Evacuation Route PicLife should come with an evacuation plan. Feeling the storm coming, finding relief in the quickest way out of it...would feel like a life saver.
I was enjoying my Sunday evening with the kids, eating pizza, watching a movie, and planning on going to bed early. It had been a long day with Meg not feeling well.
I felt the storm brewing as Meg's crying and complaining her head hurt increased. As I hoped it would get better, it got worse. I called the neurologist and was told to bring her in.
At 9 pm we started our drive to the hospital. I knew there wouldn't be much sleep and I wondered how I'd manage. Passing one road sign after another, I wished there was one for an evacuation route. I wanted a way to avoid the overwhelming situation we were headed straight into.
The hours I should have been tucked between my 300 count cotton sheets ticked by slowly. It was even a longer night for Meg. She did not appreciate being woke up time and time again, being poked and prodded. She was crying begging to be left alone. Having to hold her down, made me want to join her rebellion and plead with her.
Although it was the wee hours of the morning, Meg was sedated to make sure she didn't move during the MRI. She woke up upset in recovery with a sore throat from the breathing tube. As she fell back to sleep, I waited for the report, purging the vending machine of all sources of chocolate.
When the report finally came, there were more questions than answers. As morning broke, it didn't feel like we were closer to a solution than we had been, and I had a gut ache.
The Houston drs came up with a plan and everyone was on board until yesterday afternoon when the neurologist looked in Meg's eyes and said the optic nerve/disc didn't look quite right...which meant automatic surgery if they were under too much pressure.
The eye doctor was delayed, so we teetered on a vast spectrum of going home, or being flown to Texas. As we waited, I could feel anxiety rising in my chest. The next several hours of what I would need to do, and for the next several weeks, rested in the answer.
Meg watched Curious George and I held my head in my hands, tired and frustrated, trying not to cry. As I wished I knew what was going on, I realized God wasn't pacing around, waiting nervously for the answer. He wasn't worried at all. He probably wanted me to lighten up. Either way, he'd take care of us and the details.
I felt my chest loosen, seeing the answer in a different light. It would change life, but it was being directed by God. Pacing around, wringing my hands, and unwrapping chocolate after chocolate, wasn't honoring, it was doubting.
As the dr arrived and double checked both Meg's eyes, I waited patiently. There wasn't visible optic swelling, so we'd get to stay in our state.
Meg had a good night, but this morning her pressure fluctuated high. She is now back on the pressure reducing medicine and has prescription pain killers for when the pain is too strong.
I think Jesus is a fan of evacuation routes and understands my desire for one. He tells us to leave everything behind and follow Him.
Sometimes what I leave behind is a row of broken dreams and how I'd like my life to be. It's hard not to look back and pout at times, but Jesus promises we'll gain more than we'll lose. Other times, I leave my worries, concerns, and doubts, thankful they're too heavy to take.
I'm thankful there's an evacuation route already planned. Jesus himself ensured the way. It brings relief with a way out. Where there is never a storm fierce enough to destroy, and refuge always awaits.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.   Romans 8:38-39