As an addendum to my emotionally-weary post of last night, and for the record, we are surrounded by good people. My parents, Jeremy’s parents, our beloved neighbors and friends, our church family — we appreciate them all. One of our friends, after helping install some hardware yesterday said the most supportive statement I’ve heard yet, “Liv, I’m going to help you obey your parents.” And today at a meeting for Zion’s Vacation Bible School, a small group of women gathered, all who are dealing with sleep issues similar to ours.
It is good to be supported. It is good to be among others walking the same path. It is good to be surrounded by good people. Thank you, dear good people of mine.
Things have been hard around here recently. Our church burned down — and now our congregation finds itself in an unexpected period of transition. Livia is rebelling against sleep and we’re rounding the corner on the third full week that her sleeping patterns are out of whack. Friends have moved away and I desperately miss their friendship, not to mention their little girls. Loved ones of friends and acquaintances have passed away in recent days. Things are kind of hard. And my heart is heavy with the emotional burden.
I’ve been reading Psalm 65, marked in my Bible with the words, “Zion Church, Summer ’97”:
Praise awaits you, O God, in Zion;
to you our vows will be fulfilled.
O you who hear prayer,
to you all men will come.
When we were overwhelmed by sins,
you forgave our transgressions.
Blessed are those you choose
and bring near to live in your courts!
We are filled with the good things of your house,
of your holy temple.
You answer us with awesome deeds
of righteousness,
O God our Savior,
the hope of all the ends of the earth…
While I long to help Livia sleep, there is little I can do to make her rest adequately. We’re in a fairly common stage and, with some wisdom and determination, we will see this phase cycle out in time. What I am facing is nothing compared to the heartache I imagine my friends, Steve and Jen Allen, are facing. Baby Amelia is terribly sick with an infection raging in her small body and I can only empathize in the slightest of ways how helpless Jen must feel to heal her little girl.
There is good news for all the heartache. We have a Savior who cares for us, who loves us so greatly he died for us. We have a God of hope, who generously gives us grace exactly when we need it. I ask God to give me patience and perseverance with Livia these days. I ask him to heal Amelia from this infection, from leukemia. Thanks, friends, for praying along with me.
“L-M-N-P-Q!”
Crash!
Laughter…
“R-K-M-T-V!”
Crash!
More giggles…
It’s Livia, standing in the middle of our bed, calling out letters as she sees them from a framed piece of artwork spelling “Tredway” on our bedroom wall. She spells victoriously, jumps high, and lands in a mess of arms and legs on the mattress. Then she gets up and does it again. And laughs even harder.
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, No more monkeys jumpin’ on the bed!
Before
After
The real AFTER shots are on my Flickr account now. Tonight the neighborhood looks and feels different. Somber seems to be an appropriate word.
* I have to note that I took the BEFORE pic awhile back. Check out the centrally located tree and see how it’s grown. Also, in the past few years we painted the front doors a maroon color and some shrubbery succumbed to some shrubbery-type death. Aside from that, the front of the building remained largely the same until last Saturday morning.
When you need a break from the dust of demolition and the fast-paced world of email, a little levity goes a long way. Perhaps that, plus the need to humble prideful adults, is why God gave us children.
I sure do love this kid.
The building of Zion Church, at 9th & D, is going to be demolished tomorrow around noon. See this press release for more details.
Right now I’m feeling pretty sick about all this. I haven’t written much on the blog because I’ve been working steadily on creating/adding content to the new website and taking care of tons of details related to church life. But the gist of my feelings tonight is this: I feel terrible about demolition. It’s like I’m burying an old friend or family member tomorrow at noon and right now I’m simply trying to memorize every wrinkle on his face or recall every time he did something kind for me.
The old church building feels like a friend and I keep telling this competely inanimate structure, “I’m so sorry,” as though I could’ve somehow prevented this disaster.
If I end up seeing my counselor anytime soon, I think she and I will have lots to talk about.
The new site went live this morning. Check it out at www.zionpca.com.
