The Worst Cliche Ever

"God won't give you anything you can't handle."

I despise that statement. If you have said these words to me, I've probably smiled politely and just nodded my head. I've only ever addressed my real feelings for these words to Channing. Lets just say he wasn't expecting my response.

I know that most of the time this is used in conversation, it's used to be a comfort. A way to explain the unexplainable. But friends, it is not comforting.  That is the last thing that a person in the midst of a trial wants to hear. When you are struggling with helplessness, no sense of control, completely overcome by the winds of a particular storm, you DO NOT want to hear that you are just suppose to handle it. Maybe it doesn't come across to everyone the way it does me. Maybe some of you do find comfort in this statement. I don't. For me, when this is said, it's putting our God in box. Limiting His abilities, fitting your definition of Him into what you think will make you comfortable. Putting your own perceived strength above what He provides for you.

The most important lesson I've learned this year, is that I have no strength. I can not handle anything on my own. Every single moment of difficulty I was faced with this year, my first thought was "I can't do this." Then I came around to, "OK, I have to do this." So I tried. I did everything I knew to do. Guess what... My strength, my abilities, were not enough. I sure tried. I tried to hold everyone together. I tried to keep my sanity. I tried not to let everyone see how distraught I was. I'm a great actress. For about 8 months I had everyone fooled. It all came crashing down in September, when Channing got sick.

We were in the ER in Jackson. It was chaos. He was in more pain that anyone I've ever seen. I was alone. His family was in the waiting room, but I was with him in the back. I had to communicate with the doctors because he couldn't. There was nothing I could do but stand, watch, and answer questions. I have never felt more useless in my life. We were there for hours. Somewhere during this, my pastor called. He had heard where we were, and wanted to check on me. At the end of the conversation, he told me how proud he was of me for handling things the way I had. That I had done so well, and what a testament it was to everyone watching. When we hung up, I lost it. He had no clue. He had no idea that I wasn't handling things. I was dangling by a thread. I wasn't handling anything, and sure didn't want anyone to know it, but I felt so guilty that I let everyone believe this. I desperately wanted to call him back, to beg for some advice, but my pride wouldn't let me. I cleaned up my face, took a deep breath, and walked back in Channing's room, still telling myself I could handle it.

Fast forward about 10 days. Different ER, same scene. This time though, I've been pushed out of the room. I'm watching five different people work on my husband. I'm standing behind sliding glass doors. It's like a scene out of a movie. There was nothing I could do. It was quite literally taken out of my hands. I finally started praying. I don't even remember what the prayer was, I just remember it being a desperate plea to make it all stop. We made it through that day. Things were starting to change in my heart. I remember driving back to Greenwood to get the kids settled. I called a close friend, and cried and yelled most of the way home. I was angry, I was exhausted, I was confused, and I was hurting. I don't remember much about what she said to me. I just remember her saying she was praying for strength. God will get you through this.

Fast forward one more time, about 8 weeks now. Channing has recovered from gall bladder surgery and the shingles. Hannah Grace has recovered from the chicken pox. We've gone through extensive testing to find out why she's sick. We've now seen an immunology specialist because we know something is wrong with her immune system, we just don't know what. It could be minor, it could be major. She has stayed sick for about two solid months. I'm struggling with whether or not to take her out of school. I have finally found the end of my rope. I have nothing left to give. I've done every single thing I've been told to do for her for more than two years now. Nothing I've done has worked. I feel a helplessness and a fear I never thought possible. It's a Tuesday night, I'm alone in my living room. I was catching up on my Bible Study and reading through some verses some of the girls had sent to me. I started to cry. I was finally broken. I hit my knees, because I could no longer hold myself up, and I begged God to take control. I begged for forgiveness for resisting for so long. I finally gave it all over to Him. I finally laid it all at His feet. I finally acknowledged that I have no strength, only what He gives me each day.

I finally felt free. I finally felt peace. I finally understood what it meant to give God control. I thought I had believed it before. I'd heard testimony from so many others, but I'd never been tested like this before. So, if you told me that "God won't give you anything you can't handle", you were wrong. He had to give me something I couldn't handle. He had to make me trust Him. He had to make me completely helpless with no options left of my own. It's the only way I would learn. It was the only way I would grow and become closer to Him. We have to be stretched and molded, constantly taught new lessons. If we aren't, how are we ever to to recognize His greatness? We must always acknowledge how helpless we really are. Every gift we have, every ounce of strength we feel, it is all from Him.  The Lord answered my prayer in a mighty way that next morning. We got a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and a timeline for everything to take place. We have been supported and loved by friends and family. I haven't been as resistant to help as I was. I am thankful for the lessons, even though they were so difficult.

I'm finally ok with knowing I can not handle anything. I'm ok with letting God have everything. I know I'll still stumble. I know I will still need to be reminded. I hope you, my friends, will do that for me.