He's got the whole world in His hands

My relationship with the Lord and my faith has been tumultuous, at best. I've had to deal with a lot of death, disease and feuds... in my opinion, a lot more than most people. Needless to say, my younger self blamed God. It took many years before I realized that God didn't do it to me, as I once was certain, instead He carried me through to the other side.

My faith didn't truly return until I became pregnant with Natalie. You'd better believe the instant I found out about my baby, I said a prayer. For a long time I had been very angry with God and shut down all avenues of communication between us. I recognized how silly it seemed that suddenly I wanted something from God and therefore began talking to Him again. I knew that if I was going to truly be faithful and raise a faithful child, I would have to be open, honest, trusting and giving. So then it began... I prayed every night and everyday, and God was faithful. Natalie was born without a flaw, I survived, Chase came home safely... I was immensely grateful.


So where is this going?

Every night I pray that Natalie will have a peaceful night, and in the past week or two she's had anything but peace. I think it's been a combination of learning to crawl and stand on her own along with teething all mixed together by a massive dose of newly acquired separation anxiety. Needless to say our nights have been just swell. Every night I search the internet for solutions, harass Chase for reassurance and repeatedly call my Mom for advice. I'm so afraid of making the wrong decision and handling her nighttime issues poorly. Last night I was fed up, as she lay in her bed upstairs crying, or more like screaming, I was downstairs just as upset if not more. I said to Chase, "I just don't understand why God is doing this to me"... there's that old Leigh showing through. I guess I was incredibly worried, didn't know if I was doing the right thing and no one seemed to be able to reassure me. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was the home health nurse that the hospital provides to all newborns and their families. I had last spoken to her when Natalie was two weeks old during her house call. She was calling to check on us, and answer any questions I might have now, nearly a year later. I was stunned.

After we hung up (and I had the reassurance that I craved), I cried. I felt guilty for doubting God, it was as if He was saying "Hey! I'm still here!"