a life of waiting. 

Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting.
Gabriel was supposed to have surgery tomorrow, but he had a fever Tuesday night-Friday and he still has a cough. His doctors are uncomfortable performing the surgery for at least 6 weeks after sickness, so we are waiting until January in order to allow for that time and celebrate the holidays. In these interim days, we will see how he does out of casts and in braces. If he does well, they may delay surgery even more. It’s another song in the lifelong dance of figuring out what is best for him.

Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting. Because his condition is possibly, at times the indication is probably, degenerative, we don’t know which systems are or could be affected. Someday, Gabe could lose more motor neuron function. He could no longer have certain sensations, or we could find a bodily system in decline. There’s so little we know at this point. So, we have to make decisions about surgeries, anesthesia, medications, so many things, recognizing that Gabe could have a weaker or, someday, a declining respiratory system.

Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting.

We are somewhat overwhelmed, but we are so very thankful for vigilant, thoughtful doctors. Many, in their kindness, their desire to understand, have asked how we feel. In a way, Eeyore-esque as it may sound, nothing feels different. Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting. This may be a different waiting, but it’s all just waiting, it’s all just a continual reminder that we are not in control, that sovereignty isn’t safety, that protection isn’t insulation.

Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting. All of life is a life of waiting. Our souls wait for the Lord and our minds wait for His wisdom and our ears wait for His voice, hearts wait for His comfort, spirits wait for His guidance.

Our life with Gabriel is a life of waiting, but our world before he entered it was filled with waiting too. Life with Jesus is a life of waiting. We wait for growth, we wait for renewal, we wait for Him to say, “enough!” and come rescue us. So I’m looking to Gabriel like an altar right now, like a memorial stone with me every day, reminding me that the waiting has always been here, will always be here, pulsating inside me, before Jesus returns. And perhaps we are some of the most fortunate ones, the ones with this blatant, visible reminder of the hope to come, of longing unfulfilled but not forever.

A life of waiting.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Author: Abby Perry

Abby has written for The Gospel Coalition, Christ and Pop Culture, Upwrite Magazine, and The Influence Network. She is the communications coordinator for a nonprofit organization and co-facilitates two community efforts—one promoting bridge-building racial reconciliation conversations and one supporting area foster and adoptive families. Abby graduated from Texas A&M University and currently attends Dallas Theological Seminary. She and her family live in College Station, Texas.

1 thought on “a life of waiting. ”

  1. I’ve never needed to hear something more than I needed to hear this right now. Thank you so much, Abby. Still praying for Gabriel, you and all your precious family.

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