I wrestled with whether to post tonight...few want to read about struggles of the heart and soul but I needed to get this out tonight and sort through these emotions. Tonight I have felt some of my most despised of human emotions. Tonight, I am angry! Frustrated! The human "why's" are flooding over me and drowning out my sensibilities.
Over the last 3-4 months, attempts have been made toward the disposition of the small child who holds my heart- Melissa. It started with the evaluation in PaP at the end of October that was to be the start of a journey to other places for medical treatments and evaluations. But, as my hazy vision sees it tonight, it feels like the end. In the moments of receiving a no-where diagonsis of an inoperable heart defect we stepped into a lake of quicksand. We fight it and pull and struggle. We yell and fuss and fight more. Yet, we go no where. No progress. Just slow inevitable sinking.
After witnessing the rally of many toward Tamaka and then incredible movement of heaven and earth to provide for her, I have felt tonight anger with myself on why haven't I been able to accomplish this for my own??? We were not in time to save Tamaka though I truly have no doubt there was nothing that could've been done faster. To have complete medical facility and teams set up in agreement in 48hrs is a miracle. So, will Melissa be on her deathbed before anything can be done to get her out of Haiti? I wait and wonder.
There have been people that I love and trust offer advice but the problem remains...I can find no one to stand with us on the medical end. To accomplish this there has to be physicians who are willing to write the letters and stand and say this little girl must come here for care. That they will assume her care. There isn't a specified treatment, specific goal to reach for. Her needs are broad and undefinied. She needs, well, everything but nothing. I don't want to be her doctor. Can I just be her Mommy? I have been an advocate for other children, but feel alone as I advocate for her. I am failing her and I know it. It's there. In my face as she sits in Port au Prince now looking to be moved to someone else's home from our missionaries. (Another twist that I'll explain another time.)
Today, I have had been asked to pray or offer assistance for several children needing care in the US for a myriad of issues several of which are cardiac in nature. And that ugly part inside me that I try to hide away says, "WAIT! What about Melissa? Did someone forget about her? Who can help us?"
It is horrible to say these things I know...I know. She looks so good right now on the outside such that everyone forgets this little girl has essentially a 3 chambered heart and runs on 25% less oxygen that another child on her good days. We are on borrowed time that is slipping away day by day.
I know, KNOW the Lord has this. I KNOW he is in control. But, I'm broken tonight. Weak. Lost. I wouldn't care for myself one bit, if a frail little infant wasn't depending on me to find her way out. In this haze of darkness my mind wonders to thoughts of "maybe this isn't God's will for us to be with her. Maybe, her new caregivers are better choices for her forever family." My heart aches and breaks and the blur of tears in my eyes seem that they will have no end.
But somehow, I will force myself as I close this entry to lay this down at His feet. To praise Him in this storm.
Praise His holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime!
Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5