These were the words that kept coming out of my mouth as I prayed over my little Hazelnut as she laid in the hospital bed, too sick to hold anything down and too lethargic to try to eat again.
The guilt began to consume me, guilt that said that I had done this to her, because I had agreed to this test as a means of diagnosing her condition. It was a guilt that said I was hurting my own daughter, and I began to wonder if she even needed this dumb test.
With the guilt came fear and anxiety. Fear that she wasn't going to pull out of this one. It was a fear that grew, because no one was listening to us, and we felt like we were fighting with the medical team to even hear us. As fear began to wrap itself tighter around my body, my panic grew, and I could physically feel it. My body began to shake as I felt helpless in this time of waiting.
So I did the only thing I knew to do-I went to His throne. And I sat. There was nothing else I could do. The glucose drip was finally running. God had intervened. All I could do was wait.
So, knees bent and met a cold, hard hospital floor while arms rested on a blue cushion that would also be my bed. And in this moment, I was at His throne. Eyes shut and walls faded away to the peace and majesty of a Mighty God's throne. His Word before me as my fingers stroked the pages, the same fingers that stroked little Hazelnut's hair. There's something about simply touching God's Word. With each stroke, the Word would pour out in prayerful pleas to hear my cry.
It was here and only here, at His throne, that I found peace and the shaking stopped. It was here that honest struggles of trusting God came forth from my lips. I wanted to trust Him with her, the very one that laid in the hospital bed sick, the one that I hold so tightly to; but, "it's hard," I said.
And He said, "I know, my child."
"All I can do is sit here and wait. This waiting? It's hard, Lord."
"But in this waiting, you can sit at My throne, and you can pray. In this waiting, you can learn to trust more. And you can worship me in this waiting."
So with knees still bent to cold floor, the majesty of His throne before me, I prayed, I wrestled with trust, and I worshipped, hands held high to "How Great Is Our God".
So much happened in the waiting at His throne. A throne that I can approach with confidence, because of Jesus.
And this throne of the Mighty God? It's anywhere where knees are bent and hearts are turned to Him, even in the darkness of a hospital room with cold floors and blue cushioned beds.
I wonder why I get lost on my way there so many times. May I find my way back to His throne everyday, anxiety or no anxiety.
May you also find your way back to His throne everyday.