Even If The Healing Doesn't Come

"Even if the healing doesn't come, and life falls apart, and dreams are still undone, You are God, You are good, forever faithful One, even if the healing, even if the healing doesn't come."

I used to think that if neither of my parents had any health/medical problems *we would be the perfect family. It's not that they're unhealthy, it's just that my Mom has had a myriad of dental operations thanks to poor nutrition as a child and baby. And my Dad has neurological problems, two strokes (I think...I tend to lose track), lots of back pain, headaches and all that lovely stuff.

We would sit down at the table and pray, we'd pray at night, in the morning, throughout the day, "please heal Dad" "please heal Mom" and then others like: "please heal Grandma" "please, please heal Grancy."

Over the years and years of medical trips, hospital overnights, helicopter flights to Geisinger hospital, email updates to praying friends and family and countless generous meals and donations, my heart has burst from the grief, stress, and the joy of it all.

Because news flash everyone: joy does not equate happiness. Happiness can be a product of joy, but it's not a standard everyday buddy of joy. At least, this has been my experience and my frequent observations, if you have a different view on the matter, I would love to hear it.

From all of this, the joy has come from seeing a community, multiple communities, come together to help us out. We'd get anonymous letters from people with Wegmans giftcards right when we thought we'd be out of food. We'd have people stop by with meals sometimes twice in one day, simply because so many people would organize meals for us. It was a way of life. And the thought that my Dad might die never really crossed my mind. In fact, I can actually remember the three or so times that it worried me.

The first time was when my older sister was all depressed and said to me:
"Maryah, [insert some reason for her to scold me] Dad might die, okay?" I went out to see Mom in her garden and asked her,
"Mom, do you think Dad's going to die?" Her response:
"Well, he could, but we're trusting God." Or it was something near that.

Another time was when I was running around the yard and I suddenly realized that I might not ever see my Dad again (he was in the hospital, again) and I was like, "oh."

The third time was when I picked up the phone and heard Dad on the other side of it. He had lost a lot of his ability to speak, it was partial paralysis in the throat. His voice was very weak, and I was shocked at it. I was also scared.

But other than those times, it was just how things went. One day Dad would be walking around, or laying around with a severe headache, and the next we'd find out that he had dissected an artery, or had another stroke.

And through it all, God has not forsaken us. Sure, we've been put out in the desert, we've been banged up and bashed, but there's a lot of other people out there suffering as well.

Suffering is suffering though. God is God. And God is good.

Mom often says that (and right at the most despairing of times too), "God's God, He's good, and it's going to be alright." Even though it seemed as if the world was literally falling apart like a jigsaw puzzle that a careless two year old picked up, she's said those words, and it's always been true.
Because here we are, still building our puzzle, piece by piece. 

They were at the hospital for a check up the other day.

Nothing's changed. Nothing's gotten better. Nothing's gotten worse. And by the way that I say, "nothing" it almost seems like "nothing" is truly "something".

But, "You are God, You are good, forever faithful One," and I know that everything will be okay, "even if the healing doesn't come." 

The song: Even If by Kutless. 

*Unfortunately, I've found that this was a thought based on wrong assumptions.