Letting Go - Part 3
I’ve always had the tendency to look ahead too far instead
of focusing on the immediate moment. I
spent excessive hours agonizing over the day my children would leave me. While in Australia, with that thought heavy
on my mind, I isolated myself from possible friendships and spent every moment
I could with my children. As they were
very active teenagers, I had lots of time to feel lonely and sorry for myself.
Megan’s illness was an eye opener for
me. Now, instead of fretting over the
thought of her going off to college, I had to face the risk of losing her
permanently to death. Leaving for
college was so insignificant compared to that.
How pathetic I had looked in nurturing my selfish pity as I now faced
the uncertainties for her young life. I
had to remind myself that she didn’t belong to me; she was loaned to me by God,
to raise and nurture. Her life was up to
Him.
I was tired of this struggle and didn’t want to
resist anymore. I didn’t want to get in
the way of Megan’s healing because God had to teach me some lesson I was too
stubborn to figure out on my own. As
soon as I understood that, peace and joy began to flood my soul.
I realized that this extra time waiting for Megan’s
surgery was a special gift to me. It was
quality time I would normally have never known.
I embraced every moment with her, realizing God had a plan for Megan’s
life apart from my desires as her mother.
I had to allow it to happen. I
knew I had to let go of her. The delay
in her surgery was more time that God gave me to do so.
Unable to go to school while we waited the six weeks
for surgery, Megan stayed at home with me.
We talked, watched movies, went to doctor appointments, and spent all
our time together. Her friends would
visit and bring her homework so she could keep up with school. She was scheduled to graduate that December
and had lots to do. I cherished every
second I had to take care of her and show her how much she meant to me. That period of waiting was one of the most
precious times I’ve ever had with Megan.
The day came for her surgery and I struggled to
maintain my peace. My mind wanted to
remind me of all the things that could go wrong. I tried to stay focused on God’s grace and
mercy. Megan spent the night before her
surgery at the hospital so they could begin prepping her. I wanted to stay in the room with her in case
she needed me, but she assured me she was okay alone. Going home was my first major step in letting
go of her. Every ounce of my being wanted
to stay in that hospital room that night.
The surgeon prepared us for an operation that could
last for nine to twelve hours. Because
of the unusualness of this case, she would have another specialist assisting
her, with a heart doctor and pancreatic specialist standing by if needed. They
feared it would be connected to some of her organs, or even worse, wrapped around her aorta.
When the surgery began, Rick and I stepped out for
breakfast. With the long wait ahead of us, we took our time and planned out what we would do in the interim. I felt anxious being away from the hospital,
and so we decided to return there as soon as we finished eating. After only an hour of sitting in the waiting
room, one of the nurses came out and told us they were finished and everything went well. Megan was
going into the recovery room. We could
see her in a little while and the doctor would fill us in on the details.
That was only three hours after the surgery
started. We had prepared for nine to
twelve hours of an agonizing wait, and before I knew it, the surgery was
over! I was so elated and started thanking God for this prompt healing.
It turned out that Megan had a benign cystic
lymphangioma about the size of a football in her abdomen. Miraculously, it penetrated no organs and
came out easily without disturbing its surroundings. Only 150 cases of this type of tumor had ever
been reported, worldwide, at this time. Glory to God!
Megan spent a few days in intensive care and after
five more days in the hospital, came home to a rapid recovery. She was dancing in a recital within six weeks
of her surgery. She also cherishes the
scar she carries that starts at the center of her breastbone and curves around
her navel.
God touched Rick and me in a mighty way through this
trial in our lives, and we still look back at this time as a monument to His
healing power and almighty grace. I
learned, the hard way, about letting go of my children.
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