Life in the Valley

Sunday at church was the "snow delayed" sermon on stress that is brought on by the "Dark Valleys of Life". It was a talk aimed at how to keep hope alive when travelling through some of life's darker moments. A good friend of ours also shared about their experience of losing a child at childbirth, and how they coped.

It was a very very emotional service - especially for one held on the second Sunday of advent!

I came away with several somewhat random insights - from the perspective of someone who is walking through a valley right now. (please excuse the excessive use of metaphor here - once I get started...)

1) When you are dealing with life's challenges on the valley floor, you can't just "will yourself" out of the valley. There is no way that you can make yourself happy, and make it all go away.

2) Looking back, I can see where I've tried to escape. I've climbed and crawled, and pushed myself up the valley walls towards the high ground where I can see everyone else standing in the sun and enjoying life's majestic views. I've beaten myself black and blue climbing the steep walls only to have the ground give out beneath my feet and send me tumbling face down in the mud below. Those are the lowest of the low days.

3) While the views from the top are the most majestic, it is the valley where things grow. Alongside the river on the valley floor is where the fertile land is. It is where God tends his garden, and produces the rich variety of fruit.

4) I am not alone. I could see on Sunday by the tears in the eyes all over the church that the valley floor is covered in footprints.

My path lies along the valley floor. I did not choose it, but I must choose to walk it. This valley will one day end - be it on this earth or beyond. Until then, I will take each day as it comes, one step at a time. I will stop to smell the flowers and listen to the gentle running water. I will enjoy the panoramic view of the majestic mountain peaks - but from the path laid out before me.

Cooling Off Period

Well - I guess I shouldn't leave people hanging like that. I was sure steamed though - I'm feeling a bit better now. (not happy, but less angry)

The assessment came to the point where the various parties involved "were unable to reach a consensus", and want to re-evaluate Doug at age 6.

So what does that mean to me? It means the medical system has taken another round out of me. I'm feeling a little more beat up, and a little more overwhelmed - but not entirely without hope. Doug is feeling better too, and I can only speculate what it would have been like had he been operating at full health.

But you know what? It's over. I can lock up that concern for another couple of years.

Allison had a good comparison the other day. She said she felt like we were on a submarine. We'd go into one "compartment" to deal with an issue, and do our best to stem the leaking. Then, when time was up and we were onto the next unrelated appointment, we jump out of that compartment, slam the water-tight door, and dive into the next compartment. We block everything from the previous appointment out.

What this means is that we are currently not flooding the whole submarine at once. Individual compartments are still leaking, but we can lie on the floor wet and exhausted - but still afloat.

I'm hoping that we will have fewer appointments as everybody gets into the Christmas season, and a little more time to refocus our lives again. The submarine must move forward.