I think a lot of this comes from working with little kids for as long as I have (and loving every minute of it.) It comes from hours of M&M's for peeing on the potty, stickers for following directions, and my own inherent belief that people, especially children, do things they are motivated to do, and you cannot expect children to suddenly want to behave really well.
I am a negotiator as a therapist. I negotiate free time, favorite games, use of the trampoline, and gummy bears for trying new things, working really hard, or any other skill that is particularly difficult for a child. I want my patients to understand that I value their opinions and preferences, but I want to prepare them for the world that surrounds them. I understand that life is hard and I value their hard work. I want them to know I see them. If you do it long enough, this usually works with kids. The depths of your relationship, trust, and love can help kids to want to be the best they can be because they want to do what makes you happy. In turn, your desires are what really makes them the happiest too, and everyone wins.
This negotiating strategy, however, that works so well in one of the most important parts of my life, is one of my biggest struggles with God. And it isn't a new struggle.
I remember standing in a Wal-Mart alone two months after Brenna died. I was sobbing because I was having a party for all my friends before going off to college, and while I was shopping the thought crossed my mind that I needed to get water because Brenna didn't drink pop. And I stood there and marveled at (what felt like then) my stupidity. How could my subconscious just do that? Like, hey, internal self, aren't you paying attention? She's been gone for two months. She isn't coming to the party. I stood in Wal-Mart and cried. I told God I would buy all the bottled water if he would just give her back to me. If he would take all this pain away from my friends and me. I would buy it all. But He didn't listen.
I often find myself negotiating with other, more fleeting, situations in life. I will never do X again if I can ace this test. I will pay X amount of money to not be sick tomorrow. I will take up X hobbies if you can promise me, God, that I can get married someday. A more recent one... If I pray X amount of minutes or hours a day, this should be the outcome.
And my most recent one.. God I will give up everything I've ever wanted, all the money in the world, and spend the rest of my life being sick if you will just take it away from my sweet Emma. If you will let her be a normal first grader, run and play with her friends, attend her dance recitals, and never make her miss a day of school again for anything other than a runny nose, you can have everything I own and have ever wanted. I want to love her hard enough that I can take it all away. As someone who has barely known her two years, I can't imagine what it must feel like to have the kind of love that her family and close friends have for her. I love that little girl more than life itself and I have negotiated everything I possibly can with God, but I'm starting to sense a pattern.
I'll give you a hint: the pattern is that there is no pattern. There is no recipe, instruction booklet, or informational pamphlet on how to dictate what God will do. Your prayers, your sacrifices, your love, and your anger will not give a clear reasoning and path on the outcome that God gives. For people who are nonbelievers, this is a tough one to understand. Why should I pray if my God isn't going to fix my problems? Processing my own negotiation strategy throughout these cycles of waiting to hear how Emma's scans go has taught me a few things.
1. If believing in God, praying enough, loving enough, or giving enough, assured that I would never have problems in life, what sense of security would the simple presence of Jesus bring me?
If I was able to pray ten times a day and take away the chronic pain that hinders my mom, to give all my money to pediatric cancer research and heal Emma, or love those around me enough that God would have woken me up and Brenna's death would have just been a nightmare, I would need an instruction manual, not a living, breathing, lifesaving Christ. And what's more, that living, breathing, lifesaving Christ could not bring me peace. He would not be as extraordinary if all he did was solve the problems I thought I had. Most of all, how could I ever know the depths of how much I love that little girl if I never had the opportunity to see her go through trial?
2. The complications of this world don't turn me away from Jesus, they point me to Him.
It's common and sometimes very simple for people to say that they just can't believe in God after a certain event happens to them. Everyone views things differently and makes peace with things in their own way. For me, the complications of this world are what drives me to need Jesus. I cannot spend the rest of my life living in a world where I have to wonder why someone wanted to kill my friend. I can't spend the rest of my life living in a world wondering what Brenna and Luke would have done with their lives. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering why my precious girl and her amazing family go through so much. I can't wonder why there are school shootings, drug overdoses, and amazing 'good guys' in all parts of the world who don't always win their personal battle. I don't believe in Christ because I'm strong, I believe in Him because I'm weak.
