Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Some of you know that we have a been in an epic battle for Peyton's health. What started out as some wheezing about two or three times a year when he would pick up a respiratory infection, has morphed over the past two months to a round-the-clock regimen of breathing treatments, oral steroid doses and lots and LOTS of prayer. Nothing breaks my heart more than knowing the pain that Peyton feels and seeing him strive so hard to control all of the frustration and irritation caused by sleepless nights and his aching body. What a terribly helpless feeling.
For some reason, the house that we moved into when we came to Texas seems to be a culprit. We know that Peyton is allergic to dogs, dust and mold-- especially (and most significantly) mold. We live one block from a lake in a home that was built in the late 60's. Unfortunately we highly suspect that mold is lurking somewhere and silently attacking our little guy. What is acceptable to the rest of our family, wreaks havoc on Peyton. Because of this (and because what parent WOULDN'T move heaven and earth to keep their little one safe and secure), we had to find another place to move.
Moving meant breaking our lease. Ugh. We adore the owners of the house that we rent. They love Jesus. We love Jesus. We respect each other, and I want God to prosper them richly. And the last thing that we wanted was to leave them without a renter. But, at the same time, we needed to get Peyton out of there-- like yesterday.
So we found another house and got it secured. But we needed to find new renters for the house we were in. We tried. And nothing. No bites. I mean, seriously, in the most sought-after community near Lindale? What was going on? I was losing my hope. My faith was strong, but my hope felt gone.
Finally, yesterday morning I stood in the shower, and I simply surrendered. Surrendered Peyton. Surrendered my circumstances. Confessed that I have been allowing my peace to come from the perfect outcome rather than the perfection of the Orchestrator himself. My stress takes a toll on my health, my family and even *gasp* my faith (even though I don't always recognize it). And yesterday, I couldn't do it anymore. I just let go of it. And I asked my Daddy to come to my rescue.
And He did. My God rode on a white horse yesterday afternoon. Our friends-- the owners of our house-- called to tell us that they had spent time praying about what to do, and they knew that they were supposed to simply release us from our lease effective IMMEDIATELY. They are going to do some work to the house that needs done. My heart is still overflowing with gratitude and thankfulness. That picture of Peyton sleeping a sweet peaceful sleep up above, my prayer is that we will get moved into the other house over the next week-- and that Peyton will sleep in sweet peace again. I believe that there will be no more fitful nights with two or three rounds of breathing treatments just to open his lungs in the middle of the night. And most of all, I believe this: Psalm 4:8 "[Peyton] will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make [him] dwell in safety."
I sit here and weep. Because I'm thankful. Because I'm exhausted. Because I understand just a little bit of what some of my other sweet momma friends have gone through with their children (things I have never before fully understood). I'm too drained to go back and edit this post. If it's disjointed, oh well. It's all I can muster at the moment.
But the praise report was too important not to share. I love you guys!