Holy Saturday

Nausea. Vomiting. Fear of moving, speaking, sipping water.

Painful to hold my baby. To laugh. To talk while standing. To sing.

Such is my life. Again.

I am lying on my back with slightly less pain than a few hours ago, but nausea so severe that I cannot even roll to my side without the feverish sweating that precedes a stomach explosion.

Why do medications have to do this to me? Why can’t it just help the pain, so I can heal, and not make me worse???

Oh Abba. You who spent hours on the cross, betrayed, despised, alone. Please give me a perspective of hope while I wait. Hope for healing. For feeling better. For holding my children. To even fold laundry.

But more than my own sake, I pray that you bless my sweet, exhausted, super-daddy/husband who has not had a break in many years. I do feel as if I am his burden to bear, his cross to carry. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. He has upheld me for so so so long, Abba. I want to not be a burden anymore, I WANT to be his helpmeet. Not the one who needs another trip to the pharmacy. To the ER. To bring water up the stairs.

Bless him. With rest. Deep, soul-satisfying rest. Satiate his weary body with the healing hand of your love. Your peace. Your hope.

And please, give me your eyes so that I may see how to live so I am not a burden. Please.


One response

  1. So beautiful, and so understandably hard to be a burden on other people.
    When I’m on my back-sick (which thankfully doesn’t happen very often) I try to be thankful for the uninterrupted period of communion with my Jesus. All of the busy-ness distractions of life have been removed. And what a joy to sit at Jesus’s feet.
    healing prayers lifted!

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