One Year Later: Why the Trusting Never Ends

Exactly one year ago I had basically no eyesight. I’d been to three doctors in one day. I sat nervously in a dark room, with nothing more than a hospital gown and my quickly diminishing faith. Exactly one year ago I was in the ER about to find out I needed brain surgery.

I prayed and prayed. “God, if you could just bring me through this I promise I’ll never doubt you again.” Because surely, if I got through that, everything else would seem like nothing. I wouldn’t need to worry about the smaller things because heck, I’D BE ALIVE. What more could I ask for?

Well, I got through surgery. In fact, it went so well that they didn’t even have to put me in ICU afterwards like they thought they would. But I was terrified I’d get a brain bleed, a spinal fluid leak, or one of the other million things they said could happen. They sent me home within three days. I ended up in the ER twice once they sent me home. It was a rough couple weeks.

I just kept thinking OK, God, get me through this one more thing . . . one more thing . . . one more thing.

But it never really ended. Once surgery was over it was recovery. And after that it was waiting until my next brain scan. And after that, well, going back to real life. Work and a household on top of exhaustion and headaches. Oh yeah, and a year-long wait until my next scan.

When does it ever end?

My next scan is still about six weeks away, and honestly I wish it would speed by and never come all at the same time. I’m terrified that my hormones still aren’t back to normal, that my cortisol levels will never even out. I’m worried it will be back again. They’ll take out my entire pituitary gland. I won’t ever be able to have kids. These thoughts go through my head each and every day.

The trusting never ends. A year ago it was “God, please keep me alive,” now it’s “I beg you to let me have kids someday” and after that it will be “Please, please, please keep them safe.”

Every day when my feet hit the ground I have to give that day—every hour, down to the second—to the Lord.

I try grasp at hope everywhere I see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to trust. Five days before my surgery I had no idea there was anything going on in my head. That’s a scary thought. But had I known the outcome, would it have been faith at all?

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. —Hebrews 11:1

Faith doesn’t tell us to take a leap in the dark. It tells us to trust our never failing God with a perfect track record. Faith proves the reality of things that cannot be seen by the bodily eye. It means we are in full approval of all God has revealed as holy, just, and good.

The scary, unpredictable unseen

Faith, by nature, is trusting God with the unseen. And when you have a lot of unseens, you just have to keep on trusting.

I look back on the past year and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I learned to persevere, trust, and hope like I never thought I could. I prayed more than I probably did in my first twenty years combined. I got a small taste of what it’s really like to trust God when it isn’t easy.

Because life isn’t easy, and it wasn’t designed to be.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. —John 16:33

Take heart, my friends. Faith isn’t easy, but peace is so freeing. Just trust Him.