And after the fire came a gentle whisper

There's a quiet lie many of us believe without realizing it: real faith never waivers. That if you truly believe, you will always be confident, secure and steady. Yet, that is not the reality. We have moments of uncertainty, we question God's plan, we lose sight of the goodness of God.

Tuesday, February 3, both my son and husband told me they weren't feeling well. My son had a 102' fever. The low-level anxiety I was already carrying with me, began to build. Not this week I tell them. Of all weeks - please not this week! 

For over three months, I had been awaiting this week with anticipation and so much uncertainty. Early Wednesday morning, before the sun came up, I was hitting the road for three days at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. The purpose: testing to see if I could qualify as a living kidney donor. 

God had been planting kidney donation on my heart in unique ways for who knows just how long, but as the testing dates approached, I realized just how convicted and determined I had become. For someone who has been blessed with good health, the medical field is something I rarely have engaged with. Reviewing the upcoming list of 17 appointments, I worried that a virus running through the house could derail everything. Sleep evaded me at times on Tuesday night, knowing I'd be up early and thinking about the days ahead. 

I arrived at Mayo unsure of what to expect. I'd heard all the phrases - top-notch, world class facilities, best at what they do - and I was excited to experience this firsthand. I was also keenly aware that I had reached a stage of the process where the outcomes of these appointments could be life-changing.

The care and compassion were unlike anything I'd experienced in a medical setting. In order to be a living donor, Mayo does a complete workup of your physical health - numerous labs, kidney function test, CT angiogram, chest X-rays, ECG, 24-hr urine collection test, 24-hr blood pressure test, meetings with a nurse coordinator, Nephrologist and a transplant surgeon. In addition, social work and donor advocate appointments to ensure there would be no impact on finances, you're not being coerced into donating, and that ones mental health wouldn't be affected if approved to donate. 

At one of Wednesday's appointments I was given a 24-hr blood pressure monitor. This gosh awful machine - with a cuff strapped to your arm  - takes readings every 10 minutes and then it was kind enough to go off every 20 mins from 10pm-7am. That meant Wednesday night brought very little sleep. Thursday I was again awake well before the sun rose. 

Blood pressure reading.

Appointments. 

Blood pressure reading. 

Lunch.

Blood pressure reading. 

Around 11am Thursday - with three and a half more hours to go of the 24 test - I started to feel mentally fatigued. And that is when the devil masquerading as fear shows up. Not as a big boisterous monster, but as a voice - quiet, familiar, convincing. 

Blood pressure reading. 

He whispers half-truths and lies. In moments of weakness and mental drain, those words distort reality just enough to feel believable. 

"You're failing this test." 

"It's going to go off again in a few minutes, you better not be stressed or you'll fail this."

Blood pressure reading. 

 "Of all the tests you can control, it's this one and you're going to screw it all up. All of it." 

"If you fail this, all the rest of the tests don't matter." 

Blood pressure reading. 

Those 3 1/2 hours felt like an eternity. I tried deep breathing. I tried calming the racing mind. I listened to peaceful music between appointments. 

Blood pressure reading. 

When 2:30 p.m. finally arrived and I could turn the monitor in, there was immense relief - paired with much anguish as I would have to await the results.

Because I didn't want to miss my son's senior night at hockey, I drove the hour and a half home, allowing the negative thoughts to retreat like the tide. But on my drive back to Mayo afterwards, the waves began to swell - crashing in like a hurricane. Physically and mentally drained as the thoughts became even more convincing. 

"You didn't do enough." 

"You screwed that test up." 

"You failed it!" 

"It's shameful you destroyed those expectations of your recipient." 

"Why would God bring me on this path and then I fail this." 

"What am I to learn from this?"

Tears fell for all the failure, disappointment, hopelessness, and defeat I felt. Holding onto a string of hope, I prayed for God's will to prevail and the outcome was in His hands. Trying to find the faith I had lost in all the lies and waited for sleep to come. 

My first appointment Thursday was with a hypertension nurse. I interrupted the usual, "Hi, how are you..." banter with an, "Oh my gosh, I'm so nervous. I think I failed the blood pressure test! Did I fail that test?!" He calmly looked up the results and said, "No! You are just fine. You passed and everything looks great. The numbers are excellent!" Holding back the tears of relief and realizing the lies I believed were all fruitless because they weren't truths of God. 

I had a few minutes until the next appointment so I sat in the lobby reflecting and humbling myself. And that's when I began to see that God is in all the small details. We just over look and discredit them. He was there with me thru all my angst just waiting for me to turn back to Him. 

I immediately recognize the tune being played on the piano. The old hymn On Eagles Wings. What's beautiful is the piano is open to all, and at any time, people randomly sit down and share their gift of music. It creates a serene environment where people stop and soak it in. The lyrics come to mind, "You need not fear the terror of the night...He will hold you in the palm of His hand." I am reminded of my prayers the night before and of my dear friend who was my lighthouse in the dark. I am reminded that this isn't really my will, but His. This day, this journey, this life, is all held in His Hands. Who am I to think I can control an outcome? Who am I to put my faith in things of this world and lose sight of a God who holds it all together? But mostly, I am reminded of a God who meets us in our uncertainty with presence. Not with lectures, or ultimatums, or shame, but with Himself. 

Maybe sometimes faith is a loud confidence. 

Maybe sometimes faith is a whisper.

And maybe sometimes faith is a prayer in the night holding onto a little string of hope. 

“After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” 1 Kings 19:12 

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Humbled by His goodness, 

Katie