It was one of those days. I thought it would be pretty easy to handle, but it wasn’t exactly what I had imagined.
John and I had been at Duke the past two days for my bi-weekly treatments to fight my chronic transplant rejection, a monthly breathing test, and a visit with the doctor. Everything checked out, and my situation remained stable. But for some reason, I felt sad. I couldn’t put my finger on what triggered this sadness, yet it was there.
I took a deep breath and told myself, “I got this!” Then I carried on.
On this day, we attended our son-in-law’s father’s memorial service. The service was about two hours away from our home. As we traveled the busiest portion of the interstate, I noticed my anxiety lurking in the shadows, but it seemed to subside as we continued the journey.
When we arrived at the funeral home, because I’m immunocompromised, it struck me that I should keep my distance from others. Since our son-in-law was engaging the guests, I couldn’t greet him personally.
Then I considered the seating situation. I knew I needed to stay distanced, so we chose to sit in the back of the room.
And just like that, tears began to fill my eyes. The thoughts of everything that had changed since the beginning of 2020 led me to leave the room to gather up my broken pieces.
As I stood in the hall peering out the window, I took another deep breath, spoke those encouraging words to myself again, “I got this!” and returned to the memorial area.
As the service continued, memories of how close I was to death banged on the doors inside my mind. I thought I had locked those thoughts away for the day, yet there they were, demanding to be seen.
I watched and listened as the pastor spoke kind words about this man I had only met once. I considered what would’ve been said about me had God called me home instead of gifting me with a life-saving miracle.
“What will be said when my day comes?” I wondered.
I watched and listened as John’s daughter battled her heartache as she sang Amazing Grace. And then, I wondered how John would have dealt with letting me go.
I watched and listened as our son-in-law shared his feeling about his father in words broken with emotions. I thought about what my daughters would have gone through if I hadn’t survived; how they would’ve had to say goodbye in a room similar to where we were sitting.
I fought back more tears and thanked the Lord that I was alive and my family didn’t have to face what my mind was envisioning.
Our drive home was similar to the drive up, only the traffic was heavier, and my anxiety was at its peak. That’s when I realized, “I don’t got this!”
I went to bed with a heavy heart, reminiscing about what could have been and what used to be and contemplating why life is the way it is now. I finally drifted to sleep without a conclusion.
However, when I awoke the following morning, God reminded me of the verse He has given me countless times throughout the past two years:
Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
So, here I am again, coming to terms with the fact that there are more “I don’t got this” moments in my life now. But that’s okay because God’s got this.
We don’t have to have it all under control because God does. Every second of every day is under His loving watch and He cares deeply about his children. He will protect us even throughout our most challenging days.
On the days when we can admit “I don’t got this,” we’re given the opportunity to allow God to strengthen us, help us, and uphold us.
And there is no better place to be than in His righteous right hand!
So, let’s tighten our grips on the cross and say to ourselves, “I don’t got this, but I won’t fear because God does.”
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