MSB {24}: Temptation: Jesus-Style

Thanks for hosting, Rosie!

Me: David, will you grab the camera for My Sunday Best?
David:  Could I take a picture with you?
Me:  Okay…but who is going to take the picture?
Various Kids:  Me!  I’ll do it!  I want to take a picture!

We let them take turns.  This was the best shot.  Poor, decapitated David got his wish though.  We are in a picture together.

Dress, leggings, shoes:  Lands’ End
Husband:  1930

 

 

Last week I linked up to My Sunday Best.   Then through the week, things got really serious with our daughter Cee’s chronic illness.  Here’s what you missed, if you want to catch up:

She Will Not Get Better

A Flock of Questions

The Lenten Luck of a Serious Diagnosis

We travel up to Mayo at the end of next week for a couple days of further testing and appointments.  We honestly haven’t the foggiest where we’re going to be by this time next week.  It’s an uncomfortable place to be, this certainty of uncertainty.

All through the week I’ve vacillated between taking it all in stride and being a total puddle, terrified of what the future holds.

 

The readings today at Mass were about temptation.  Right now despair and fear are my biggest temptations.  The whispers of the serpent are hard to ignore.   After listening to a homily about the different temptations Jesus faced, I realized that all my whispers fall into a few general categories:

1. This is all your fault.

2. God doesn’t love you.

3. Better make the right decisions, or your incompetence will hurt/kill Cee.

 

It was a super helpful exercise to sit down and write out what those whispers are, because as they creep in, I think it’ll be easier to shut them down Jesus-style.  After thinking through all these whispers, now I can categorize and work on refusing to indulge them.

If only you had pushed harder for an MRI months ago, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.
(assuming the “talk to the hand” (TTTH) position)  Merrrrp*.  That’s just lie #1.

(*Merrrrp is a buzzer-y sound.  Like on a gameshow.)

Look at how innocent Cee is.  No loving God could cause that suffering.
(TTTH) Merrrrp.  That’s just lie #2.

Are you going to do joint injections?  Won’t that just cause more damage?  What about hip replacement?  That’s a major surgery.  How could you put Cee through that?  Plus, what’s going to happen with your other kids?  David’s job?  homeschooling?  during that recovery time?
(TTTH)  Merrrrp.  That’s just lie #3.

Thinking about the lie I’m being sold makes it easier to walk away from it.  What are the lies you’re being sold?

 

You will never be beautiful.

You are stupid.

No one likes you.

Everyone knows you’re a phony.

You will never amount to anything.

 

Those seem like some pretty common whisper categories that people face.  But they are lies, and the Gospel passage from Matthew today encourages us all to keep shutting down the lies, Jesus-style.

 

 

Talk to the hand, whispers, because I choose trust.

 

For me, trust is easier to have looking backwards.

When I look forward– that’s when those lies are loudest.  But looking backwards?

 

Looking backwards I can see how our story has unfolded in ways I never expected.  I can see how the bumps in the path led somewhere important.  Somewhere good.  I can see how listening to the lies only distracted me from doing what I need to do right now.

Cee is the epitome of trust.  We’ve explained to her what the MRI showed, how we’re doing more tests this week, and what some of the options might be.  She’s not worried.  She trusts us.  She knows that we love her, and we’ll get through this together,  She has no reason to think otherwise, because that’s how it’s always been.  She has faced pain and suffering before, and she knows she’ll get through it.

When I look backwards, I come to the same conclusion.  No matter the challenges we’ve faced, we’ve gotten through it.  Whatever this next chapter holds, we’ll get through it, too.  Trusting.  Refusing to listen to the lies.  Coming from a long line of worriers, this is no small task.

 

Talk to the hand, whispers, because I choose trust.

 

We do need to think about our options.  To ask questions. To go into next week with our eyes and ears open in order to choose the best path for Cee.  We do need to talk about our worries and our fears.  Giving voice to our fears makes it possible to recognize whether they are rooted in lies or truth.  But we will not get stuck in the trap those lies can become.

 

Talk to the hand, whispers, because we choose trust.

 

Cee decided to try out her “opera voice” at Mass today when we were singing the Our Father.  I stopped it with a quick sideways glance because I didn’t want her to be a distraction, but it was a pretty good indicator of the lack of stress she’s feeling right now.  “Our Fatherrrrrrrrrr…”  Yup.  She and her vibrato are doing just fine.

This week I’ll fight the urge to withdraw into a closet of worry and fear.  I’ll let the kids paint and play out in the mud if it’s warm enough.  And we’ll sing in our opera voices.   Because we choose trust.

 

 

(If you want to get updates on how next week goes, you can follow along on Bloglovin, or enter your email in the box under the “Welcome!” at the top of the page. )