Darkness of Entitlement PicI never thought of myself as having an entitlement complex. Yet there I was holding a screaming Meg as a second iv was attempted, knowing she did nothing to deserve this. Feeling the road stretch endlessly ahead, I wondered what was going to become of us.
Houston said we could come in through their ER, or have a new MRI scan overnighted to them. They also lowered her brain pressure medicine back down. Which is very scary since she’s still having issues with high pressure, but good because of how it was affecting her body…and causing her to be evil.
Supposedly aggressive agitation is normal for kids on this medicine. Which came as a relief. My sad little girl who couldn’t quit breaking down, had morphed into an angry devil child, balling her tiny fists, shaking her arms, and yelling. She'd cry upset she didn't understand why she couldn't stop feeling angry. Her fuse lasted as long as her patience, which would become increasingly nonexistent as the day wore on…or as soon as she got out of bed in the morning.
I tried reminding her of how we’re to be light. She had prayed all summer for her and Evan to remember to be light in the darkness. She loved the imagery of Jesus shining through us, and how darkness is driven away.
Sometimes it’s hard to face what’s in the light. It’s where the ugliness can really be seen, where it can’t be hid, and disgust over it takes hold.

Waiting for her to come out of the MRI, I considered how the next coming weeks would be affected. Thanksgiving is coming up. Last year, I spent it alone. With my brain injury and constant exhaustion, it was hard to go anywhere, let alone be in groups of people. The extent of my holiday memories include sleeping and laying on the couch, thinking life the way it was, would only last for a season. Next year, life would be back on track, and I’d look back full of gratitude for the experience I had, and how God used it.

What upsets me the most isn’t where we are now, although it is trying. It’s the disappointment and sense of failure from the holiday I spent as a normal recovery day, on the couch a year ago.

The ugly entitlement tells me I deserved more. My family was supposed to have a normal life now. The suffering and hardships were to be behind us. A mere memory bringing pain, but also the gratefulness of restoration.

It makes me want to ask God if “normal” is too much for me to ask for. After all, the bible talks about he who asks, receives. Yet there is something inside of me, keeping me from my begging to be normal. I can never get around the knowledge; God has other ideas.

Entitlement can’t exist when we’re called to lower ourselves. When we’re told what to leave. When we’re to move and follow after God. It’s embarrassing then, the ugliness of entitlement, because who am I? Apparently a follower who likes to direct Jesus.

Not knowing what each day will bring, I’m learning not to hope and expect what I want. Next year, I’m not expecting hardships to be over and life back on track. I’m hoping to be one year wiser. Hoping my family learns a little more about love and grace. Hoping God will use these crazy hardships and our broken lives for something good in this world...and shine some light. Because there is plenty of darkness.

As Meg came out of the MRI, I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. One of the techs brought her a surprise, a fancy holiday Barbie. The exhaustion in Meg's eyes was driven away, excitement beaming through. I felt a sense of anticipation wash over the ugliness of my entitlement. We never have any idea what's about to happen.

When a servant comes in from plowing or taking care of sheep, does his master say, 'Come in and eat with me'? No, he says, 'Prepare my meal, put on your apron, and serve me while I eat. Then you can eat later.' And does the master thank the servant for doing what he was told to do? Of course not. In the same way, when you obey me you should say, 'We are unworthy servants who have simply done our duty.'     Luke 17:7-10