365 Days

31,536,000 seconds
525,600 minutes
8,760 hours
365 days
52 weeks
12 months

ONE YEAR.  Countless heartbeats.  Fast, slow, erratic.  Emotions brimming.  Fear, anger, hope, joy.  Sometimes calm.  Sometimes hysterical.  Sometimes happy.  Sometimes sad.  Sometimes angry.  Mostly grateful.

I wish I could say I've handled everything gracefully, but that would be a big, fat LIE.  Felled frequently by exhaustion, my most faithful companion, I look and feel tired.  Stopped in my tracks by arrhythmias and dizziness that consistently remind me that things are not quite right with the old ticker. Ocular migraines alter my vision almost weekly and sometimes I get so short of breath I wonder if I'm going back into heart failure. In those moments I find myself clinging to Jesus for my next breath.  To combat all of these symptoms I need a lot of sleep and a lot of downtime, but I rarely get either.  There are nights when my heart rate drops so low that I fear it will simply stop beating.  Those are the nights I  plead with God for one more day, ever mindful that only HE knows the length of my time on this earth.

Now that I have a 36 mm piece of Nitinol (Titanium/Nickel) in the middle of my heart I notice every flutter, squeeze or arrhythmia.  For many months it felt like my heart was trying to squeeze the device out of me.  Laying on my left side brought an uncomfortable sensation that would startle me awake every night.  Needless to say, I learned very quickly not to sleep on my left side!  One thing I've learned about my particular heart defect is that the outcomes are much better for the younger crowd and/or those with smaller holes.  I don't fit into either category and I'm not gonna lie, that is a bit disconcerting.  And knowing that I was diagnosed with this defect as a baby, but was never treated and never told about it can sometimes paralyze me as I struggle with the permanent damage to my body.  It's hard not to wonder what might have been "if only"........ 

Fast forward to the start of 2018.  It looked promising.  Although POTS was still rearing its very ugly head and heart issues still plagued me, I was hopeful that things would improve.  Until January 27.  That is the day we discovered that my dad had experienced a few heart attacks sometime in the recent past.  Three days later my mother had a stroke.  Then my dad had open heart surgery.  And then my mom spent six weeks in rehab, angrily I might add.  And then I almost had my own heart attack because of all of the stress.  

As I write this, one year after my own heart surgery, trudging through the thick mud of my parents' recoveries, figuring out how to love and honor them instead of living in bitterness over their failures with my own health, I instead find myself living a new normal. Learning how to lovingly take care of them and my own fragile health.  Learning how lean hard into forgiveness.  Learning to put this Humpty-Dumpty life back together again.  God is so patient, merciful and gracious as I clumsily try to fit each piece back into place.  It's like a really tedious puzzle with a million pieces that would challenge even the best puzzler.  Some of the pieces changed and simply do not fit right anymore.  Some pieces grew, making for a tight fit (kind of like my jeans lately), but it stretches me in good ways (better ways than I stretch my jeans.)  Some pieces shrunk exposing gaps, but it's okay because those pieces were taking up too much space, besides, the pieces that grew will fill in the blank spaces.  Some pieces shattered into tiny shards, making it hard to find them, those buggers take a lot of time and effort to repair and place in the proper spot.  Other pieces stayed exactly as they were, which could be good and could be bad, only time will tell.  Then there is the problem with the picture that no longer matches the front of the puzzle box.  It looks nothing like it. Not even close.  It  is frustrating to put the puzzle together when the picture doesn't match but it is turning out to be okay.  I'm learning to focus on the most important pieces and not worry about the rest of them.

Through it all God has blessed me with amazing friends who show up for crisis after crisis, stick around in the hard times, forgive my failures, love me even when I'm a brat, AND offer wise counsel and heartfelt prayers.  Who could hope for more?  They are the hands and feet of Jesus when I can't figure out what to do next.  They are part of the reason I am not (yet) insane.

Looking back I think I should be depressed or something, but I'm actually really happy and at peace because through it all my faith has deepened and I have seen God show up in the most beautiful ways.  He keeps reminding me that  HE is THERE in the middle of the mess.  Picking up the broken pieces.  Lovingly putting me back together to reveal a more beautiful picture than what I could ever hope to create.  He is proving that even when life is hard, circumstances are impossible and people disappoint me, HE WILL NOT FAIL ME.  His reasons for affliction may not make sense to me, but he never lets me go.  He never stops proving his deep love for me.  He never stops revealing new things about his character.  He never stops offering me mercy and grace despite my sin.  Despite my failures.  Despite my anger.  He goes into the depths of despair with me AND to the top of the mountain.  He is worthy of worship in both places and as I know from experience, the richness of our relationship is directly related to the affliction.  Suffering, pain, wounding, those all reveal my need for a savior and lead me to the only safe place where my heart is free.  Looking back, I can see every scar from the last 365 days, but they have never looked so beautiful to me.