what really matters

Crisis brings out what matters. Ryan and I were in my hospital room talking on Day 2. “Did we used to fight about things that don't matter much?” I asked him. The petty things were shown for what they are. Things that I waste time on seem so small and distant and unworthy. I'm glad for that kind of revelation, painful though it may be to realize how often I have wasted time and energy and emotion on weightless affairs. In the refining fire, the dross rises to the top to be removed. Painful, but good.

But the things that DO matter are also shown for what they are. Dross is shown to be dross, and the gold - the things that are good and real - are shown to be gold. The things that matter get bigger and weightier when crisis hits. It is happening to/for me: When time will allow it, I still want to engage in the conversation spurred by Chad's blog, to hear more about my good friend and her relationship with her daughter, to learn more about why Appalachia is one of the poorest areas of the country, and to love people well. It still matters very much that my friend's marriage is tough, or that another's new job is stressful. I still find myself wondering and hoping that I can escape my own bent for materialism and live a simpler life than America sells. Am I living this part of my journey well - doing what I can to bring His light and life and hope to the darkness that can be so thick for so many in the NICU?

And this stuff I've been working through and writing about here – truth and intimacy and community – they still matter. They matter for me in the midst of this crisis, and they matter for Athan, too.

One of my most treasured friends e-mailed me to ask if I was letting anyone in. To use my words, she asked if I am choosing intimacy or isolation in the midst of this crisis. Am I risking the vulnerability required to really let some people walk with me, not just walk near me? The answer is “yes, I think that I am.” Because if it ever matters to make that choice, it matters now. I don't get to/want to set aside the necessity of deciding to risk intimacy and community and honesty, using my son as an excuse to just revert to old coping patterns.

The first few hours and even days, we were still wondering whether Athan Ryan Strebeck would get to have life at all. Now, as the question turns to what kind of life he will have, I pray earnestly that Ryan and I can show him (and Morgan and anyone else who's watching) a life full of things that really matter.