Thankful for Silver Linings

An Update and Reflection

Photo by fabian jones on Unsplash

I can still hear my dad saying, “Jeannie Ann, always look for the silver linings.” His words are deeply embedded in my soul and have helped me through many difficult times. Our current circumstances are no exception. But the silver linings this past week have been almost too numerous to track. Before I head to bed, it feels important to make a list.

• The insurance approval for the liver transplant evaluation came through and the team moved forward from stabilization to full transplant evaluation. They will leave no stone unturned and I am confident that the transplant team will make the correct choice to place or not place Scott on the transplant list. I understand the factors that determine this, and what will and will not be in our control. I have peace.

• The level of care at the University of Washington Medical Center is stunning. Efficient, kind, thorough, and transparent. The care of staff and doctors has been a balm to both of us after wandering about for months without answers.

• My husband is my hero. I cannot imagine facing the constant testing, prodding, poking, blood draws, questions, and instructions with the unbelievable level of fatigue he is experiencing. He is determined to show them that he wants to live and will do whatever that takes. After two very debilitating and depressing months, to see him emerge with determination is an amazing thing.

• I have had so many offers to help me and when I can find a way to accept that help, I do. Going to the hospitality hotel at the end of the day is a much-needed rest, and I am grateful for the help I have received to do this.

• Finally, last but not least—at all—there is my family. My children trade off helping us since one is closer to the hospital and the other is closer to our home. Seeing them love their dad is a beautiful thing. Tonight, Scott’s brother and my sister-in-law visited Scott and brought me what I needed for the rest of the week since we will be staying longer than I anticipated.

A bit of reflection

Some experiences in life transform us if we allow them to. This is certainly one of those for me. I thought that I had done all the transforming one human could accomplish over the past ten years, but now I understand there is no transformation limit. Unless we limit ourselves.

Healing from the impact of childhood trauma takes a toll and in many ways requires us to go back to the beginning of our life and “re-grow” ourselves. We emerge healthier, and with better tools to navigate life—but rebuilding strength for life’s challenges takes time. The strength is there but is different because it is no longer driven by trauma responses.

It takes time to become the person we were meant to be. Sometimes this process gets a fast-forward by facing something that seems impossible to navigate. It is like pottery that needs time in a kiln. I sense every day that I am in the kiln and that I will emerge much stronger and “finished.” Whatever that means.

God did not place us in this situation nor bring it upon us to bring something to fruition. I believed that once, but no longer. God saw this kiln coming and helped me heal and prepare myself for levels of stress I couldn’t imagine. God is in the kiln with me, walking beside me, strengthening me . . . and helping me watch for the silver linings to this unexpected dark cloud in our lives.