.blogspot.com/2010/10/story-behind-zos-sunset.html).
This day was a day caught between hope and fear - the doctors were saying he would not live, but we knew the God of miracles might provide one here. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to do much of anything being strung so tightly between two extremes.
So why would I be so nostalgic about such a stressful, tension filled day like this? Maybe because I look back and see God's total and complete faithfulness. I imagine that befuddles the minds of some - how can God be faithful when he let our littlest family member die? I don't have an easy answer to that, but I encourage you to read God's Word. Trust your life to his care and when your valleys come, He will walk through them with you.
My beautiful friend Karen showed me this video yesterday. It was a song that kept her going in her own valley several years ago - enjoy. :)