It is 6:30 am and I am drowsily in bed after hearing my husband’s alarm sound and him rising from the bed.  I am trying to go back to sleep when I hear the odd resonance of flesh slapping against a tile floor and an eerie noise that sounds like something hitting a hollow-core door.  It doesn’t register at first…oh, he must have dropped something, his hair dryer maybe, but that doesn’t make sense.  He has not been in the bathroom long enough to be at the stage where he would be drying his hair.  A low moan follows.  No, these are not rational sounds.  I sprint to the bathroom to find him trying, but not succeeding, to stand up.

The Caregiver in me takes over.  I know how to do this; I have done it before.  Speak firmly and succinctly in a clear, authoritative voice.  Get him all the way down on the floor.  On his back.  Cushion his head with my hand as I coach him to lower it to the floor.  Tell him firmly, “Don’t move, I am going to get a pillow.”  Retrieve a pillow from the bed; carefully place it under his head.  Keep talking to him to try and bring him back to full consciousness.  Watch as the color rises from his neck to his face to the top of his head.  Push back the memories triggered.  Focus.  Think as clearly as possible.  Try to figure out what to do next.  EMT?  No.  At least, not yet.  He is conscious.  He is making sense.  No apparent injuries.  No pain.

Wednesday morning for me, an uncomfortably familiar day.  I bury one husband after 2½ years as his primary caregiver.  Sudden changes in his health.  Falls at home and other places.  ER visits.  Hospital stays.  This husband, this day…urgent care, ambulance ride, AFib diagnosis, overnight hospital stay.  Only this time I am an observer, from a distance.  No entrance into urgent care or the hospital because of THE VIRUS. Pass a plastic bag of toiletries to an intake nurse to bring to him.  She can be there, I cannot.  Text messages…oh good, he can text message, that’s a good sign.

Teetering on the edge of despair, because this is uncomfortably familiar, I reach out to my prayer warriors.  Always at the ready to bring my case before the Father and to ask for help and healing on my behalf.  Everyone should have prayer warriors at the ready. They help me remember from Whom my strength comes and His faithfulness to me.

I say many prayers without words that day and in the days since.  The uncomfortably familiar overwhelms my heart and the words don’t come.  Thankfully, the Spirit provides the words for each of my prayers.  Satan is working hard on me.  Doesn’t he know by now I am not up for grabs?  So Much I have rejected from him.  My allegiance is to the only One who brings HOPE and real, abiding LOVE!  I know so many of his tricks, from experience, and yet, he keeps trying with the uncomfortably familiar.

“And not only this, we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” Romans 5:3-5

All Bible quotes are from Zondervan’s Classic Reference Bible, New American Standard Bible–Updated Edition copyright 1999 by Zondervan
NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE, copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.