3. I don't actually want to know it all.
During Emma's January trip to Boston I was texting her mom because they had some sad news on that trip too (if my memory serves me correctly). We got to talking about what a special little girl Emma is and how she impacts those around her. Part of their blog update at that time was the difficulty it is as Emma gets older to see her do less 'normal' things - things as simple and running on the playground with her friends. I reminded her that if Emma had never been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and that if their family hadn't gone through the worst thing any family should ever go through, Emma and I would never have met, because she wouldn't be in a special needs dance class. I know I'm qualifying, negotiating, and doing all the things here I said I wouldn't do - but I would absolutely give up knowing Emma if it meant her being healthy. But I know that just isn't how it works. As much as I can tell God over and over that her health is more important to me than any other negotiation I can give him, I'm starting to realize it brings me the most peace to continue to pray for what I want, but to also look for the ways that a bad circumstance has dropped blessings. If I was in control of every situation or decision that impacted my life, I sure would be missing out. There are so many times when I get to say "I'm so glad God didn't give me everything I ever wanted."
The picture at the bottom of this blog is a photo taken in Hong Kong on our trip in 2015. Being in a traditional temple was definitely an experience. I remember feeling overwhelmed at the 'darkness' that somehow surrounded me. I wanted to keep Chloe and Izzy close to me and protect them from something I couldn't see, only sense. It was heartbreaking and exhausting to walk through the temple and realize that people truly purchased and offered these sacrifices for their peace, their health, their finances, and the food on their table. I'm so thankful I serve a God who does not negotiate.
One of my current favorite songs is called Dream Small, by Josh Wilson. It's been a favorite for a few months and I think I've written about it before, but ironically, I got hooked on it when I heard it on the drive home from Omaha one weekend. I caught the song in the middle and one of the lines is 'dancing on a Friday with your friend with special needs'. I smiled to myself as I heard the line and I fell in love with the song over the next 90 seconds. True to it's name, the song stresses the importance of dreaming small and enjoying the little things in life.
Over time I hope that my small dreams become prayers. There's an importance and a necessity in asking for big things from God, but that's really a separate blog post. Praying for Emma's healing, my mom's chronic pain, my friends in Hong Kong who do not know Christ - takes courage because I know those things are completely out of my control. But praying for it in addition to other things is harder. I would never want God to say 'she's stopped asking for this big thing, that must mean she doesn't want it anymore'. I'm learning to trust that isn't the case. God knows I want Emma's health more than anything, but I also want things for her that involve her being sick. I want her family to lead those around them to Christ through their circumstance, which I know they do. I want her to have the opportunity to meet life changing therapists, doctors, and nurses because of her diagnosis, and I know she does. (Anisa, I know you're out there. I know nothing about you except your name and that Emma thinks you're perfect and you make coming to the hospital a much better experience.) I want her brothers to be more empathetic, kind, and compassionate because of their sister, and I know they already are.
I'll never stop believing and praying that a totally and completely clean scan is the best thing that could ever happen to Emma, because she deserves the entire world after all she's been through. But I'm getting the vibe that God isn't going to take my negotiations for her, so I need to change my viewpoint. I am realizing that for me, negotiations are a lack of my trust that God is all knowing, all powerful, and inherently Good.
God allows us to have trials so that someday, He can see us again and be able to say "Well done, good and faithful servant." - one of the most comforting passages for me at the end of Luke and Brenna's time on earth. I'll leave you with a quote I read last night that has stuck with me. I'm not sure of it's author, but just know it wasn't me. 😊
"I asked God to take away my habit. God said, No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give up.
I asked God to make my handicap child whole. God said, no. His Spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience. God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.
I asked God to give me happiness. God said, No. I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain. God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow. God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked God for things I might enjoy in life. God said, No. I give you life so that you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me love others as much as He loves me. God said Ah, finally, you have the idea."
