The Silent Battle of our Soul

 

A few days ago, my three-year-old asked for some fruit.  I willingly gave him one piece of fruit; however, he was not content with one piece.  I denied him any additional fruit, and immediately a battle started.  He was bitter and resentful, and threw a tantrum before me. He yelled at me that one piece of fruit wasn’t enough.  He wanted more.  What should have been a piece of fruit he received with joy and gratitude turned into something full of bitterness and resentment, and for a while afterward, he was angry at me, his father, for only giving him one piece of fruit instead of more.

Any parent of a toddler has been in this situation before.  Toddlers are wonderful, but they lack their parents’ foresight, and they often start a battle over things their parents can see are in their best interest.

Last week Samuel had a few days where he was completely cognitive again.  I could see that the fog had lifted from his mind, and we got to have our Samuel back!  He was so joyful and lively, and we spent those three days watching him run around in circles, bounce off the walls, and listen to Raffi on repeat…over…and over…and over again!  There was a lot of joy in our home for those days. 

On Saturday, in the middle of the day, while Samuel was listening to his music and having such a great time, he had a grand mal seizure.  He immediately collapsed to the ground, cutting his lip on the kitchen counter on the way down.  Typically these seizures only happen to him during the night while he’s sleeping, and there have only been a couple other instances where it’s happened abruptly during the day like this.  His joyful cognition came to an abrupt end, and after the worst of his seizure was over, we saw the fog descend back down upon him.  Once again, we had lost our son.

Once I witnessed this, a battle within my soul began.  I was bitter and resentful, and threw a tantrum before God.  I cried out to Him that those three days weren’t enough.  I wanted more.  In pain, I asked how much more grief was He going to make me endure.  What should have been three days I received with joy and gratitude turned into something full of bitterness and resentment, and for a while afterward, I was angry at God, my Father, for only giving me three days with my Samuel instead of more.

As time passed, I realized I lacked my Father’s foresight, and started a battle over things I couldn’t see were in my best interest. 

A prominent leader in my church once said: “The greatest battle of life is fought within the silent chambers of your own soul.” 

This experience of watching Samuel lose his cognition again, and the battle within my soul it caused, made me realize that in any circumstance we find ourselves in, whether we aren’t given as much fruit as we want, or as many days with our son as we want, the silent battle within our soul can be boiled down to two choices: 

We can choose to be bitter, or we can choose to be grateful.

Fortunately, my bitterness has passed, and has been replaced with gratitude.  I am grateful for the three days I was given with Samuel.  I am grateful for all the amazing things I’ve seen as I’ve watched Samuel bring so much love and joy into the hearts of those he interacts with, and I am grateful for the grief I’ve experienced, and the joy and empathy that grief has brought.  Most of all, I’m grateful for a Father in Heaven who knows what I need and what my Samuel needs better than I do. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,”  and I will praise His name forever.