{CONTENT WARNING: Strong language and raw subject.}

In my little world, I had a list.  It was a list of things I was convinced I could not do without.  My Kryptonite List contained what would destroy me if it was taken away or was harmed.  The list included people and situations.

Once I was defined by my work.  I sacrificed everything for years before realizing work is a means to an end.  It’s not the means or the meaning for life.  Scratch that from the list.

Church was my end all and be all.  Who I was in the pews or on the platform mattered more than anything.  That is until it didn’t matter as much as marriage, sanity and safety.  Check that one off.

My children were everything.  Identity, self-esteem, self-worth all wrapped up in little wiggly bodies gnoshing on mac-n-cheese.  Until mental illness, insidiously connected to mothering through postpartum depression, taught me I was still a distinct human being from these creatures.  They needed me whole and my job was to help them remain whole.  Check.

My dad was my safety net, my rock, the mirror in which I could peer and see good things every time.  As he took his last shuddering breath, he left my list.

One of the only pieces of kryptonite remaining for me was my husband.  Big, goofy, funny, smarter than anyone, and a good guy, that’s my husband.  He stayed on the list because he chose me.  When we were dating and I went through a dark time, he stuck around and married me anyway.  Postpartum, situational poverty, job loss, death, he was there.  Until now.

A few days ago the kids called me at work and said dad wasn’t moving and was on the stairs.  They were trapped upstairs.  I raced out of the building to find him there, the kid’s terrified eyes staring at me.

I called 911 when he couldn’t make eye contact with me or respond.  I called a friend who is familiar with medical emergencies to get the kids.

His blood sugar was 28.  Normal is 70.  He was minutes from a coma.  The doctor said I saved his life by calling the ambulance.

Three days later, he is still in the hospital.  They have theories on what is wrong, but they can’t confirm anything.  We simply don’t know why his body produces so much insulin that he needs to be on two IVs with glucose to be close to normal.

I’m alone with the kids and I don’t know from day-to-day what will happen.  People keep asking, “How are you?”  I can’t say what I really want to.

I’m pissed off.  Seriously? After EVERYTHING we have been through?

I’m scared.  What will I do to get through the days alone?

I’m sad.  I recently was praying for a breakthrough in our lives.  I got an ambulance.

I literally can’t walk.  How can I heal my ankle when I have to navigate a two-story house and two active little fellas?

My husband is now off my list.   There is nothing left on it.  I need to figure out how to get rid of my Kryptonite list.  I’m thinking I need to replace it with something a little more positive.

Tonight here is where I am starting.

James 1:2-4 (AMP)

² Consider it wholly joyful, my brethren, whenever you are enveloped in or encounter trials of any sort or fall into various temptations.

³ Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and steadfastness and patience.

⁴ But let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing.”

I want to lack in nothing.  I don’t want to stand in the way as these times do their thorough work for my full development.  Though I am angry, sad, scared and most definitely alone and hurting, I refuse for this to be for nothing.

Tonight as I ache at this life which has chosen me, I make a choice.  I’ll take God up on his offer from James 1.  I’ll let this situation do it’s work.  I’ll pray more than I ever have.  I’ll love God more even though I am mad at Him.

Maybe soon I’ll have a different list, one with miracles on it.  Earlier I saw my first entry.  Tonight I stood in the corner and watched my husband with our sons.  Though tired and uncomfortable, he was giggling with them at goofy YouTube videos.   Love and laughter might be the antidote to my kryptonite.