his request

“For I know that my redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin was been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself and my eyes shall behold, and not another.” Job 19:25

we found ourselves at a cottage this weekend, and are now getting to enjoy a warm morning on the porch. i was looking forwarding to morning, knowing that mercies would be anew. when i asked ian what he would like to post about, he said prayer requests and specifically that he would be able to walk.

thank you, always

i&l

I walked a mile with pleasure;
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
for all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne'er a word said she;
But,oh, the things I learned from her
when sorrows walked with me.

Robert Browning Hamilton "Along the Road"

I have a brain injury, too

On Friday after work, it was warm in the 70s, the end of the day was on my mind followed by two more work-less days. Driving home with the windows down, I watched as people were jogging, playing tennis, sliding down the homemade slip-n-slide outside their college apartments. My desires to "do something" were growing. And I was so glad to not be at work.

But then I got home and saw Ian sleeping, so tired from his cold, and not able to go for a run with me. Or even a walk. And his disability again freshly became mine. And I had to try to fight to let my desires to go out and enjoy something die.

This is what it's like to be married to someone with a tbi. I imagine it's the same for someone who is chronically sick, or has special needs, or who is dying. Their sickness becomes their spouses sickness. I have a brain injury, just like Ian. Because when we became one flesh, I gained his sorrows. Just as Jesus was a man of sorrows and has shared in them with us, I share them with Ian. And while it is a gift of marriage, it is painful and sad.

We could probably write a whole book on this topic alone. Because it changes everything about our life, even mine. But Jesus knows it more deeply than us, and if we can just rest there, we will be filled.

Thank you, always

Larissa

Disability Conference

Below is a conference that sounds good, and applicable.  This may be encouraging for any of you who have also been affected by disability.

Disability Conference

Enjoy
I&L

a birthday

love to my husband as he starts year 27. may it be filled with knowing god more deeply and sweetly.

Ian - I'm so grateful that you were born and that you continue to pursue god in the midst of severe affliction. You bring us much joy and bring god much glory.

Love to you always, Ian

Laris

when I would rather live in my dreams

He was the old Ian, talking constantly, walking, recounting tiny details of his day. He was telling me that over the past week, he was really disappointed that I hadn't bought any juice at the grocery store, because he was sick of water. And I was so happy.

And then I woke up, the dream ending, turning over in bed to see my disabled Ian. And as each time I have these dreams, I wake up to a reality that feels colder, sadder, and not as fun as my dreams. The healthy Ian slips back into the past and a fractured day follows, a result of the absolute strangeness of brain injuries. A strangeness that forces me to be in love with two versions of Ian.

Unfortunately, I don't know what to do with dreams that are happier than life. It's probably normal, but without getting into interpreting dreams which I've never loved to do, I fall short in understanding what god is doing in us while we sleep. If even the winds obey him, then surely my dreams do too. And that's where I get stuck - why would god give me little glimpses of life with Ian better, only to snap me back into sadness with my alarm?

I don't want to stay there, though. Instead, I'd rather think of these dreams as being preludes to heaven. That's the only place that I'm guaranteed to see healthy Ian. And that's where we will know happiness, fully.

Instead of dreading these dreams, maybe I should welcome them. Or, I can at least try.

Thank you, always

I&L

Things I don't like

I hate brain injuries. And cancer. And I hate that they will be a source of sadness for all of our days spent here.

But what I have to end on, even on the days that make even less sense than normal, is that "he lives that death may die." even if I were to spend all my days here trying to figure out this mess, someday, we'll both get to heaven. Because Jesus defeated death and took away its sting.

So on this easter, we're thankful that death has lost. And brain injuries and cancer will never make their way into heaven. We'll outrun them, in the end.

Thank you, always

I&L

Our little loves

So glad we get to be an aunt and uncle. And are looking forward to meeting Murphy baby #3 in may to Ben and Jan.

Thank you for your prayers