If It Doesn't Kill You

Looking at my calendar today, it struck me as odd that it was only 3 weeks ago that Ben had his birthday.  It was only 2 weeks ago that we went to the emergency room.  It was 1 week ago that we had our first sleeping-through-the-night again, post cold.

Victor and I went to Once Upon a Child today, to get some new shoes (since his toe is poking out of his current pair).  He coughed once.  I don't think I'm normally the paranoid type, but I will admit that to hear him cough makes my heart skip a beat.  A month ago, when he was coming out of his first cold, I was telling someone at church that he had been sick and it had been pretty rough.  He laughed at me (the first-time mom) and waved a hand, saying, "Amy, he'll be fine!" 

I'm sure there is some first-time mom stress involved.  But my experience of his two sick spells of late pressed me closer to excruciating than I have been for a very long time.  More than one night, I lay in bed (or sat in the dark in the living room), listening for Victor, with the minutes ticking by in a helpless, agonizing struggle.

A week ago, he started perking up and showing us his old cheerful self, and I felt like I was panting, like I had been underwater until my lungs ached and finally gasped in some clean, pure air again.  I was in recovery myself, I think, and not just from sleep deprivation.

1 Peter 1 says that God gives us various struggles for a little while--if necessary--for the proof of our faith.  Maybe it's like weight-lifting (which, though you may find it difficult to believe, I participated in twice a week in high school).  You bench press a comfortable weight to start out.  Then you increase it for your second set.  And often times, you'll finish by trying to max it--lift the greatest weight you can handle (which never took a whole lot for me).

After the last set, your arms are shaking.  Your muscles are broken down and exhausted.  (I remember some very awkward attempts to wash my hair post-workout, when I could barely get my arms up to my head.)  But after you've rested for a day or two, you are stronger than you were before.  As they say, if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger.

I don't know if I feel stronger yet.  When I think about Victor getting sick again (and I know it's going to happen), I just feel limp inside.  But God was faithful.  And He will be faithful. 

Last week I listened to this brief discussion with Pastor John on What Is Strong Biblical Womanhood?.  He talks about the woman who laughs at the future (from Proverbs 31), who does what is right without being frightened by any fear (from 1 Peter 2).  I want to be a woman like that. 

I don't have strong faith.  But I have a strong God.  And since He's patient and wise and good, He doesn't give suffering to crush but to strengthen my faith.  May it be.